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 Jun 2020 Jayne E
-elixir-
Your presence,
gets me high on you,
as you drive out me blues.
The more I try to
abstain, I can't.
The very sight of you,
makes me want you more,.
The rush in my body
matches none when
you're there.
My morning tonic,
the breeze during rain,
the sunset enhancer
and finally the one
who watches me fall asleep.
You've become a constant
in my life, without which
I'd die.
And that's for you,
Chai!
Chai be like, I'll be with you from dusk to dawn. That's it I'm addicted!
 Jun 2020 Jayne E
Carlo C Gomez
I. The Boy With The Cuckoo Clock Heart

Born with a frozen heart,
abandoned in
Edinburgh.

One kind physician
laid her hands upon him,
in a bit of medicinal salvation,
by placing a cuckoo clock
inside his chest.

Now an orphan,
among peculiar friends:
tear-filled flasks,
eggs containing memories,
and a man with a musical spine.

There's but one catch
for this boy:
his heart is fragile,
he must never, ever
fall in love.

Existence is undoubted.
But without this one emotion,
can he really live?

Love is a bitter token.


II. The Girl With Glass Feet

"It was a humid night,
later to become a hated night."

Upon an island sound,
feet first, she is slowing turning
into glass.

By sheer happenstance,
she meets a shy boy
who lives there
with an extreme fear
of being touched.

As she slowly disappears,
she untethers herself
from self-pity,
by teaching the boy the value
of interaction.

Inchmeal, he begins to reach out
and feels everything
she has lost to the night.

Love is a bitter token.


III. The Snow Child

"November was here."

A married couple,
in Alaskan remote,
suffering from one great sadness:
no child of their own
and unable to talk of it.

He's buried by
the weight of the outer ice,
she's crumbling
from inner despair.

And so on a rare
friendly day trek,
they built a child out of snow,
outfitted with mittens and scarf.

A day later it is gone,
remembered only in absentia,
yet there appears
a beautifully arrayed
creature of winter,
a little, lissome girl in the woods,
hunting with the red fox.

In wishing to understand
these encounters,
the couple come to love the child
as their very own daughter.

Yet will she ever accept them
as they do her?

Or see them
merely as snowdrops?

Figurines frosted over by
the harsh landscape
they each wander?

Love is a bitter token.
BLT's continued challenge - to write a poem using the Merriam-Webster word of the day, lissome. It's in there somewhere.
 Jun 2020 Jayne E
Carlo C Gomez
There once was a lady,
(and there actually still is),
who clandestinely preferred
the growth about her garden gate.

The talk in the village square
these days was all about
pruning the living daylights
out of it, until it was a sad
but smooth barren surface.

Apparently visitors had weighed in
and made this some kind of rule.

Nonetheless, she liked how
the twisting leaves and ivy
created a picturesque latticework,
a natural tapestry,
evoking mystery and anticipation
for what lay beneath.

Oh, she trimmed her foliage
here and there,
keeping the overgrowth
from running wild,
but all things considered
she was not about to change.

Her garden was beautiful
just the way it was.
 Jun 2020 Jayne E
Carlo C Gomez
Death
has a way of stirring the ***

It brings out
the best in some

And the worst
in others
 Jun 2020 Jayne E
Rupert Pip
gore
 Jun 2020 Jayne E
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
 May 2020 Jayne E
Acme
Nativity
 May 2020 Jayne E
Acme
I'm a stooge on a stage
in a life ****** on me
not of my choosing. I'm
Shakespeare's Romeo to
a lost *****'s Juliet.
We wind our way forward
on a wind most foul
to Bethlehem's manger.
I curse the fools on the
stage tasked with nailing
my son onto his cross to
eat madness we embrace.
For a son taken before his time.
 May 2020 Jayne E
Acme
beating heart
 May 2020 Jayne E
Acme
I **** and call it love.
    I love and call it *******.
    What can my ***** tell me
    of feeling love in my heart?
    I step over the dead still
    looking for a beating heart.
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