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Monika Layke Jun 7
The moon eyewitness
Crashing in the currents
Sojourn upwelling
Breathtaking
CK Baker Nov 2017
mirrored fly-glass
and polished chrome
are tinted
in the blood orange dawn
running dogs of lummi
hush quiet
on this celestial
summer morn

clubman bars
and tan saddles
strapped to
the lowered hind
skull caps
and fitted chaps
for the open flow
and rich peripheral scenes

concessions at the peace arch
(from the blue-coat fuzz)
black *****
and maples
cake the bow hill
and chuckanut

choppers launch
at edison
(with their metal fleck
and tuft)
a half moon rises
on the concho
and interstellar cross

cinnamon gulls
and ravens
scour the netted docks
warlock driftwood
and row homes
spot the winding
coastal roads

rumbling sounds
at the packer slew ~
the redolence
of briny bay
alive
on the overlook
at fairhaven
Spent a couple days in late September on a motorcycle trip with my brother...weaving through the small towns and villages of the Pacific Northwest.  Magnificent!
ryn  Jan 2015
Trust
ryn Jan 2015
.
     ...is a fragile little thing,
     that most tend to overlook.
     Small word with a **** big meaning.
     Some may uphold it; some may
     conveniently have it mistook...

Trust...
     ...is in the grasp of the unknown
     stranger,
     that helps you up when you've fallen
     down.

Trust...
     ...is the pact between you and the cab
     driver,
     as he takes you to where you want to
     be, across town.

Trust...
     ...the bough on which your swing does
     sit.
     Pray that it doesn't break as you enjoy
     its joyous ride.

Trust...
     ...your cook, hoping in your food he
     doesn't spit...
     Especially when you've provided
     feedback that scuffed his pride.

Trust...
     ...lays exposed when the keys to your
     house you surrender,
     to your neighbour who'd keep an eye
     while you're away on a retreat.

Trust...
     ...exists latent in the open palm of your
     caregiver...
     As a child you'd take his hand so he'd
     ferry you safely across the street.

Trust...
     ...is the unspoken oath that I had thought
     we both held sacred...
     When I spilled the contents, my heart
     couldn't bear much longer.

Trust...
     ...meant nothing when you took it all for
     granted,
     when you weakened and succumbed...
     ...and then shared with another...
Vicki Kralapp Oct 2018
I step into the crispness of the Door, just past the peak of color,
and the smell of smoked wood fills the air.
Trees draped in yellow ochres and burnt siennas
overlook the paths and sidewalks of dappled leaves.

Lake Michigan, angry teal with late fall wind,
rolls in against massive rocks skirting its shores.
Whitecaps, balancing on the tip of each wave,
surf their way into shore and crash against breakwaters.

Winds whistling through the silver of leftover leaves
flit each like whirlybirds as they reflect the midday sun.
Feathered cattails, backlit against the morning sun,
line the roadsides while they wave goodbye in the wind.

I breathe in the color as it fades against the afternoon sky,
while collecting the stunning hues in photos and tasty delicacies along the way.
I bid farewell to the fish boils, cherries, apples,
and views of magnificent bays as I make my way back home.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
harlee kae  Dec 2014
Untitled
harlee kae Dec 2014
some days i miss you like an ant bite.
small.
controllable.
i can even overlook it with the right amount of will power.
others, i miss you as if my gallbladder was removed.
big.
painful.
i can continue to live, but i know that something is missing.
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