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Ashley Chapman Jun 2018
We fall,
and hard,
and in the shadows,
***** ourselves on snags,
that tear our clothes;
grazed and cut,
we stagger on -
Impressions, ideas, fancies!
Of these have we been disabused.

But is this spring,
come again?

in the bright sunlight,
to see you,
felt green hat in among the photo clouds,
apple suedes on the gallery's dank floor.

and I,
merrily circling with you the light cloud images,
my nostrils full of pollen spikes.
The pictures:
wisps of trailing dreams churning in ‘scapes of infinite blue;
dark clouds,
in amongst them,

Photographs in two time places
at once, all:
the other and t'other.

So excitement swells,
and everything besides us quells,
because the knowing of itself,
and dares beyond the frames;
to skirt knowingly the unsaid;
to want beyond the wounded past,
to pull things,
once again,
inside out.

In whimsy’s currents flow these thoughts,
these feelings,
these drives;
swirling in eddies,
so that as you sit,
on a summer’s day,
it moves,
a mirror to everything above.

The wavelets on the surface,
hammered into shape,
burn, bite and dazzle;
the sun’s flames leaping and dancing on ripples.

In the basement,
on the concrete,
your Y proneness shifts,
releasing knees on black-clad thighs;
two pendulums swinging,
yawing metronomes in the cool,
coolness of my desultory thoughts.

Oh, what am I saying?
Feelings like reveries walk along these silver lips straying languorously.
These myths are too soon made,
carried one to the next,
until contained no longer,
become new truths.
Visited an East End London picture gallery with a friend. Later, she texted me and said she had been called a *****, and I said, we're all that, too. Then I wanted to defend her by describing the intoxicting effect of her connection with me: her beauty.
Smoke Scribe Sep 2017
Dear Mr. Carl Sandburg,

Once, you wrote:

"The lucid and endless wrinkles"
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach."

Having observed often. the exact phenomenon you reference
in the words above, the undulating action upon a sand white beach, patient waiting the greetings of the all-day wavelets, which reminded you which reminded me of the lucid and endless wrinkles sea worn upon our faces, it is my happy duty incumbent to inform your spirit, that we have yet in this the 21st century, to invent, a machine that does it better than you man, hu-man, connecting our aged faces to the timeless stroking of the Earth by the water that sustains life.

Yours truly,

Mr. Smoke Scribe
There, in the light of a summer, long gone, lie shadows of laughter, remnants of love.
There in the dust rings, echos of recall, sunspots flaunt blue yonder above .
Recalling eyes that wept for the fun of it, cried with the tragedy,. Teardrops of crave
Surges of memory washing in wavelets cleansing, scarring,  riding the wave.

Oh for that feeling of splendid simplicity running in sand at the surge of the tide
No place to be, no timetable proffered, freedom on little boys giant slippery slide.
Ice creams, apricots, luscious and juicy frolic with maiden’s free blonde, tousled hair,
Frothy short petticoats bounce in the sunshine, youth without traces of worry or care.

Breathless in nights of gathereing twilight, breathless falls this magical  air,
Wondrous in such lilting beauty, soft hanging tones of Autumn fair.
There in the light of summer gone, shadows of laughter, remnants of love,
Memories flood to overflowing, indigo glints the starlight above.

The Satins of Autumn Approacheth…
February 21 2019
Jude kyrie Apr 3
A Sunset On The Lake

Down beyond the woodlands
The majestic golden sun
On silent shining waters
its glowing reflection hung

Amber clouds spread like curtains
as they passed the fading sky
I could almost hear them closing
as the daylight bid goodbye

The gentle weeping breezes
in the pine trees by the shore
Sang a song of nature’s anthem
to  remember for evermore.

A holy reverent silence
That no creature dared to break
In each soul brushed a painting
Of that sunset on the lake.

In beauty so transcending
As the water lapped my feet
Spoke beauty in a language
That had no need to speak

Then under the cloak of evening
Played a softened lullaby
Sleepily splashing on the wavelets
under a dreamy darkened sky.

If I should live forever
This vision will awake.
Visions will leave me never.
Of that sunset on the lake
Written for the beautiful
Country of Canada.
My adopted mother.
AlwaysYour son
Jude kyrie Oct 2018
at the edge of the ocean,
evening breezes.
cool the  memory of your love
I still see it
burning in its early passions.

The night breeze
softly sings love song's
As the wavelets
break over my bare feet
In the distance in the night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute.

I can feel their fingers on my heart
The salty air purifying my senses
breaking into old lost memories
of lovers past..

In the distance in the night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute.
Note by note touching my soul
I feel my passions
Smoldering red and on fire.

I need the sultry air
to drown my needs.
to bring solace to my heart
Reflections of moon and starlight
dance upon on the waves.
In the distance
Someone is playing bolero on a flute.
And tears are forming in my eyes.

Now uneasy at this intrusion
but spellbound
It is so beautiful deep and passionate.
In the distance on this summer night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute
And my soul is aching
Music and passionate

— The End —