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 May 2015 Anonymous
Ian Beckett
Before was cool, after was a relief,
The “gift” delivered intact,
Is four hour operation normal?
Pain, pleasure and purpose,
Concern that the 10% rejection
Will be my kidney – only one to spare,
So far so good, after four weeks,
Thinking that my surgeon has a frown
At being called a butcher.
 May 2015 Anonymous
SELORM DEKU
This poem is not a poem
This poem may be meaningless,
Weightless yet worth reading
This poem lacks vocabulary
It holds nothing unique of poetic essence.
But carries simple words of a message
A message that seeks a place to land
Traveling within the walls of a heart.
Imprisoned, Ignored, Tortured.
Violently cracking the bricks of its cage
A message fighting for its own freedom
Seeking a break through.
A message desirous of overcoming solitary confinement
The message wants to meet others.
But others seem to have no message for this message.
This message refuses to quit fighting to escape the ******* of a home in one heart.
It hopes to locate its friend in another heart.
Futile journeys this message have walked.This night the message is discomforting.
It fights with vigour for escape.
I was up late on my bed
The same bed that puts me to sleep
The bed that invites me to rest
The bed that convinces me to forget unfinished task and rest
The bed with the magic to infect with the virus of forgetfulness for a moment
Is the same bed making me remember the message’s violence
Dreaming wild dreams and thinking wild thoughts
Opened-eye dreams
Plenty dreams
All about one figure.
When will be sleep time?
Having communion in my mind with you
I see you close though you are afar off.
In my heart I hear a voice singing your name.
The song wasn’t harmoniously great but lyrically strong.
The lyrics of the song preach truth.
It says I love you.
I fight against the thoughts with all strength
I knew I would lose the fight.
Nothing in my hands I bring.
Simply to your heart I come
Holding love in my heart.
Love looking for a place in your love
It’s homeless love
Homeless yet not hopeless
Hopeful for a place in your heart.
At your heart’s door I keep sounding the same words of old
I love you.
http://selormcharles.blogspot.com/
Dedicated to the lady I admire secretly

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
1. RICHARD RYE YAO BAKU
2. ABIGAIL FORSON ALISON
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Nancy E Tracy
I spent my life
trying to please my family

It didn't work

I spent my life trying to
Please others


I spent my life......
Be yourself
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Nancy E Tracy
If words can move you to faraway places
or open your heart as you read,
or sit in your mind
for hours at a time
It's poetry

If you rhyme or compose at every suggestion
of things that you hear or you see,
or if there's an obsession to write it all down
It's poetry

If you put down your fork on its way to your mouth
so you can pick up a pen
and jot down a note,
you are definitely a poet too.
(Courtesy of:  Mike Essig)

If you think that you're different
You are

If you wonder about
or have any doubt
of whether or not you're a poet
You are
(Whether you like it or not)
(Thanks to HP poet  Mike Essig for the added line)
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Gracie
Untitled
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Gracie
don’t ever let anyone tell you
your hands aren’t the stars
your mouth isn’t the sun
your lips aren’t supernovas

don’t ever let anyone tell you
your mind isn’t cataclysmic
your thoughts can’t stop time
your actions can’t create earthquakes

because when your feet pound the pavement
when your breath comes in gasps
when you can’t stop blinking
seeing, hearing,
feeling

you are a cumulonimbus existence
of thunder and lightning

he is not your own little universe,
bottled up

you
are
the universe
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Haydn Swan
Gone
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Haydn Swan
Absent from all but the faintest of feelings
again I stare out of a window
its frame imprisons my soul
a fathomless stare into an obscure distance
as if I might somehow occupy that space
old photographs scattered on a table
yet I can no longer see your face
has it really been this long ?
minutes, days, weeks, months and now a year ?
the spirits took your warm embrace
so cold under the ground
know this my sweet sweet thing
the old roots now hold your hands
but you are forever embraced by my spirit
eternally dancing to our sad refrain
under the moonlight in the pouring rain.
( Sonnet )*

I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.

In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.

Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.

My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
In Celtic myth, if a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife.  Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean.  Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.

Selkies (also spelled silkies, selchies; Irish/Scottish Gaelic: selchidh, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Scottish, Irish, and Faroese folklore.  Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend is apparently most common in Orkney and Shetland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
 Apr 2015 Anonymous
Terry Collett
I wait until
Enid's old man
has left the flats

feeling a bit brave
I walk up stairs
to their flat
and knock at the door

her mother answers
and she has a black eye
and says
what you want?

I need to see Enid

what for?

it's Saturday
I want to go with her
to the flicks

flicks?
she says frowning

yes cinema
see the morning matinee

she looks past me
as if she's seen
an angel behind me

is her father around still?
she asks me

no I saw him go
just now

make sure he's not
doubling back
he does sometimes
just to be a cuss
she says

so I look over
the balcony
look into the Square

well?
she murmurs

no he's gone
he looked in a hurry
when I saw him
I say

Enid!
her mother says
in a harsh call

she turns
and gazes at me
her eyes dull
the black eye closing

what's he do  
for a side show
I say

what?
she says

your old man
what's he do
for a side show
apart from hitting
you and Enid?

ENID
she bellows

I look back at her
as cool as
a young boy can
brushing my
brown quiff of hair
and glazing over
my hazel eyes

Enid creeps out
and stares out
from beneath
her mother's arm

what is it?
Enid asks
looking at me
then up at her mother

the boy wants
to take you
to the cinema
her mother says

I can pay
I say

Enid says
can I go?

her mother sighs
don't tell your father
you've been
you know
what he's like
she says

do I have to lie
if he asks me
where I've been today?

her mother bites
her lip
slightly swollen

sure you do
I say
lie your head off
tell the schmuck anything
but the truth
I tell her
the truth
he isn't worthy of it

her mother
opens her mouth
to speak but it
remains as
a mouthed O

her mother looks
past me again
you sure he isn't
coming back?
she asks

I look over
the balcony again
no he's not
coming back
I say

ok ok
she says
and she says Enid
can go

so I wait
a few minutes outside
while Enid gets ready
and her mother
stares at me
then the sky
as she brushes her lip
and rubs her eye
closing up
like a dark plum

then Enid comes out
dressed in a blue dress  
and her hair brushed
and we walk off
down the stairs
of the flats

she's silent
but excited
and I look down
the stairs ahead
hoping her old man
isn't coming back
as he does sometimes
to catch them out
and commit more crimes.
A BOY AND GIRL AND A CINEMA DATE IN 1957 IN LONDON.
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