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For a Child of 1918

My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."

We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.

Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"

my grandfather said. So *****
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?

But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when ***** whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,

"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."

When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.

When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.
A smile forever
On this life too soon severed,
Her face blushed
with pockets of
glow.
To the darkness he fled,
Hands stained with red,
and stopped in his tracks by a
crow.

“Begone,” said the crow,
And he started to show
a wide wingspan
directing toward
North.
“A life has been spared
yet you still dare
to test the fates as your
time travels short.”

“Move from my way,” said the lover,
“I’m no stranger to once again smother.”
The crow with
his beak
pecked away at
his feet
And won a prize of a toe from the lover.

“Arise,” said the crow
to his new peeked foe,
“we have not even start-
ed yet.”
Though the journey was long
the crow sang a sweet song
just before a swift
stab at
the lover’s neck.
 Feb 2013 Siva Wright
August
I used to wear my heart upon my sleeve
But then it frayed,
And now I'm left with a pile of string
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
 Jan 2013 Siva Wright
Duck
If you were the sky
Then I'd be the sea
And when you shined bright
It would reflect in me.
When you're at rest
Then I am steady.
If you wanna get rough
I'm always ready.
Past closing at the bars
If you show me the stars
I'll open right up
And cast them out far.
And on the darkest night
If you won't shine a light.
Then I'm silent alongside you
Until you feel right.
We'll meet at the horizon
Where lovers will stare
And wonder with passion
Why they can't meet there.
And you'll share me a kiss
As bright as two suns.
When they meet in the middle
I'll know the days done.
And I can tell that's your way of saying to me.
Goodnight my love.
If you were the sky and I were the sea.
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I am tired
of being tired
because I do not sleep
instead I lay
or is it lie
counting these ******* sheep
inside my head
and feeling dead
because in my head I keep
every thought
I’m sure I bought
within me, dark and deep

I’m ******* sick
of being sick
because I am too weak
to just admit
I’m tired of it
this constant losing streak
of all these years
and all these fears
have left me feeling bleak

I haven’t lived
I have not lived
a single ******* day
I hate my brain
I want this pain
to ******* go away

These words can’t show
what I can’t show
but I’m already dead
© 2012 Jene'e Patitucci
Clear off the bed
and come lie next to me
or lie with me
or crawl under these sheets
and die with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clear out your mind
and sink down low with me
or get high with me
or hold my hand
and lose some time with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean up your act
and fall apart with me
or fall, apart from me
or fall, a part of me
and take some time to cry with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean out your car
and run away with me
or run to me
or put it in reverse
and go back to the start with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Cleanse your spirit
and embrace this pain with me
or brace for pain with me
or take a moment to put me back together
and just be with me, with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could still get used to this
© 2012 Jene'e Patitucci

— The End —