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  Dec 2016 Sjr1000
Lora Lee
Beneath the
burning snowflakes
of my consciousness
I stand
ensconced in ice
a statue in
your garden
all the verdant,
living treasures
I have given
around you,
burst from
my womb
in volcanic fibers
molten lava
of puce
of ochre-toned
vibrancy
that pierces
through the strata
of our own
personal history
archeological insights
of who we have been
love in frequencies
that once
met their destination
echoes of fire
falling in viscous
bands of liquid
upon my outspread fingers,
uncaught
You
once loved me in parts
  My snowflowers
will stay with us
but I will not
the tenth
of me that you see
is already disappearing
worn down
from your stance
of constant dark
not the dark of richly
pungent mineral layers
of blackest black
but lackluster
in taste and texture
no match
for my warrioress heart
For deep inside
this clear glass casing
are rivulets
flash floods
about to break
the gelid frost surface
bursting through
in cracks
like end-of-winter
river rushes
like seismic explosions
sulphur-rocked
My wild totem
is emerging
antlers glowing from
my crown
They are clashing
rustling up trees
whipping winds of magic
that tumult
right past the
icicles of your posture
And the last gift
I will ever
give to you
are the shards
that have already
melted from my
own estric heat
and, even then,
you will be too numb
to understand

and now, comes
       in resonated whisper
*my soul is out the door
  Dec 2016 Sjr1000
Kelly Rose
Time drifts
Moments just pass by
How I long
To grasp time
Bringing it to a standstill
As I struggle
With dreams
At a crossroad
Autumn’s chill
Holds me back
As dreams are
A young one’s game
Opportunities have
Gone away
Dare I pursue
The unexpected paths
That have opened before me
Even if time is
Elusive
Extinguishing
Faster than I’d like
Afraid of making
The wrong choice
Feeling life
Slip through my fingers
As I linger
Feeling
A bit dazed and confused
As the future
Becomes the present
Time drifts
As I stand still
Lost

Kelly Rose
© December 23, 2016
Sjr1000 Dec 2016
He carries a black widow spider
in his pocket
it keeps him alert,
he's tattooed from here to there
he always liked the pain,  
an endorphin ******.
He wears a Mohawk too
His belt is a live rattlesnake
he doesn't like to be bothered

He's a dangerous man in a dangerous world

He met Ray
a princess from Bakersfield
She had a smile that
opened the heart
He looked at her
He looked at his life
He had looked at one death too many

He paused
Much to his surprise
He chose life
His heart it creaked on open

She saw something in him
I'm going to have to ask her
what it was.
She turned on her healing light
offered acceptance,
When violence calls
She taps his shoulder
and no one  knows why
but he feels the warmth of the sun
rotating in his chest
he walks away,
it's okay.

Will they make it into the everlasting sunset?
Your guess is as good as mine
But for now
their love is what
legends are made of.
  Dec 2016 Sjr1000
Marshal Gebbie
Sarah and Solomon married at Foxglove in verdant Taranaki…a magical time for everybody at that beautiful, beautiful occasion.

Dear old Grandpa Verne Bell passed from this mortal coil and went on to the next with his typical strong eyed fortitude and open curiosity.

Major earthquake shatters the top of the South island and is felt with trepidation from one end of the country to the other.

Trump hauls votes from the impossible and manufactures an improbable US Presidency…. Much to the embarrassment, alarm and discomfort of the majority of the thinking American population.

Oceans continue to rise and atmospheric temperatures climb…..and nobody really cares enough to try to do anything much about it.

Russia and China flex their military muscle and snub their sabre rattling noses at the West.

Interest rates and the price of gas started to escalate upward again.

Friends and relatives have been rocked by ill health, hardship and misfortune.

Key calls “Enough” and passes the Prime Ministerial gauntlet to a (thankfully), very capable Bill English.

Janet and Marshal both reach out and find new jobs, fresh horizons & new avenues to explore.

Syria slides into chaos and anarchy with absolutely no regard for it’s ordinary, civilian population languishing in the dreadful ruins of East Aleppo.

The Hectors dolphin numbers dwindle to 87 living animals, surviving  globally.



But….We, friends, live in a peaceful oasis…forgotten at the very end of the earth.

We live in a land of plenty and opportunity, a land of rare green beauty where individuality is prized and freedom valued.



May we pause for a moment this Christmas…and appreciate just how ****** fortunate we all actually are?



MERRY CHRISTMAS FRIENDS

M.
Hamilton, New Zealand
20 December 2016
  Dec 2016 Sjr1000
Denel Kessler
in the dark
compass spinning
wanton wind
howling, wailing
brittle arms
in concert waving
emerald waters
whipped and raging

sky crushed velvet
sequins sewn tight
to the shattered
span of night
a million times
each time as new
with stardust eyes
with gratitude
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