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if raindrops never fell from the sky
there would be no sturdy evergreens, and
cherry blossom petals would never fall in the streets
like confetti, celebrating the welcoming of spring.

if hearts never ached with dull emptiness
or dried up with loneliness and longing
we would never appreciate the feeling
of heart seams that are bursting with love.

when the pain grabs hold and rips you open
and tears break the dam of your closed eyelids
do not worry because this is how strength is made
and every hurt builds a new callous on your now tough skin.

when the cracks in your foundation become craters,
when the earth breaks away at your feet,
when the world beneath you crumbles away
this is when you grow wings.
Hint of green in amber rushing
Cold as ice in beauteous way,
Black beech towers overhead
Alpine zephyrs catch to sway.
Hint of green in boulder rapid
Morning sunshine gleans the tint
Wading forth to dangerous water
Pumping pulse in eyes that glint.

Hauling up and out with effort
Straining arms, staggered gait
Wading forth to sandy beach
With hidden prize that cannot wait.
Boulder in her amber shroud
Masking flash of emerald sheen
Pounamu in the Maori tongue
Glorious jade in turquoise green.

Treasure of high hidden mountains
Locked within exquisite glade
Birdcalls ring through wooded canyons
Reeling realisation made.
Photographs the proof of moment
Tremulous while masking pain
I caste far out this gem of Jacob
Splashing, gone, to torrent’s gain.

Tremulous I stand in wonder
Wondrous of this perfect place
I, who touched the smile of God
Now wear a happy, laughing face.*
M.
In the glorious wild river glades above Jackson Bay in the Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.
i hate the smell of the alcohol
because it inflames my throat
as it passes through my lungs
and run out of breath

i hate the smell of your scent
because it aches my head
as memories come back
and lose control

i hate the smell of the cigarette
you used to drag off
when you were nervous
distressed and upset

i am that lungs
you promised to keep
but now why are you
impulsively killing me?
 May 2016 Skipping Stones
Abimael
Sometimes giving up is not an option
Sometimes the "giving up" is a luxury
Sometimes, we should give it all
And remember, that our heart is our source of life
Listen well, and follow what the beats
The best of our heart mandate.
I know my place...
Is between the rocks
And the long delay.
Is between your heart
And your smiley eyes.
I know we missed the path,
I lost the signs...
I know my place is
Between a silence and a rest
Your ghost will spit on my face
The air will save me from faint.
 May 2016 Skipping Stones
Matt
A glimpse behind the mask,
a catching of the tongue.
The faces waiting in the shadows,
I know,
I've seen them before.

The breaking of a new day,
the makeshift of the moment.
A not-so-subtle desire,
an urge,
to discover the self.

A memory now,
disconnect me from my emotion.
How’d I fail to see through this disguise?
The layers of compassion
hidden
within those focus-wearied eyes.

A whisper,
an acknowledgement.
A tattering of delusions,
the picking up of ruins.
How much was it worth to learn what could have been known
Any other way?

The seconds turned into minutes,
the minutes became miles,
My breath tired,
it tried to keep up.

Calmness.
Now.
The centre of peace.
The questions and their answers
subsided,
a beckoning of quietness and solitude.
 May 2016 Skipping Stones
LET
dipped in the nook of your bed
it's not supposed to be there,
but you've settled in it before
alone,
we take turns mumbling heartfelt
sighs and soft secrets

our heads on your pillows
as if they were fragile and full and
weightless
another 20 minutes sharing this
same space
you don't get up until I do
it's all I can do to not to
Falling dreams from my basket.
Couldn't remember the colors,
Or the smells of the flowers.
But a smile on the mirror
Your aura have drew on my circle.
Are our dreams a mixture
Of fantasy and destiny?
A mixture of reality and causality...
Dreams will begin,
When our baskets are full of red.
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