There are faces that go on the pretty, high-end magazines,
In demand, highly sought
Read once
Then kept away
Then there are faces that go on the canvasses of painters who were once unknown
Coveted, evoking
Imprinted on the mind
Hanged in the Louvre
(for all the world to see)
Now worth a million

why do some
see only black
while others,
only white?

ignorance
is what I guess
as they know not
of their light

but if they'd look
down deep within
they'd find
their needed sight

in an endless well of self
- too see
reflections of the truth
wisdoms inner peace is free
from years an distant youth,
uncovering your principles
the key

from a loving inner sleuth,

find the poet
-inner bard
find your "self"-
a lovely muse
giving you the lessons rare
that only you alone must use
all you'll ever need to know
in endless inside clues
to so carefully assess the past
to find the road for you should choose
in the pain is always victory
as no one will ever really lose

the poignant powerful messages
reflected in the blues

an the happy memories also
those are my favorite hues
the ones that bring me home again
just like Judy Garland's shoes

I click them now
now just three times
an close my eyes to see
a reflection of my home inside
in every single memory.

Ma Cherie © 2017

What was She like
How did She look
Was it a wonder
for all of your dreams
to come true?

Yes.

Her hair was golden
Her face as an Angel
Her heaven sent smile

The touch of Her love
was the moment
She saved me
in time

Will you once again see Her
To again touch Her hand
To look in Her eyes

Do you think
She still is the same?

No.

Time is not kind
to Angels who fall
The ageless
beautiful loyalty
She once wore
is gone

And spent cheaply
For Her own
personal war

So then what can I say
and what's to be said
My once precious Darling
is now but not forever...
no more

For in Heaven
again unto me...

Will She then again
be restored

Someday

Of that I am
certainly sure.

-R.

9.02.17
-LA


-4MAR

Your eyes meet mine -
You stretch and yawn.
The first thing
That I see at dawn
Is you curled up near me.

Your soft voice and melodious purr
Are sweet as music to my ear.
Your call at night is masterly
It summons me
To come and see
What you would like to share with me.

Your touch is thrilling.
It could be
That you would like to play with me
Or that you feel a nudge is due
That love's the same as food to you.

Your pointed ears and hairy tail
Might be less cute on a human male
But while a man might smile at me
It's  inter-species territory
Where you and I so close can be.

CB

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

=============
a little music
a little song
all the time
all around
access dress till the time
adjective becomes a noun

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

I write poetry
*******!
What's happened to me?

Tech stuff bored me
Now I text!
What's next?

The Woman who hated sport
Was me
Where is she?

The rational, sensible Me is gone -
Help!
What's going on?

I was goal directed
And rarely distracted -

Now I'm
Happy to drop
Whatever I do
To be close to you.