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Nylee Aug 2020
All that was August
Breezed through just like
                  Wind gust.
Inspired by Taylor Swift song 'August'.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2021
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3983306/who-by-fire-after-leonard-cohen/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1844090/for-leonard-a-man-cleaning-up-after-himself/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3319252/never-lament-casually-leonard-cohen/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2714710/for-leonard-cohen-two-and-a-half-years-on-11716/

Aug 29 2020

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2187204/all-ive-learned-from-love-for-leonard/

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833538/for-leonard-cohen-the-musicians-minyan/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3932910/when-leonard-cohen-met-charlie-daniels-the-devil-went-down-to-geo­rgia/

!!the links repeat below, so no cut and paste required!!
Druzzayne Rika Aug 2020
The lives we are leading right now
being at the home,
being at the heart,
cherishing little things
when world is falling apart
we are making history,
we need to be there for everybody
uplift everyone
common, poor, needy and hungry
from calamity after calamity
save the economy, the country
contribute to the best efforts
Be the survivor of twenty-twenty.
Anais Vionet Aug 2020
I’m excited - the
republican convention!
I love magic shows.

They will reveal, with
sorcerous skills a new Trump
- bighearted, and selfless.

The man we all know,
the emotionally crippled
horror, will wear disguise.

Who will be deceived?
The children in cages will cheer,
the virus dead will smile.

Our Nazis will march,
ghosts of veterans will wail,  
What a fine party.
The devil will dance in a magic show for the ages
Neither Ghost
nor Father
nor a Sun
But still a 3-in-1,
with a flash of lightning
laying
scarred between
them eyes
All together
yet always alone
Standing behind a dais
on Zoom
invoking with the one good 20/20 between them,
broadcasting words into being,
manifesting Hitlerian spells
to bewitch and
to squander
the True Tales
of a Plummeting Icarus Struck Down
wingless
(but not forgotten)
by some transcendental debasement.
Admire as 'They yet She' reel a bit,
employing a well-worn
tactical maneuver,
now, getting steady,
holding on ever tighter
to the wood.
These my w.c.fieldsian barkers
who share a predestined
and enflambed
yet glorious
lavender-tinged
third eye,
with little specks of gold,
surrounding...
Inspired,
Transported,
'They yet She' look to be pinning it down
This very specific Message
from the Heavens,
straight.
'They yet She' are converging
and this should be
your takeaway
So kind of pay attention,
Please.
"'The Lord sayeth unto me
that all Men are Fools,
given to wanton callowness'
To which i reply:
'If only they would look
into the cavity,
and reach deeply and far-flung
to grasp, or rather,
to treasure
just one of a myriad of
interchangeable
divine possibilities
For within the obscurity
rests
The Glory
of All
or Nothing
and back again
for Eternity;
the Eight laying down
to rest,
tired.
And so ends The Lesson.'
To which the Lord replied
'Well done U!'
and better still,
'They yet She' intoned,
satisfied
with a sly, flyaway wink
'I know!'"
In 2009, The american disaster film "2012" was released.
Preparing for "The End of The World" was easy.

A piece of cardboard at a Red Light.


"2012 The End Is Nigh, What's a dollar?"


We might as well have smiled, given a friendly wave,
honked our horns like we were passing the Freeport Flag Ladies.


In 2012, I was in high school with my first job.

I didn't care that In the twinkling of an eye,

we were gonna hear God's last trumpet.

On Rapture-Eve, I set out "Milk N' Cookies" for the "Left-behind"

I left next mornings outfit on the side of the road as if Angels abducted me ****-*** naked mid-stride

Turns out, the red light never turned green.

The "left-behind" kept breeding

and Hell on earth just kept recruiting

Now it's 2020,

The Freeport Flag Ladies are in Quarantine,

the signs have needles in our eyelids like mechanical spiders,

You can't even turn the news off now,

I pick it up at CVS Like a Controlled substance prescription.

They make you call in once a month to get it refilled.

Some how my amazing wife Amy and I

Not only survived the rapture,
we brought a brand new life into it.

For 10 days we were locked in a hospital

We never looked at the news.

The world melted away as we danced together

Waiting to meet our little miracle.

After Amy was whisked away for intensive surgery
and survived the most unspeakably amazing thing in the world
a nurse eventually grabbed me and asked if I wanted to meet my daughter,
I was guided to a baby table

with knobs, meters, heat lamps,

and on a tiny cushion

in a tiny plastic crib,

My daughter.


Sophia Naomi Mae Coulombe.


wide eyed

staring into my pupils

wiggling

perfect

Now we are home.

No nurses, no IV.

Somehow it feels like the end of the world and all it's chaos
was the best thing that has ever happened to us.

Everything happened exactly when it needed too.


We couldn't have had better timing

if God planned it.
I would love any editing advice! I know this poem is raw and precious, but please feel open to being savage with the red pen!
Jenie Aug 2020
Windstorm blowing through
suspending the days
Irish summer ending I shiver
at the darkness spreading
the white wisp morphing into black cloak

The fig tree stands branches wild
new sprouts shaking
second season raspberries
crushed on the wall
the tomato vine falls heavily to the ground

Sprigs jerking I sway
trunk holding fast until it fractures
I collapse and the fruits splatter
sap leaking I wipe my cheeks
flustered by my syrupy hands I stare

a sound a shout I straighten
the burgeons call
Storm Ellen, pandemic and bad news. The burgeons are my children.
J Aug 2020
white spider
black cotton
we’re in your home now

grey squirrel
heather polyester
we’re under your home now

blue bird
blue jeans
we’re just visiting
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