At first she loved me with wondrous pride,
Night after night, a happy constant by her side.
Hand-written stories narrated solely to me,
For only I appreciated her special 'vocabulary'.

In a couple of years, she gouged out my right eye.
As she pulled out my left arm, I masked a sigh.
A laborious poker face; by her, I was smitten.
And unlike the others, at least I wasn't forgotten.

At the age of three, she made loneliness my mistress.
Stowed me away; locked me alone with my distress.
The darkness of the room surpassed by my own.
Yet my unrequited adoration set firmly in stone.

Twenty five years later, she found her old teddy bear.
'He was always my favourite. Treat him with care.'
'But mommy, he has no eyes or hands...' she said, sans guile.
In the blink of an eye, she spied a sad, crippled smile.

the jungle book didn't have two seats that were together
and that simply would not do
because my new bear necessity
is being with you

The bear in the corner of the room, the one gathering
dust that for no reason will anyone move or clean.
It is and isn't in the view of all who enter. but its
observation of what we are doing is lingering with but
one black eye of  onyx eye just staring at the surroundings.

In the morning where dust of our passing, flesh is no longer
viable is expelled from our form. Now disturbed and tiny
imprints are visible only just to the uneducated eye.
I swear on the truth that with each passing night its smile
grows wider with the many imprints we remove.

I heard a scream as I awoke from a lucid dream,
my families neighbour of many years smashing
her apartment up unseen. The police came and as
she was taken away, a blood soaked flannel covered
where an eye was and should have been seen.

I ran into my bedroom, as little beads of red i did see.
But as I followed them like breadcrumbs I saw a sight that
till even know haunts me. The bear in the corner with its
trail of crimson lingering towards it.
I saw with my eyes, two eyes now where a single was,
one black and one turning onyx from green.

The origin of love is beauty of blonde
Which knits lover and beloved in bond
Love takes lover to infinity or beyond
Lover wants to keep beauty as pawned

My love your curves are taking my life
They are keeping me the on edge of knife
My pain and pleasure dangles with rife
My love for your sake I can face the strife

You are moon and I am lunatic pheasant
In your love I always remain on the front
In my stance of love I am straightly blunt
For sake of your beauty I will bear brunt

I know my lunacy will affect the intimacy
But my only mission is to make you happy
Your cheeks are creamy your lips are juicy
Your beautiful curves make you more ****

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

I hear you whispering to me
            it's alright my child
     I know you want this to be over
                 I am right here
             I will always be right here
            don't give up you hear me?
   As long as you can still grasp a breath
                          you fight
      You breathe...so keep breathing.

          Your body...your soul
            may be fighting you
         It is older and has taken
     on many troubles and trauma
       but your spirit needs to stay
you have important work still to do here

        As they press on your throat
    Trying to check the last bit of air
      the Red tail Hawks Circle in the sky
                 we are here
               Do not be afraid

      You were born with white blood
        The ones who have dark blood
             are angry that it is
      still running through their veins
                are afraid of you
             Your light is so bright
           they fear getting burned

       Time may not be on your side
But you will know when the time is right
       you are the silvertip grizzly bear
   who smells from many miles away
who will rip flesh with your mighty    
            claws in seeming anger

                           His smell
seven times stronger than the Bloodhound
           your nose is a time traveler
      while they see someone's name
                            carved in
         a heart in the tree they will know
          this person loves someone else
            
       you know who made the carving
      what was on the soles of their feet
        what direction they walked in
   And to stay away if they are dangerous

        little Portia...jumping spider
        you can see in four dimensions
      Opening Our Eyes to history
as ancient Greek statues were painted
                        not white
         your evolutionary camouflage
     is useless against the death machine
          the black Emperor Scorpion
which to you glows in a bright blue green
      
you are also like the monarch butterfly
      
          waking from sleep cocooned
            living only a few months
      migration that spans Generations
born knowing exactly how to get to their  
           greatest grandfathers home
              who left six months ago
                not told by your Mother

You are the beautiful white bleeding heart
     that I planted outside your door
    you didn't know where it came from
  It will provide you ease from your pain    
           and calm  your nerves
      you must extract this from the root

         It all feels very important
             To speak the truth
             to get it all down
     It feels like it might be too late
                but it is not
   just remember to keep breathing
       As long as you have a breath
    as long as you can grasp a breath
                 you breathe
                 keep fighting
                     I am here
                 I am with you
           I will always be here.

Cherie Nolan© 2016

A boy with a bear was sitting in his room.
The bear was missing an eye
and the thread was unraveling
but his mother promised to fix him up
to make him new again.

They were going to his friends house
and his mom told him to leave his bear
But the boy didn't listen.
That bear was his heart and soul.

It was a warm summer day
the sky was bright blue
not a cloud could be seen
and the boy opened his window.

Don't stick your arms out the window.
The boy didn't listen.
Don't stick your bear out the window.
The boy didn't listen.

He wanted his bear to feel the warm air
in the same way he did.
He just wanted the bear
to feel the warm air.

But with one large bump,
the boy lost his grip
and down, down, down it goes
into the street-like abyss

But he didn't say anything.
He didn't know how to speak.
His bear helped him and now he's gone
somewhere on the side of the street.

The boy closed his eyes
shaking his head
and he slowly closed his window.
His mother breathed a sigh of relief.

He stared out the window.
He didn't look back.
He turned a blind eye
to his own unraveling thread.

Where is your bear?
I dropped it
You dropped it?
I dropped it

By the time they went to look,
it was already too dark
and the bear was gone
and so was the boy

I dropped it
I dropped it
*I dropped it

Even Smokey the bear influence
couldn't save us from this forest fire.
Oil and fire will soon be mingled
with human anxiety and distress.