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tabitha Nov 2015
i think of kentucky when i think of love~
of who we were before
not because of him,
or what i what i thought was happening up above
i think about you standing there, in the library door
or about how intensely i stared at your floor when
i was working up the courage....
i think about how i missed him every single day
                                                 everything was grey
then you played your accordion
and it all went away
                                            *kentucky has the greenest grass i've ever seen
                                                            ­     ~
i begged you away from the edge of the roof once.....
whiskey was heavy on your breath and
the world was heavy on your chest and
you sat next to me and
you didn't jump
i really thought you might....

it was one of the only times
i ever felt like a useful human being in this
                                      whirling winding world of poetic energy
                                                  and compassionate synergy,
                                                        
       ­                                                (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

so.... if talking you away from edges of roofs,
if warmly burrowing in your truths,  
makes me feel like a useful human being in this
                               whirling winding world of self-inflicted lethargy
                                                     and romantic anarchy,

                                                       ­              ok
now i just must figure out how to deliver this.....
Tara Marie Oct 2015
I still can hear the drifting cars
and burnouts in my ears.

feels like it was just yesterday
where red lights lasted years

skies were full of rubber--smoked,
sun was cold and hot

a yesterday from months before
I couldn't have forgot

I feel your hand collapsing mine,
the jokes and many laughs

comradery amongst the rain,
perfume, cologne, race gas

I just had slipped up days before
and told you my heart fell

sun set and woke, so many jokes,
cars ran parallel.

a yesterday I won't forget,
you took my hands in yours

the sun hiding behind the clouds
few raindrops on our pores

while pistons move in cylinders
two cars line up somewhere

crankshafts like jacks in boxes,
and wind blows through our hair

you looked at me like time was lost
while friends sat watching speed

my heart beat faster than the
boosted car that I heard lead

surrounded by our favorite things
a few people that we knew

I saw a smile fill your eyes
when you said "I love you."
LSFest 2015
Ron Sparks Jul 2015
I know
the feelings she
stirs in my ***** when I
look at her are wrong 'cause she's my
sister
Sometimes I get silly when I write poetry . . .
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2015
Bluegrass sprouts a brow,
When Kentucky’s one crow left;
Feign drawl and bourbon.
Cori MacNaughton Jul 2015
Driving through Louisville
in a driving rain storm
at dusk
The seventh of seven poems written this morning.
Meg B Mar 2015
It was a Sunday afternoon when I
went for an impromptu drive,
keeping my foot on the gas and snaking
among the one-ways and the
downtown traffic as I
made my way to the river.
I put the heat on
ever so slightly just so
I'd be warm enough to roll
the windows down and feel that
fresh spring air on my face.
I wore my retro hat backwards,
and my Raybans covered my eyes,
my cool demeanor and slouchy posture
in sync with the steady rhythm of the
90s hip hop booming through my
speakers.
I watched the sun as it made love to
the river's chop, and
I snuck a glance at the stolen kisses
the green grass shared with the
tall trees on the shoreline.
Beautiful yellow and purple buds
splattered the bushes like
Impressionism,
thick dabs of color that all blended
into a beautifully disorganized
vision of the season of
rebirth.
I sprouted wings and flew outside
my body as I inhaled
pollens and flower nectar,
as my skin reddened under the
bright sunlight,
my self got lost in the time and space
continuum that swallowed me
like ground swallowed up the last
traces of snow, replacing my ground
with the warmth and
rebirth that spring always brings
after a long winter.
A man in a flower shop… What a sight! He doesn’t know what to do, how to pick, where to look. Too many colors! Too many choices! I’m not sure what she likes…
What a weakness it is, to be a man next to flowers… Something so fragile and so beautiful, it makes him look stagnant in a world of much flow.
Then, in walks F. Scott… What are you?! You look mighty fine by this Rose. Do the thorns disrupt you? Do the petals leave you longing?
I thought you had a thing for Kichijoten-- in her Temple; next to the Sakura blossoms of Japan…
My, my. You can’t be part of the Lost Generation; I think you’ve found your place! As I look for mine by the Cattails and fresh Dahlias…
Have you seen these bunches of Baby’s Breath?? Sincerity only costs $3.95; it’s much more expensive nowadays… They don’t even play Jazz music here… What are you doing here, Fitzgerald? I know you aren’t here for the Hyacinths…
Has someone slain your heart again? My heart was slain many times, but everything happens for a reason, right Francis??
I know you have a thing for Gold, come check out these Daisies…and brighten your day. Don’t fret. Don’t fear. Loosen your heart and let it be free. I’m here. And everything is okay.
The Daisies? Really? Awful choice… I was only kidding about those.
Meg B Feb 2015
There is a fork in the road
where I veered left to merge onto
I-65,
and I spotted the same
bilboard I look up at
every day on my commute to work,
but now it was at eye level,
and I thought to myself,
*well, I guess that's what we call
perspective.
LittleFreeBird Jan 2015
That summer was hotter than any of the others before. The county was dryer than it had ever been, and the kids more restless than years past. I was sitting on the front porch at my granddaddy’s, swinging slowly with the breeze that offered no relief from that God awful heat. I was in a little black sundress, which was hard to find because most people prefer pink or yellow or orange  - anything but black during the summer. But you can’t wear pink or yellow or orange to a funeral. So there I sat, in my black sundress, black sun hat and black heels. I even had black sunglasses, but I opted for those on my own. I had no desire for every eye in Harlan to see me cry. The sunlight hurt my eyes anyway; I had one hell of a hangover. The night before was the first time I’d drunk anything but sweet tea or water in my life. My body did not take kindly to it. I was doing a lot of things my body did not take kindly to as of late, drinking being only one of the many vices I’d begun to partake in. “Come on girl, we best get a goin’. Ain’t gonna do to be late for this one.” Granddaddy offered me a hand and helped me up. The car ride there was silent, but I would catch him every once in a while glancing over at me to make sure I was “Keepin’ my **** together.” He knew about the drinking and had my hide for it.  It was far too soon that I had to step out of the car and walk to the front row where your family sat. The rest of the day went by in a blur. Your momma hugging me. Your daddy shaking my hand. Your sisters clinging to the skirt of my dress. I don’t know when I started crying, just that the tears seemed like they had been there since the day I was born. The songs we sang were all wrong and the sky was too blue and the birds sang too loud. The wind blew too much and not enough, because if it had been enough it would have carried me far, far away from that place, but too much because it’s sigh sounded far, far too much like yours. I kept it together until that first handful of dirt hit the lid of that ****** box that was going to hold you for the rest of eternity. I remember being jealous because I wanted to be the one holding you, not that hole in the ground. When it was my turn to throw it in, I fell. I fell as hard as when I fell in love with you, except you weren’t there to catch me this time, you were too busy in entering into the arms of our Good Lord. So I kissed the dirt I held in my hand (when it finally stopped shaking) and threw it in, then I tried to throw myself in. But granddaddy caught me before I could get to you and they covered you up before I could claw my way in. It hasn’t been the same since you left; the air doesn’t smell near as sweet and the sun doesn’t burn near as bright. I haven’t had the heart to wash the mud off that dress yet and I’ve had too much heart to throw it away. You left me to live in a world full of contradictions, Darlin’. Left me to live a life that knocks me to the ground and waits for me to get back up, just so it can kick me in the teeth.

And, I suppose, in your absence, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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