pluviophile May 10

behind monochrome layers of fog,
clouds,
ice,
are beauties of the natural world.
long forgotten and taken for granted,
a variety of reds,
blues,
yellows pile up.
our spectrum -
our prism of crystal glimmers -
fill up our everything.
now,
fading away in my remembrance,
remains nothing but a sheer shine,
a dazzling imagination
filled with extraordinary visions,
replacing the wonderland
outside of it.

written by c.g.

“several wolves were introduced...
...rejuvenating vegetation
with the deer henceforth
avoiding those areas”

and now behold sprouting grass
and blossoming branches;
makes you think whether balance
always leans on a quota of violence

I start seeing in my park
the flora is suffering
I’ve let in too many deer
and they’ll eat everything offered;
they know not when to stop
leaving the trees bare boned,
chewing the bark
just because it is there.
And I'm sorry my deer
but our gardens could use some wolves
for the good of the land
(but we’re) learning the hard way,
seeing the truth in
“Too much of a good thing cannot be a good thing”

either the wolves come in, or a habitat collapse
Sunil Sharma Apr 27

A few drivers,
mid-summer afternoon

lean against the divider,
paint peeling

some perch on it lightly---
indulge in hot group-talk;

the waltzing-shadow
of a banyan tree
opposite side of the
auto-rickshaw stand---

a street-art, delicate, dark-hued;

the phantom arms
hug
the disparate crew
in a tight family-embrace,
its breath tousling their hair

and it---
protects them from
the Mumbai heat!
@Sunil Sharma

A real scene witnessed and then embellished.
Wyatt R Apr 18

There is something oh-so sweet
about things that will never be.
Our imaginations
must have sugar teeth
while the grim reality's
only been bitter to me.
Taking slow sips
as I smell the coffee,
raw with nothing added to it.
A blow to my confidence,
a knot in my stomach,
it's brought me to my knees.
A punch of a strong taste,
a kick to the face,
this is the touch of defeat.
Unadulterated,
cultivated naturally.
Oh life, it's only ever
tasted bitter to me.

Can you taste it?

That's why I walked right into her
While I knew she would change
Because change is so natural
She just stepped in my life
And pupate out one fine day
But she will not come back here
Whatever that was thought or said!

For she is just another butterfly,
And I'm not looking for insects.

My HP Poem #1508
©Atul Kaushal
Hannah Apr 14

It took me years
to fall in love with myself.
It was a foreign idea
throughout my childhood.
I remember the jealousy I felt
for the girls with flawless skin,
and perfectly straight hair.
I thought they were beautiful,
and they were,
but not in the most natural way.
I wanted to be the girl
who was beautiful
after rolling out of bed at noon
without any makeup
besides the mascara
from the night before.
I wanted to be the girl
who was effortlessly beautiful
without giving it a second thought.
I always admired those girls.
I loved the security
that radiated off them,
like the shimmer of sunshine
on delicately tan skin.
It took me years
to become one of those girls.
It was a slow process.
It took the shedding
of a society built for
flawless makeup ridden
artificially created beauty.
It took acceptance
for who I am without the mask.
It took forgiveness
for the flaws I was blessed with at birth.
It took years,
but I'm finally there.
I'm one of those
naturally beautiful girls.
I'm one of those girls
that could careless about shaving,
or washing their hair.
I'm a girl without cares.
I'm a girl in love with herself.

Shibu Varkey Apr 12

Your spirit has the smell of earth,
kissed by first rain,
effervescent with scent of promise,
Your spirit has the smell of the sea shore,
the breeze, sweet with the salty spray of power.
Your spirit has the smell of the mountain side, grassy meadow wild with fragrance of untame flowers
Your spirit has the smell of a monastery, mystic camphor serene thoughts of living.
Your spirit has the smell of the battle,
blood, gore, flesh and fight
Your spirit has the smell of a maiden
out from her scented bath,
sensual, drip dripping
Your spirit has the smell of forest,
wild sweaty, hot and humid.
Your spirit has the scent so honest,
of love pure tho rugged and rough

Jack Jenkins Mar 30

in the golden skies
rain and sun intertwine to
make rainbows above

Good morning you beautiful people, you!
Sarah Mar 27

her spirit was so powerful,
I believed she controlled the weather.

her smile caused her eyes to crinkle and the smallest sliver of light shone through to brighten the sky.

her mouth created the most beautiful sounds while laughing and singing. It felt like the calm before a storm because for a short moment,
everything seemed perfect.

her tears in her dark hours caused monsoons and tsunamis. So much pent up emotion in one fragile person created the idea of a dam breaking when her world does too.

her rage that forms with the realization that no one can change the inevitable life brings, causes her to shake with fury. The dark sky breaks open with a momentary light. She makes lightning with her quick, angry ideas that are bursting out of her collapsing body.

her shaking hands are the slowing down of rough seas. The drying of puddles after a spring shower. She's sorry for the mess she has made but doesn't realize it's only natural.

it's in her nature, so that's why it happened in a cycle.
I stood in the eye of her hurricane and watched her fall in a downward spiral.

Written 6/14/15
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