In what form is love?
- spirit, they say we affirm, we
readers of poetry and fantasy, they
thee common literate audience ******
religio politico industrial always right,
on the side of justice, as it seems,
to the minute, did I remember
to meet the grandchildren at the busstop.
NO,
I did not, and would not have but, their
grandma called their grandpa to remind him,

be cause he as been waxing more beamused,
made afraid for the moment, mind
time pause, now, we think, how say
the sages past, must we treat
with care for fear of proud wrath,

encultured hero worth, a weight
in the bag we measure worth with,
Jungian *** archetype old guy, no powers,
patiently refolding complex islands of mysteries,
never needing to have been, all spread out, trust me,
we uns stretch it always out, just smooth
as touch in rest in time to think. True rest./.NPC
compressed rest, as time accelerates and few guess,
we were the missing energy, we few who blew our minds.

We revived in many old ties to whys too deep to reason
directly with, we had ****** shames of lives we ruined,

we all felt it was wrong when we did it, but the boss
said god said, how was we to know, tsalhearsay, here

we say.
Stop and let the money makes its answer, lovelessly.

It's about to be 3am
And you swear you can hear
Your neighbor thrashing
Inside herself
Through the loud bass
Of her sad music.
You've just seen her earlier
Disappearing into her laptop screen
Before you knocked on her door
And she comes out
Greeting you
Before she can even realize
That she's back inside herself
And not lost somewhere
Between the lines of words
That have lives of their own,
Feeding off of her
Until she's no more.
You tell her about the bill
And she fumbles to open the screen
To hear you clearly
Because she forgets she's still here
And she has a neighbor
She shares a water meter with.
She takes the paper off your hands
Reads it and gets some money
And hands you the payment.
You're not sure if she said thank you
Cause she spoke but you didn't hear any words
So you retreat back to your unit
And forget all about her
Until you wake up in the middle of the night
And hear all the words
Her thoughts are screaming out
And you think of all the times you thought
You've seen your neighbor.

A team of four - or more than two
Tappy children waddle by -
To see the lake - with a loon, with
Their mother - looking nigh:

Their funny games, which all they play
Throughout the night of orange suns;
Of tannéd eyes the streetlights flay
And run on home would all of them:

Then father comes and takes away
To other places in a night;
All gone the children, gone today -
Perhaps they'll come another time.

My neighbor died on April 8, 2021 and his name was Joe.
I learned about his death and I'm saddened to see him go.
He wasn't just my neighbor, he was also my friend.
It was sad when I learned that his life came to an end.
For the last year or two, he was staying at a nursing home and his house was empty.
I learned about his untimely and unfortunate death when I saw his obituary.
Joe was a welcome change from the people who formerly owned his house.
Joe moved next door in 1996 and a few years ago, he lost his beloved spouse.
Now he's in Heaven with his wife, both of them are in a better place.
Joe was my neighbor and friend and he was a credit to the human race.

I hear the patter of
the rain on the leaves
of the oak tree.
It reminds me of my
daughter's soft footsteps on
the hardwood floor.
She's 3 years old,
and has gorgeous blue eyes like
her mama.
She owns my heart.
The neighbor downstairs
pounds on his ceiling whenever
my daughter walks across the floor.
It scares her.
I went to his door to tell
him to stop pounding,
and he wouldn't answer.
As a poet, I'm a gentle soul,
but honestly, I want to
harvest his kidneys and
fill his ears up with *****.

You knock and knock
But I can’t let you in
My home is unclean
There's mountains of clutter from head to toe
I constantly stand in filth and dust
I hear you knocking
But I'm too ashamed to let you in
Why do you continue to knock?
Why don't you believe no one's home?
Aren’t you tired?
You have stood there for so long
So I finally cleaned my cluttered home
And I answered my door
And there stood Jesus
Patiently waiting for me to let him in

                          -LaToya Martin

A bitter dispute,
I just yelled at my neighbour
And called him a clown

If God was your neighbour in a village,
you would have exchanged pleasantries,
would have know by the look in his face whether he had lunch or not. His eyes would have told you if he needed a shoulder to cry. In the city in a flat if he was your neighbour would have met him in the corridor or lift occasionally giving and receiving a meaningless smile. If that's gods story just imagine the rest.

A True Story
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy Michael Burch

Jeremy hit the ball today
when he and I went out to play.
He hit it, oh, so far away,
a neighbor had to throw it back!

Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew into the neighbor’s yard
and caught the other kids off-guard;
they thought it was an air attack!

Jeremy hit the ball again,
above the sun, beyond the wind;
as we watched it soar and slowly spin ...
we gave high-fives for his awesome smack!

Keywords/Tags: baseball, hitting, backyard, child, children, childhood, kids, fence, neighbor, yard, play, air, home run, homer, high-fives