Crinoline filaments
Rolling over and over
Mid-flight the ochre velvet ribbons sailed to the left
Instead of to the right
Two feet retreating
But with one shoe on

Memory returns
For a few seconds of
the calamity at that private house in Paris
She’d tumbled down the staircase with legs overhead
until she stopped miraculously at the shining leather toes of the footman.
He kept his head up.
She wore a beautiful dress.
Her hair was quite precise and she hoped that that would be a sufficient enough apology towards an empty silence.

But this isn’t that.
I shoved her.
And she went willingly. They all do.
We’re roughly a group of fifty-three.

Gathering in the last few years
Whispering over drinks
of tumors
And vascular difficulties
Of pills and appointments and forgetfulness
They never mentioned that
In those climate controlled rooms with
Blackboards covered in Latin and Trigonometry
Of the body’s failure.
Now there’s no longer any mention of kids or whether or not that husband was worth the bother

Did we notice atop
The balance beam not a peep was mentioned
About the moment when you can no longer walk or stand?
That the brain asks please but the body will not comply?
How cool the marbled floor feels against your cheek while you lay for hours in your own feces?
One can rest comfortably knowing at long last that that wallpaper was the right choice.
Kept one really engaged while waiting and waiting for someone.
And that is just the beginning, right?

Perhaps some assumed that the end would come with a daily circle reviewing the contents of their chamber pot
Grimacing and worn
While they recline in white nightclothes
Something akin to what they saw on the BBC

Perhaps a startled disquiet at the rebuke of their intent and gamely stares from a premiere specialist in Switzerland
an expert in alternative therapies for what someone dared call
Anyway, this is quicker.

So we’ve come together
As sisters
And when the time is right I get the call
We go onto the roof
There’s an elevator now because
Otherwise that wouldn’t work
And one by one
In small batches
They are dispatched
It doesn’t take as long as you would think
We are confident and have agency
We were taught that we could do anything
And they are right.

The ones with a lot of metal can be a bit tricky
They have balance issues
But always chic and always polite
There was a time when we were forced to be together when we clearly did not want to be.
Some families are better than others.
But everything is different now

One day it will be my turn and
I wonder who will deliver me?
And what shall I wear?
Will I try to see where I’m going or will I rest comfortably in my finale.

I adore the way the wind catches the cloth.
How the crystalline beads are removed around the neck and handed over
so as not to add to any distraction
The pinky coral mouthed “Thank you” and
And the sweet eyes that once were bright and shining in their
Rippling twirling looping interweaving cascading
Aa Harvey 17h
Take Care

So delicate a flower has never been touched,
By such worn golden fingers, so callous and rough.

Such care must be taken, when speaking of love,
In case your inner thoughts are misinterpreted,
With the slip of a tongue.

Then what would become of loves chosen lovers?
A different path they would have to choose,
As they go in search of another.

Missed opportunities, come and go,
The whispered words that are never heard,
Only speak of sorrow.

Unless such care, did the lady take,
To listen to this poor boys, tears of pain.

(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Aa Harvey 17h

Logic dictates that we must escape,
The shackles of youth and mature with age,
But who can decide when we have matured enough?
Surely we all have a part of us that needs to remind us of the fun,
We had when we were young.

The first time we found love, finding the music of our life.
Memories that takes us back to a moment when we were happy.
Maturity is a good thing, but so is immaturity sometimes.
Do what you love, all hobbies are good.
The older we get the more we love the way thing used to be.

Become what they expect you to be,
Between the hours of nine and five;
But an evening of your life is yours to do with as you please.
Find someone you love and if they feel the same way,
They will accept you are young at heart
And they will accept your immaturity.

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
An aging world,
An aging race,
A pace moving slowly,
Yet almost at light speed.
Time a cruel master,
That sends its agents of aging,
out to destroy man.
Haleigh 1d
not so long ago
they made you feel
not so alone

the compulsive criteria
of social media

and the claustrophobia
that comes
when you can understand people
but not love them

It sits in a blind corner
like a forgotten foreigner
mentioned in sentences
that start with
"remember back when..."

The lesson of technology is to go with the flow

The lesson of time is in old and fading photos
where you are holding
a landline phone and
pretending to
got a sign from the old man;
he lives above here
lit the bulb in my head;
it said have no fear

take a walk on the path
of just be you
never too late
to yourself be true

believe son believe and
the world will conspire
to make all of YOUR
dreams come true

got a sign from my M.A.N.
in the stratosphere;
"do what you're meant to do...
cuz I'll be right here,
with open arms
and a case of stardust beer"

take a stroll on the path
they've paved for you
the souls of the stars will shine and see things through

believe son believe and
the universe conspires
to make YOUR wildest,
wildest dreams come true
RIP: M. A. Nuñez (AKA Dad) In the grand scheme of things, I'll see you soon. I love you and thanks for the guidance from above
ArC 2d
Hi there it's been a while, I understand that it's been a while.  We both have went our separate ways and being back in the same place sure is wild.  I love your style it's so rugged.  It really matches your personality.  You haven't changed a bit.  I can't believe I am seeing you again, but let's be honest....I see you everyday.  You've been on my mind constantly.  The only consistent thing that I truly need.  I missed you.
Just an old love, but same feelings.  We all have that one person.  Don't be selfish and throw them away.
Ellison 3d
I see him every day
Stumbling by the streets that are as old as him.
His wispy air tumbles past his shoulders
As his eyes glaze down and out.

Sometimes I see him walk
And hover without a mouth
It only appears for a cancer stick
That he drains the tobacco clean.

Each time I pass the shield of smoke
He puts up where he sits
I wonder when the day will come
He finishes his final one.

Because I know once he was young too
And I've yet to come by and sit with him
And ask his story after I say these words,
"Hello, old man."
This is a real person I usually see during my week, I really don't know how old he is and how close he is to dying from his chain-smoking routine, but I found him quite poetic.
She is like fire,
She burns everything on her way.
Without any hesitation or delay.

She is like fire,
A free-spirit who knows no bound.
Her feet just won't stay on the ground.

She is like fire,
You can see it in her eyes.
She can be both childish and wise.

She is like fire,
Her desire is to touch the sky.
All she wants is to fly.

She is like fire,
She travels to soothe her soul.
While, I admire her from afar and grow old.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
It is about someone I know. I have left the ending vague and abrupt, intentionally. Happy reading!
"do you think you truly know me?"
i hear you ask through the thick air surrounding us.
and i’m scared to say that,
to me, you are that small space in time before
the pot boils over the last cherry is picked
the first raindrop drips from the sky.
you’re the suspension that could be lived in
always hoping for perfection because
once occurring, the what could have been is broken
and that’s when i’m scared we’ll crack.
eggshell on tile floor and brittle dried clay
we wouldn’t be sharp glass but
a plaster wall with a single tear through the middle.
and i’m scared to tell you that when i saw the way
the cement under the bridge turned brown from the ruin of the rain,
the iron bleeding,
i thought of you.
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