How the greenery was brighter then, rose colored glasses. The sorrow kept within me dragging down like weeping willows. The bees hum slowly moving, time didnt matter then, the hourglass sandless. Birds flying cross the sky like airplanes swiftly, to be a wandering soul but flightless is like clipping the wings off a blue Jay. Soft clouds only seen if you look up, but looking up makes for wandering eyes. Everything was good then it seemed, I look up. I look.
©nora_m

Stalking up my dollars
Me no criminal
Ade the bad guy
said he wants my fight
original gangster J.G  
he his not your mate  
if you don't like what I'm writing
calm down
or go and commit suicide

J.G

awesome people are usually the broken ones
is the broken the most colorful glass?
awesome people get in the way
annoying as hell but making others say

new, strange, unexpected things
making them blushed, tingling in their cheeks
or simply inspire to do life differently
comfortable changes to curious inherently

change me by making me want to change,
awesome people, why do you live so out of range
I am closer to you than you think, however
awesomeness can be found anywhere, together

'awesome', just an awesome way to say
‘I admire you in a very special way’
‘wherever you are, a me is in there too’
‘I LOVE YOU, brave little soul - I am you’

****** Most Fowl!
by Michael R. Burch

“****** most foul!”
cried the mouse to the owl.

“Friend, I’m no sinner;
you’re merely my dinner!”
the wise owl replied
as the tasty snack died.

Published by Lighten Up Online and Potcake Chapbooks

NOTE: In an attempt to demonstrate that not all couplets are heroic, I have created a series of poems called “Less Heroic Couplets.” I believe even poets should abide by truth-in-advertising laws! This poem also questions who the "original sinner" was. How was it not the Creator, if such a being exists, since owls are forced by nature to ****** innocent mice and other prey animals? Is it possible that the Creator is not so heroic either? Keywords/Tags: Death, Nature, Rhyme, Pain, Creator, Predator, Prey, Mouse, Owl

nimble hands knit quickly through satin and sun–bleached linens
poking and pulling on hundreds of fine strings
find comfort and closure in tight fitting mittens
who’s corners and ridges so carefully sewn

children braiding red grass in the garden
an old woman resting her body at dawn
i owe these my life– these small, simple moments
that bring warmth to my skin when nothing else does.