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Carmen Jane Mar 5
She pours poetry in her drawings
When her age is only four
Answering her talent's callings
That were never seen before.
Zealously she churns the marker
Into spirals,into circles
Making scribbles on the paper
And connecting miraged circuits.

Should her teacher see her now
She probably would interupt her
Would hold her hand to show her how
“Let's draw a flower!” she might spur,
"Let's glue these neatly precut shapes!"
And then her muse might start to flicker,
Her talent steadily reshapes
Just for another “well done” sticker…

I am ashamed, I almost stopped her
But then I felt  the rithm in her hands
Saw  her rhymes in her joyous  stir
Picking her idea’s strands.

“Look mama, it is a cyclone!”
Finally I see the meaning,
In your poem that you've drawn
With your wide smile, and eyes gleaming
You add quickly Dorothy's house
A triangle on top of square,
Reminiscing ‘f old type schoolhouse,
Your poem starts, right there, mid-air...
True story of today
Brayden Allen Feb 22
I want to hear the echo
of my own words.
I want to know
that you’ll be there
even when you know a storms coming
I need you there.
I’m so scared that one day
you might be gone,
you won’t be the first to go
won’t be the last.
Everyone from my past are ghosts
and i hate
pulling out the ouija board.
Don’t make me have to visit
our friendship’s grave
because I will be there everyday
for months wondering how to
bring back the dead.
Rituals, sacrifices, spells, and even prayers.
God whispering to me
telling me he knows how it will end
but i have to wait to see the road bend.
Seeing the storm coming
from a land far far away
knowing this isn’t a fairy tale
knowing I’ll never get my happy ending.
Even when you know the storm is coming
take my hand
and maybe we’ll get to Oz.
There’s no place like
home.
Home isn’t a place,
It’s the feeling of comfort you get
when you hear your echo.
It’s sitting down and knowing
you are here for a reason.
Understanding that we are
one with the earth
and this is my place on earth.
It’s seeing a picture of the beach or woods or mountains
and saying
proclaiming
“I’d rather be here.”
I’d rather be here with you.
I’d rather be here with you because
you haven’t left yet.
I don’t think you will but understand
that I have never had that extra hand,
a friend to reach out and say
“please don’t go away.”
I'm always afraid he will.
Deb Jones Jan 14
Soon she won’t need a dream induced tornado Like Dorothy did.
A little puff of air will carry her off to Oz.
#oz
It’s a bit like shock therapy
When you’d come to.
It was the Depression, sure,
And I was barely clothed and fed
But I woke up refreshed
Realigned and adjusted.
A clean sweep!
Surrounded by my loving family.
Back.
So this is the way things are;
The way things were,
Before
But it’s not so bad in comparison.

That over there was a disaster
The so-called
“Loss of consciousness”
Was I in a coma?
With witch’s feet
And those dancing trolls
A road leading where and why?
There are no other roads, so who cares the color?

It was a horror story, not a morality play
They were so presumptuous,
What I needed!
They told me that I had killed someone,
a complete stranger
and
That’s how it all started.

Bluebirds fly
Yes I suppose they do!
You are right!
I got my wish in a sick way
I went beyond a “rainbow” as it were

It was bad.
I liked those gorgeous orange woozy poppies
but so what,
I was asleep anyway.
Do you see what I mean?
Chased by monkeys and
people who don’t really like me.
Not really.
Not any more than anywhere else.
Despite what they say.
Everyone had his own agenda.
It was a matter of convenience and opportunities.
What was mine again?
Oh yeah.
For it to stop.

The Wizard was a Kansas Man
He said so himself
And when I showed up
Well he decided to clear out
I guess we were two Kansans too many

Stay with us Dorothy!
We love you!
All of us!
We don’t want you to go!
Doesn’t that sound a bit odd?

So I came back with this bit about
Well “if I ever look
for my heart’s desire
again
I will look no further
than my own backyard
Because if it isn’t there
(It gets good!)
I never really lost it
To begin with!”
Can you believe that?
I also relentlessly repeated
HOME over and over
and the word
LIKE
And somehow it all came to an end
I can’t really explain it but
It could have been a Jim Jones situation.

But do you think I believed any of it?
I escaped
And now I think that I know how to do it.
And I can do it again.
But to someplace
Else.
Danielle Mar 2018
Synapses roll off the tongue,
Stutter and glitch
Stut-t-t-ter and glitch
Repeat....Re...p-p-peat
Misfired.
You a broken doll
With your bright brilliance.
I loved the character Glitch from Syfy's Wizard of Oz
shall we meet
if only for the first time
though I feel we have danced
briefly
in times past
in the life I still live
in these fields of gold
songs that haunt me with their beauty

yet somewhere
over that rainbow of dreams
I sense you wait for me
when Autumn leaves fall
how dare I love a spirit
I do not know
yet it is my conviction that we are bound somehow
in time
after time

awaken me
in those darkest nights
in the absence of purity
before my soul is taken by the abyss
a whisper is all I need
whisper the word from that song...
somewhere
oldie - slightly revised - I was motivated to write this piece after hearing Eva Cassidy' s version of 'Over the Rainbow' which she never knew became a hit in England as she passed from cancer without ever having a record contract. She was offered, but they wouldn't allow her to choose her songs, so she refused to sign. She grew up in my town.
https://youtu.be/2rd8VktT8xY
Danielle Mar 2018
I gave up somewhere along this road—
When it was I don’t know.
So I’ll sit here, underneath the shade
And wait for the Tin man,
Now rusted in time, far behind me.
I discovered, sitting there, that day—
That losing a heart
Was actually an easy thing to do.
Long ago relationship poem, that still has some bearing on the present, almost funny how these things come right back around sometimes.
Arlo Disarray Jan 2018
A brick road laid in front of me,
one slab at a time
I took a step along the path
to see what I could find

A scarecrow cried out for help,
sounded like he was in pain
I asked him what he needed
and he expressed to me,
"a brain."

So I sliced my forehead carefully,
and took mine from my skull
I placed it in his head and said,
"there, now your mind is full."

He thanked me as I wandered on
to find another friend
I met a lion on the bricks
whose life was at its end

He was afraid of everything,
and he was so discouraged
So I reached into my gut
and I gave him all my courage

He smiled and waved
as I left
to give someone else a hand
And I heard the cries of sadness
from a rusted, old tin man

I asked him what he needed and he wailed out,
"a heart!"
So I pulled myself open and tore my ribs and chest apart

Now that I am empty,
I'm dumb, scared, and alone
All that I can think is,
"there is no place like home."
Lou Dec 2017
I could while away the hours 
    Conferrin' with the flower
Consultin' with the rain
And my head, I'd be scratchin'
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'
If I only had a brain...


Flashes,
Alms to flashes,
Storms on television sets
Domesticating nature for High Definition ****** fixation.
Suffocating families in screens.
Screens and flashes,

Alms to flashes.
Distractions spurn all my senses
I am hard and flaccid
and want more
but less
but right now
and again!...

I can feel the needle connect to my veins and into my spine
Push the plunger down and connection is made.

I would not be just a nuffin' my head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain.
Media has a powerful suggestive force on our lives.
Paul Butters Nov 2017
Every home has a Mother
Waiting with open arms at the door.
And a Dad in his armchair,
As the tradition goes.

Welcome to the lounge
Where we can huddle by the fire.
TV in the corner
And - if you have them –
Dogs and cats to ******.

Then there’s Sunday Lunch
And those daily aromas of baking.
Memories of scooping out the bowl
And eating most of the peas you shelled.

Home – a place of refuge
Where you can bring all your troubles
And have them resolved.

Our Mum kept a beautiful garden,
Resplendent with colourful flowers.
An oasis on a council estate.

As Dorothy Gale of Oz fame said before me:
There’s no place like Home.

Paul Butters

© PB 20\11\2017.
Looks like I've started an "Every" series.
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