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Jenny Gordon Oct 13
...or--what?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXII)


Rain trips so lightly in the hallowed sense
Of keener silence listning to that frail
Step traffic rushes heedless through.  Birds hail
With merry notes and fragile, as from hence
Lo, crickets murmer like for all intents
The solemn ghost of patience walks here, pale
As Sunday's dimmer eye.  Clouds' masque the veil
Oer all, an airplane's voice sifts through, and whence?
Oh! how the maples' boughs rock, tinged as twere
By orange' first warnings of that rendezvous
With Death.  Winds caller as they whisper through
This calm, wool, tights, and tweed now, are not poor.
And if I mourn that I've ne lover fer
Whatever, somehow even that's not new.

07Oct18a
Titles, as all know, are rather tricky things.  And when I finished this particular stanza I drew a blank, then...presto?
With wet
and black
the night
is thick.
It rains.
I sink
in stains
of ink.

O.O
Lynnia Oct 6
through the happy,
through the glad,
when the good things yield their crops,
when life just grins and never stops,
puddles of laughter all around.

through the friendship,
through the love,
through the yellow, orange, and pink,
when *** paints the sky with heaven’s ink,
puddles of laughter all around.

jump so high,
nearly fly,
puddles of laughter all around

through the black,
through the bleak,
through dreary days where joy is dead,
through poison thoughts that pound your head,
puddles of laughter all around.

through the sorrow,
through the pain,
through endless grey and silent tears,
through the seven famine years,
puddles of laughter all around.

going down,
run aground,
puddles of laughter all around.
friendship rings,
angels sing,
Laughter soaks through everything.
*** and good friends are all you really need.
BasilLvoff Aug 8
Drizzle, mizzle, mizzle, drizzle, drip.
Boiling coffee, gray newspaper, sip.
Boring neighbors upstairs stomp and cough.
In New York, no one’s a theosoph.

Drip, drop, drizzle, drip, drop, drizzle, splash.
Puddles, hurdles, honking, stinky trash.
And “excuse me! Sorry! Getting off?!”
The sky is dull and gray like a damp cloth.

But lo! And don’t get blind! Midst shouts of fear
And joyful cries,
With cherubs at his side,
Lightening the skies,
Dazzling to sight
Westwards he dashes, the radiant charioteer.
Amanda May 1
Do you remember those nights
We laughed and talked until sleep?
With you laying by my side
I had no need for medication or sheep.

Remember the inside jokes?
The dishonest promises we made?
I do not see how you could forget,
For me the memories will not fade.

Remember all the puddles?
With bare, cold, feet our bikes we rode,
Down your drowned driveway,
At the end we slowed.

We shared our simple secrets,
Things no one else knew,
I thought you would be there for me,
Because I am always there for you.
Sometimes we expect more from others because we would be willing to do that much for them.
And like that she became wet.
******* before she bathed in the storm.
Umbrella left home, by the door.
She wanted to be cleansed.
Clothes thrown to the side.
Where's the fun in being dry.
To rush every moment that craves to be moist.
Splashing in puddle after puddle.
The Infatuation of being free.
The depth of being caught in a portrait just before it drys.
Covered in layer after layer of heavy blue.
A foam of white.
A kiss that quenches every thirst.
Our lips the brush that sops the wetness.
Forever more.
To purposely be caught without an umbrella
i
am
refined

in
an
ring of fire
found under
my
halo
?



















...
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sensitivity
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