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Thomas Sparrow Sep 2016
The Sheepscot’s always changing.
The tide comes in.
The tide goes out.
The sun comes up.
The sun goes down.
The fog rolls in.
The fog blows out.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.

The Sheepscot’s always changing.
Lobster boats come.
Lobster boats go.
They haul the traps .
The throw them back.
The sailboats tack.
The sailboats jibe.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.

The Sheepscot’s always changing.
The people come.
The people go.
The seasons come.
The seasons go.
The centuries come.
The centuries go.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.
JGuberman Aug 2016
If I never get a chance to say "goodbye"
will this be enough?

If my last breath goes unheard
and my last wish unfulfilled

To see you again
to feel your caress

To hold your hand
and watch the twinkle in your eye

Diffuse through a tear
it will never be enough

Just to feel the dusk breeze
one last time

Coming off the marsh
to hear the mournful warnings

Of the Killdeer and Plover
and from their heavenly reaches

The hungry Least Terns diving into the salt pannes
a hundred thousand migrating Tree Swallows

Clouding the road and sky
like final scattered thoughts

And the inability to sustain
all this beyond a last silence.
Out the window there,
Beneath the glassy, blue sky,
The white sun bleaches
Everything beneath its rays.
I wither inside.
I die if I venture out.
And yet, my heart yearns,
My soul burns, to see the world.
Mountains, rivers, seas;
Indeed, just to see a tree
I would leave it all.
I would risk the burning sun,
Drop it all and run,
If forests were there for me.
I would endure it,
Knowing that cool springs waited.
My heart climbs mountains
As I answer phone calls here;
My mind explores caves
As I file cash receipts.
I watch mountain lakes
Turn gold with the dying sun
As I read emails.
But some day, I will reach out
And instead of desk,
I will grab my mountain gear;
Some day, my fingers
Will callous and toughen up:
Instead of keyboard,
I'll skip rocks across a creek.
I will do it all,
See all I've wanted to see,
And feel the cool breeze
After climbing the mountains
And fording rivers.
I'll get out of this desk chair
And go explore what's out there.
Sarah Adams Jul 2016
Before stiff frost of winter melted to spring dew,
That was when I met you.
Windy gusts of goosebumps to fill the air
Making my arms stippled wings,
Almost ready to fly.
You wove me through the winds of those westward peaks.
Through sugar dusted days,
you were quickly woven in me.

My life's fabric,
newly adorned with the imprint of you-
A colorful, bright adornment to a darker whole.

The frost did melt,
And the river began to flow,
Your promising path was dealt.
And while you sailed away, the rains came, dropping silently from blue eyes
Slowly feeding the river.

It wasn't until the last drop of rain fell
That I noticed my wings
Full of life, renewed in strength and vigor
It was then I realized
You were my catalyst
For my own flight

While others fastened anchors to me,
Freedom was your gift

And with gratitude
The sea bird flies
Hoping to reach the mouth of the river
That carried you
Isabella Rossi Jun 2016
Rested your mop of hair
On piles and piles
Of poems old and new
Your mouth running like a faucet
Not yet digested meals and fluids
Your green apple chunks
And what used to be
A Reese's Peanut Buttercup
Give a new meaning to
The words they are slathered on top of
And underline
The word envy is no longer associated
With green
But a murky brown and gray
At least, to me
As I pet your head
Hoping to lessen the stream of the
Undigested
Blood leaks through the corner
Flowing with the unsightly current
Highlighting graphite
Crossing out the errors
All of it
ForeverNo-One May 2016
Rivers running through my mind
Rivers running through my hair
Rivers running through my life
Making it flow

Rivers running down my body
Rivers running in between my toes
Rivers running to the tips of my fingers
And straight off the edge

Rivers running everywhere
Rivers running through the woods
Rivers running down a hill
Making it all clean
It was in the magic of the forest, the colours of the deserted road
That I tasted the warmth of the Sun, and learnt to drink the bitter ocean whole

It was in the stirring of sugar and milk in aromatic tea
It was when each of my bones ached and desired, and I was brought down to my knees

It was when something like the river current blew a hurricane inside of me
That I hungered and lusted and craved to know what it was like being free

I felt the wind gently caress my face, it fondly teased and played with my hair
I felt the water enfold me, tenderly its bubbles and droplets delved into my skin, raw and bare

The earth cradled me like a child, the soft milky moonlight touched my skin, and feasted it's eyes upon me, not naked but exposed
They say the mountain is naked, how odd. They simply can't see her drapped under silken white snows
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