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the moon is lonely in the starry night
the sun is lonely amongst the cloud
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the teardrop is lonely in the waves of sea
the heart is lonely in the countless crowd
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the union is lonely while met so many
in the caravan too the loneliness found
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wrote many pages yet lonely is one word
lonely is the matter, the night, things around
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For Kim johanna Baker... translated my last poem
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Traveler
If you've never
Been as far
Thank your
Blessed or
Lucky stars
That you
Don't know
How it feels
To face the darkness
That consumes
At will
To take the devil
By his horns
To crown
Your lust
With prickly thorns
To hold the fire
Embrace the burn
To hide the scares
Of lessons learned
....
Traveler Tim
To this body
Death does as it should,
Consigns the shell
To the firewood
And sets the spirit free.


Close to the fire
the heat singes me.

I know it's only the prelude
to the fiery furnace
licking my skin with flaming tongues
reducing me to powdered ashes
disappearing and in no time fading
what was me but in an instant
dusts in urns and upon wall
and years after maybe one's
untimely rains of dusty memories.
Crematorium, Dec 16 2017 midnight.
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Donna
The sun gives me warmth
happiness and lots of smiles
She's such a good friend
I love the summer and her beautiful sun x
Inspired
Take care x
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Kim Essary
What's not to love of this time of year, the breath of  summer in the south so fragrant and clear.
Blooming flowers blowing in the summer breeze, lifting a brisk scent of aroma so divine.
The honeysuckle growing wild  nurturing itself as it twists and turns through the cudzu vines.
The sights of the country never get old.
As I sit on my front porch, calming the evening, peering at the sunset of vibrant colors mixing both light and bold.
The darkness here carries no fear as the twinkling wings of the lightning bugs inspire a feeling of freedom as they blink rapidly to light the way..
The moon and the stars are ever so clear, in the darkest of nights it's like morning here.  
You never feel alone under the southern country sky,
You can always hear the sounds of the birds, the crickets , the frogs and faithful mag pie.
A peaceful encounter if you have never been, you should come here some day and you will see what I mean.
©kimmied1105
I love the southern summer in the country.
Listen more often
To the earth, rocks and grass
The roots of trees that go deep inside
And whisper of the past

Listen to the clouds rumble
Thunder and heave a sigh
As they speak to birds of creation
That pirouette in the sky

Listen to the whispers of seashells
The verses of waves in rhyme
That carry the songs of sailors
And hum the melodies of time

Listen more often
To the roses and the wind
Listen to the rain and rainbow
Listen to the soul of things
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Ciel Noir
The vulture is a peaceful bird
She watches, circles patiently
Waiting for life to become death
So she can gather what she needs

The vulture does not maim or slay
And causes neither harm nor strife
She walks in the shadow of death
And so turns death back into life
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