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  Nov 2017 Iska
Pagan Paul
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Boiling clouds approach the dawn,
a profusion of sinister foreboding,
banking up to obscure the day,
a menacing storm just reloading.

A figure runs across the moor,
panic and purpose in hostile flight,
pursued relentless across the heather,
desperately chasing the receding night.

A treeline beckons promising safety,
a disguise from the hunters view,
open ground slips passed slowly,
the forests sanctuary calls anew.



I wake startled, heart hammering in my chest,
fight or flight images seek my mind to infest.
The pounding in my head, hooves on a forest floor,
provoke shivers, as rivulets upon a dampened moor.
My breathing slows and sweat dries upon my skin,
a sense of belonging starts to grow from within.
Dazed I slip sideways out of my comfort bed,
and stare into the mirror at the antlers on my head.
I return to the bed and casually slide back in,
wondering where my fantasy dreams had been,
but all I discovered was another fitful sleep
as the images form of a treasure I keep.

Memory bubbles up and I am in a glade,
sun shining bright and sat in the shade.
Billhook and bow saw propped by a tree,
the life in the forest feeling good to me.
Peace and tranquility, I counted my luck,
when out of the trees sprang a young buck.
So fragile but already magnificent and proud,
stomping his hooves, snorting out loud.
Brave and insolent he looked at my eyes,
staring me down, holding caution so wise.
A look passed between us, a mute reflection,
an instant mind meld of atavistic connection.
I was He and He was me,
my spirit guide for eternity.
And the sun shone upon us in that glade,
the forest spirits celebrating that bond made.



With failing energy, tired from the chase,
a thought of doom and my senses race.
Taking rest in the heart of a clearing,
a quick twang and the pain is searing.
Surrounded in a trap the hunters prepared,
there is no way of escape, I am ensnared.
The loosed arrows point is sharply felt,
as a crimson flood stains my pelt.
Mind is swooning and my legs bend.
This is not how the Old Tales end ...


The scythe of Death merrily reaps,
lightening strikes, thunder rolls.
The frigid grave waits so silent,
empty, for he whom the bell tolls.

Boiling clouds obscure Dawns pale skies,
as the hunters horn in triumph it cries.
This is the End, when the dream dies.
My heart is still and I gently close my eyes.



© Pagan Paul (11/11/17)
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Not all stories have a happy ending.
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  Nov 2017 Iska
sunprincess
--------x-----------x--------------x-----------x---------

Where­ rattlesnakes are sliding across a prairie forgotten,
And the western wind twirls up a twirling dustbowl  

Whispers upon the wind, ancient voices of our ancestors
  Across the land of the wild buffalo, and ancient crowe

When time unwinds and more than silence can be heard,
Just hold on silently for a moment, and listen closely

Sometimes a young child's cry, sometimes a jubilant laugh
Many voices of our ancestors, A sweet song of long ago


--------x-----------x--------------x-----------x---------
  Nov 2017 Iska
Lori Jones McCaffery
Neither Nightingale or Crow
Neither Whippoorwill or Sparrow
Perched on phone lines, never trees
Still those birds have the right to sing.

Target of bad boys’ B B Guns
Splashed with water canons
They fly til they can fly no more
And tremble in the shadows.

Their feathers have a bit of shine
When sunbeams fall just right
But all too often that just makes
Them that much easier to find

And targets them for hatred rocks
Thrown by those who only
Recognize a Woodpecker
And a Robin Red Breast.

Too bad their music goes unheard
Most often it is beautiful
If they could sing with the other birds
The music would become symphonic.
                 ljm
I heard the first line in my head with no idea where it would go.
  Nov 2017 Iska
CharlesC
Life lived in content
without noticing that which
contains the content..
So..it has always been..
Yet..many teachings lament
that our un-noticing
brings our suffering..
And..makes mysterious
our own name..
We seem anchored
in content with its
enjoyment and pain..
What can we notice
in the white border
of this page...?
Iska Nov 2017
unspoken words spill through the air,
dripping and falling both vile and fair.
unspoken love unspoken hate,
I see it all no need to blate.
In anger your vision clouds in reds,
when cold clarity smears my vision instead.
In sadness you worry and weep in pain,
wondering if perhaps I'm just not the same.
But sorrows, I have no time to attend,
all I can do is assure your still my friend.
In happiness you claim, I'm the best friend you've had,
when in reality I'm wondering, if you've gone quite mad. :)
I see it all, both old and new..
from the silent worry to
the unspoken "I love you"s
to this I say no need to fret
for you I can not abandon yet.
and as to the love, you keep silent in fear,
you know that I cannot help you here...
I belong to another, yet i still hold you dear,
and know, that as a friend, I shall always be here.
for the eyes of one man alone to hold
for to him this poem is carved from gold.
Iska Nov 2017
My dearest mother




















do you see it?
that's the space put between us,
filled with unspoken words and heartache.










can you hear it?
that's the defining silence,
filled with quiet disappointment and shattered dreams,
because I'm not the girl you hoped I'd be...
  Nov 2017 Iska
LISH
I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
for those heart broken nights I kept a secret
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
For when we had to stretch a dollar and I acted like I was full, but I really wasn't
I wanted to say I'm sorry to you mama
That during those times that you locked yourself in your room and the cried acting like I didn't know, I already did
 I'm wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
For not being the girl that you wish I was to be
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
Because my heart has been broken so many times and I won't dare tell you
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
Because the biggest secret I have kept is one that is hardest to speak
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
 for those nights that I locked myself in the room and cried silently so you wouldn't know
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to your Mama
Because you do not know the reason why those tears rolled down my face
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
Because you will not know that shadow of my past haunts me at night
I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
 That my ankles are chained to a wall of self-doubt and regret
I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
Because you don't know a man's words is what made me like that
 I wanted to say I'm sorry to you Mama
Because I have no idea how to say all of that
Sometimes what I wish I can say
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