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 Mar 29 Karijinbba
SCHEDAR
The presence of the Evergreen

how boldly she stands
commanding only
that we are grateful
for her beauty

how effortlessly she sways
in whispers
making pure
the air we breathe

how tenderly her pyramidal silhouette
fills the surrounding domain
with protection and hope

how humbly she invites
the glow of
sunset's golden embers
to ignite her pine candles
accenting her adorned humility

Ever reminding us
the nature of peace
Ever since I was a little girl
there was an Evergreen across the street
Day by day we watched each other grow
Only in recent years did I realize how she far surpassed me in length
all 50 feet of her
I began to notice at sunset how she would call to me to look at her, though not with words,
but golden hues igniting her branches
like a warm fire scouting out my soul
The peace I felt was like a spiritual awakening
that which only nature could supply

One day someone informed me
they were taking her down
I became grief-stricken over it..
like the loss of a close friend
I've had a longing for her ever since
I have never experienced another tree call to me in that way, though nature continues
to call
Silently
My soul whisper
Like a birds song
After a summer rain

Remember
Where youve been
And need but still to be

The truth is beckoning
To let go
And be

Free
Tears
are not afraid
to get wet—
tears will find
another way
through—

Like rain cutting
new roads
through rock

Like rivers tricking
land to let go

Even the smallest
drop knows—
water moves
what won’t
Can I hold your
attention for no
longer than a minute,
can I feel the sharpness
of its edge the dizziness
of its centre, can I tell it
a little poem maybe try
and make it think, you
can have it back now,
it has become restless,
there is boredom in
its breath, I guess there
was a moment when I
thought it was my own …
Clay.M
the poet made his way through
the fog of memory
trying to find refuge in a phrase
that hides from him each day
each waking hour
and now
he has found it in his dreams
it reveals hazy clues
in glimpses of his past
life unfolding through back room windows
familiar faces that he met briefly
or perhaps just shared a smile
it lives within us all
and begs for our attention
the past is the sum of what we are
keep it close
allow it space
and your dreams will write the poem for you
this one wrote itself
this is the day I begin to feel old
the back is always sore
the knees are shot
the shoulder aches
my real teeth are down to four

a bout with cancer has taken its toll
but they caught it early so I shouldn't moan
what little strength that had remained
has left with my testosterone

my feet and toes are turning numb
my eyes are fading fast
it takes an act of congress now
to exercise my wrinkled ***

my memory now is headed south
it wasn't good to start
the only things I do more often
is eat, sleep and ****

but I'll be 70 come July
I really shouldn't *****
I've seen and done some crazy things
and I've yet to lose that itch!
getting old
Listen to your soul
Remember your tears
Keep the words your heart speak

These will guide you
Towards that which you need

Believe
Believe
Believe
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