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 Feb 2023 rose hopkins
Eloisa
Bare
 Feb 2023 rose hopkins
Eloisa
Bare and bruised,
she visited the woods.
Stripped of joy and comfort,
she slowly trudged through her usual path to talk to the trees.
With stretched and open arms
they listened to her
perpetual wail.
Her vision blurry.
Her voice unclear.
The tears have yet to dry.
The grief’s still there to stay.
Then rays of magical light dappled through the trees.
Scattering glitters to the tiny green buds of her favorite sakura trees.
Shining through her heart,
a tiny corner of herself
that’s still her own.
Her sanctuary of patience and strength,
An important refuge that continues to love.
Komorebi: Sunshine filtering through the trees.
The scattered light that filters through when sunlight shines through trees”. It is made up of three “Kanji”
Ki= “tree” or “trees”
Kagayaku= “shine -through” or “escape”Taiyo= “sun”.
A harp that needs no fingers
no hand to pluck the strings
it speaks of love’s betrayal
and ****** when it sings
Apprehension made you pause
To study the attrition clause,
Ascertain the forward path,
Condescend to actually ask....
Condescend to feel the heat
Of the artwork at your feet.

M@Foxglove,Taranaki NZ
Quietly, lightly

This path I wrote
wrought
with missed
twists and turns
and trip wires
made of pit
vipers camouflaged
in ****** stripes
the color
of Bumble Bees
that make me
pale
humbly I ask
help
me please
I hear foot steps
quietly, lightly
on the trail
close
behind me.

Ledge
 Feb 2023 rose hopkins
Gabrielle
There are cats in all my dreams,
And I don't know why

Cause I don’t dream of tuna
Or mice or flies

They sit on windows,
Waltz through halls

Stare from the ground when I fly
Nudge my knees when I’m naked at the ball

Watch as I drown in honey
Paw at the bugs crawling up my arms

Sit on my lap as the plane goes down
Chirp along to the fire alarms

Do cats run out of dreams when they sleep?
And so wander into other people’s?

Is that why, when I wake up,
My cat always kisses my temples
begging for paper crumbs
and then becomes
smaller upon the feast.
This woman's a beast.

Never that girl
spreading her petals  
and then settles for less.
This woman stands for success.

Never that girl
weeping over him
climbing out on a limb.
Not ever seen.
This woman's a queen.

Never that girl
broken in pieces,
flushed down as faeces.
As the Pheonix she'll rise.
This woman's a prize.
 Jan 2023 rose hopkins
Aditya Roy
Beauty encapsulated in brief time
Time left at forlorn bay
Not enough to say
Except it was a beautiful day
To be alive
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