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 May 2015 Vinay Kr
Nick Strong
Brown, to orange,
Shades of autumn
As sun weakens
The year wanes
Eerie mists swirl
Around dying hedges
Clouds skirting
A harvest moon
Dew edges to frost
Mornings chilled
Damp smell of earth
Moist on still air
I am a stranger
Of a forgotten touch
Where love once came
Now a forbidden embrace

Just a stranger
Who desired too much
Needing a heart to claim
But now, lost without a trace

Stranger in another land
With no other place to go
No arms there to hold me
Burning in a sun, all alone

A stranger who doesn't understand
Of all the things I need to know
A prisoner who is never set free
Feeling this heat, on my own
Copyright © Chris Smith 2014
pafos, Cyprus
 May 2015 Vinay Kr
Left Foot Poet
~

spontaneous men,

they say, are hard to find,
but me,
not in 100% agree
men-t
~
we, the early risers,
i.e. before she bestirs,

eyes still closed we shave,
with magic mouth wash green,
breathe dragon flames pepper-minty

go deep into planning-surprise mode,
so soon to be proving
ourselves in plenty
possession of

spontaneity

which, shockingly is just
the way she likes it...

~


P.S. Oh, what webs we weave when first we need
to get
laid...
 May 2015 Vinay Kr
Adithya Aithal
...
Roses are red, Violets are blue
I don't know poetry, so *******!
 May 2015 Vinay Kr
Nicole Corea
Love is like Russian Roulette.
Bets are on, hearts are at risk.
Whose willing to shoot?
Whose willing to die?
To lose their mind ?
Virtue lost over this foolish game?

Dice drops.
My heart is dead.
My mind is bruised.
Love is like Russian Roulette.
488

Myself was formed—a Carpenter—
An unpretending time
My Plane—and I, together wrought
Before a Builder came—

To measure our attainments—
Had we the Art of Boards
Sufficiently developed—He’d hire us
At Halves—

My Tools took Human—Faces—
The Bench, where we had toiled—
Against the Man—persuaded—
We—Temples build—I said—
 May 2015 Vinay Kr
martin challis
Along the swale
turned upside
down behind the windy-windy
capturing a moment
as keepsake
before – just before the foredune
crests in green belted
spinifexes and tail-back blooms
the salty sea shakes away
and forefront washings tide the shiny sand flat
as we marvel gambol frolic free;
liminal at the margins


MChallis © 2015
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