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 Jun 2018 dina
Solaces
In the night blooms the flowers..
Unseen by sunlight..
Shadows dance in the pale moonlight..
Blooming pedal's dusk towers..

In the chamber on the sea mountain side..
Flame burns sky blue...
Wooden floor kissed with golden sand..
The dreamers arrive soon..

The flower colors in the moonlight..
Mixed in with glowing silver rays..
Can't tell if they are blue or maybe a dark gray..
Soon the sun will award true color from the dying night..

The dreamers gather in the chamber by the sea..
They form a lighthouse of imaginations and dreams..
For the mind eye to open and see..
That the stars above are really part of you and me...
I saw a light house in a dream.. Created by other dreamers like me..
 Jun 2018 dina
Edmund black
She
        Shouldn’t

Be

           Mine

But

        I’m

Glad

              She

Chose

              Me
She doesn’t need me, but she wants me, And she chose me
 Jun 2018 dina
beth fwoah dream
what horizons await us, what skies fasten
to the bright ambers of our dreaming bones?

our love, water trickling over
a pebble in a stream,

the whoosh of  
leaves and a shadow in the dark,

the ghost of a poem
written in a dream,

the splendour of the tide,

both everything and
nothing,

our love neither a poem or a sigh,
all the winds battling,

spring's blue moon waiting near the
water for one slow ripple to reach
out.
 Jun 2018 dina
harlon rivers
I saw the sun steep
into the seascape ―
lonely as a drowning
    wave
         on still-waters

the dimming of the day
rescinding evanescent daylight                                                         ­         .
fading with the slack tide
         lost at sea ―
a gloaming moment
         let fall from
the remains of the day,
like some other passing
sea bird's molted feather
drifts away untamed

I sit silent as the driftwood
lingering at the watermark,
watching a random gust
    erase the footprints
of another recurring day, 
bearing abandoned memories
    and vacant heartbeats,
atrophied in the drifting sands

    and I see you walking
    towards the abating  
    midnight sunset ―
         but I know
    you're just a mirage;    
like the dimming afterglow
of so many waning moons
            elapsed
         
ever-changing tides grow low  
and promises made lightly  
         do ebb away
          
Scanning the distant horizon ―    
    a blindfold heart    
    mooning all at sea;
parsing a deserted shoreline,
    wondering if love
          is too late ,..
    to stem the tide ―


        harlon rivers

      30   May   2018
Note:   apologies for the inconsistent reading, posts and replies.  Internet access comes and goes out here off the grid.   Thank you for taking a look through the words― h.a. rivers

Chronological TRAVELOGUE collection:
9 of some more here; published & unlisted

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/27104/travelogue/
                                                                                                                     .
 Jun 2018 dina
Marie Christine
Phone
 Jun 2018 dina
Marie Christine
I wake up
Check my phone
There are no texts/calls/notifications

My sister wakes up
Checks her phone
She has to scroll down to see
All her messages

It is lunch break
I check my phone
There are no texts/calls/notifications

Sometimes my phone
Made for social acceptance
And interaction
Makes me more lonely
And it shows me that I am alone

I go to bed
I check my phone
I am alone
 Jun 2018 dina
Seán Mac Falls
.
Hovers over petals
Itching to dive, drop
Divine into essences
Of live colour, scents
Of creation, breathing
In the motion swirls,
Stemmed skywards,
Genitalia of rainbows
End.  

Honey Bee catches
Nectar dripping out airs
And steels away to hive,
Beelines to comb, where
Amber ****** becomes
What Gods sleepily crave,
Sniffed sweets of ambrosia,
Borne in the queer fluctuations
Of tiny wings, firing up vibrations.
.
 Jun 2018 dina
Sally A Bayan
Painter
 Jun 2018 dina
Sally A Bayan
No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017
A pleasant sound
Let the music touch your soul
Of a euphoric nature
The rhythm is taking control
Let it put the mind at ease
And relieve the stress
Peaceful and serene
In order for you to do your best
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