Out by the bay
Sonja sleeps
She opens her eyes
Only to peek
At the passing cars
Or at the loud noise
Maybe it's her name
Maybe it's his voice
Then out of the blue
A man passes by
And then she pretends
To keep shut her eyes
But here I am
By the nearby palm tree, spying
I notice that Sonja is not sleeping
She's crying
Tears are of no notice to others but me
Poor sleeping Sonja
Under the tree
I can make up all sorts of stories
But I never will know
From where these tears came
To where will it go
So I sat beside Sonja
A drink in my hand
I said "Sonja, my dear
Do not cry. I know you are weary
That's why you sleep.
But know dearest that I have been watching you weep."
Sonja opened her eyes, all in a glaze
Then asked me a question
Looking away from my face
She spoke in the faintest of voices, she said, "Hal do you know who that man was, the man in the hat? If you do not know, then why do you care? You do not know me enough to despair."
"Sonja, how do I know that your name is yours? There is a meaning to actions however you don't see. Now tell me your story."
Then the man went and stood from the stool he had sat
And left with his panama hat
He did not even look our way
He said not a word, from the very start to the very end
It seemed he had made his way there
To see sleeping Sonja, that was all.
She told me of lost love
Of not wishing to sin
She told me he married
A woman he did love
But their love was new
His and Sonja's was old
Sonja had been sent to a convent
When they were in love
When she broke her vow
She thought so could he
Now he merely passes the bay
And Sonja waits patiently
I felt for her story
When would she end her waiting?
When she gets old and the sun wrinkles her skin?
Why does he keep her hoping?
Pain is a memory that we insist on remembering
Forgetting is a choice, not a flaw
How can we forgive
When we return to the past?
He must be returning the favor he thinks
And Sonja sleeps in atonement.

For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded

"I once tried to fit my head and whole body in a Pringles can, just so
someday when I die, it would be easier for them to bury me."

It was something Sonja would say.

Though I begin to forget who she is, how she likes to think, what she
likes to say and do. I am erasing her, though all we ever were is a
dancer's footprints on the beach.

We have never had a proper dance lesson. I wonder what kind of lie it
was when I thought of buying a pair of nice, soft pink ballet shoes. But
honesty runs in my blood and that's why each month I bleed for seven
days.

I am gluing the butterflies to the wall. They would glow in the dark and
do with us what the Blue Fairy do with Pinocchio.

None of us has ever lied until we found the ruby. I feel that her nose is
becoming longer, longer than ever.

It feels ethereal, like we are one but separated. Light as an angel's step. I
cannot stop thinking about the dance.

Going to the beach, while the road is still moonlit.

Tonight the sky is clear. I can hear the crickets chirp. I am forgetting
how her voice sounds, how her hair falls, how her eyes open and close. I
think it's because I might have defenestrated her.

That is how the curtain insists to stay in red.

"I want to marry my earphone."*

I wonder if it is also something Sonja would say. I only remember her
as a yellow thing, small as sprout and dead as bark. She tried a lot to
kiss some metal and cold liquids, but her lips were too unreal and her
nails would not ever grow long.

I think she fell and broke a whole skull.

It is always our dream to be the sand.

Splattered boots
stand ready, resting
from tied black laces
and muddy roads.

An attaché case
gapes too,
cwtches the photo
of a young woman
with dark wavy hair,
her unframed
forever- smile
focussed on a face
behind the camera
at the moment
the shutter clicked
and clicks and clicks

opening and closing,
packing and unloading,
staying and leaving,
making up a bed
from striped & labelled
winceyette.

Here's a tear
of tissue paper
stabbed urgently
on folded cloth
with random red stitches.

Here's the Star
of King David
pointing upwards,
locked on the blanket
by one steel safety pin.

Miss Ciano you didn't do so well
Perhaps you can help us with this cloud?
We have to tame it Miss Ciano,
Go to the mountain and immerse ourselves
Let the thunder out and let it pass

Death is all part of life Miss Ciano
The last bit
You know that
You can always sit and watch the sea
If we went to Conwy we would see the sea
In Conwy
I do enjoy your daily offerings

Love at Last ..Sonja
I remember the good times,
that we once had...
but still my life,
is oh...so sad
I try to look forward,
but my mind goes back...
because a piece of the glass,
on our portrait is cracked
I try so hard to protect the glass,
I won't let it shatter...
Because you and your love,
are all that matters
My family is all,
that means anything to me...
still...everything always
gets blamed on me
This happens to Moms,
all over the world...
we're supposed to be perfect,
we learn this as girls
I have never been great
or the "best of Moms"...
And, at times I've failed
by the things I've done wrong
For those things I am sorry,
I didn't want you to cry...
but please remember,
my eyes are not dry
I hope you can find,
our love that seems lost...
for the mistakes I have made,
came at a very high cost
A piece of my life,
is missing and gone...
And everything feels,
Oh...so wrong
But, there is one thing,
that I can do...
I will try to be strong,
just for you
One thing I feel,
down deep in my heart...
It's my love for you,
I guess that's a start
You have a new son
now growing inside...
And, I hope that you feel
each of his kicks with pride
You will feel love,
like never before...
it is your family,
you will completely adore
It's a new beginning,
you will forget the past...
It completes you as a woman,
It will be "Love at last....Sonja
By Jeannie Palma

Blue Red
The Fire flickered
I won't
Struggle in vain

Heather screamed
As they tore it out
The Raven came to the Lamp

The Antique Watch
Tick-Smack-Tock
The Golden Boys being beaten to a pulp

Make me take it
I receive the Offerings
Under the Sacred WoodTree

One, two, they jump crawl
Three, two, it comes full circle- stop!
Three more and- yes, that should do it.

I just want to break away
from the coffee mugs embrace
Break the kitchen
The heavy stone cracking
Wood having an emotional breakdown
split in half disgustingly

Hair plastered to the face from all the sweat
Animal being made again no thought whatsoever just take it take it and I beat myself into submission on your buttocks while you reach the heights of pleasure and I in my pit of self-deprecation just a line of savagery connecting us no rationalisation not now not here no, we are going to the bottom of this
in that ***** I find bliss and I forget all forget myself forget yourself remnants of feelings and memories flow up in tatters bringing phantasmagorical purple nightmares before my eyes vision is blurring so I take it out on you please, I've had enough of biology and isn't *** more than nerve endings inflamming
I might just want a slow **** and a humanity to stare at while I *** a humanity to scratch my back later opened as a flower finally an Honest is seen, I have to write like this more often, the tender and the frail that I enjoy seeing and then maybe then bringing force to it, a deeper *******, always digging deeper into thin air of our own oily brains with the women and the men and the Symbol bottle of wine and the ****-you-mother-Sonja and the whole of it is contained in that one 3am gasp at the foot of our bed you draped in honesty and want to connect nakedness I swimming in a drunken stupor thinking whether to call you a ***** or kiss you tenderly and its all contained as I've said, in that routinely disgusting brown coffee stuff I use the word 'indulge' on, just indulge in feeling You=Me, just indulge in the kiss and the nerve ending inflamming at the touch of an *** I'm not even hard just eat something and look and talk Words That You Need To Say Nothing More and then listen to the sea with its rythmic massage maybe it is just the nerve inflammation but **** me its not that bad, ey?

I am wanting to thank some very incredible people.
I also am hoping others will , also.
With that in mind I would like to list
ten poets here I feel people need to read.
My list consists of poets who are always active and generous ,
have good humor and sense.
I would like others to add their ten to my list.
And hopefully everyone eventually gets a shout out.
In the comments list ten poets you admire and would like to see
others appreciate. I will add  them to this list.
If you would like to list more feel free , the more the merrier, and the more
poets get a shout out and their name shared. I will add as many as you can type!
After all , this is goodwill and spirit and sharing and I feel good .


Vicki
Mark Cleavenger
Terry Collett
Ja
Sally Bayan
Emily Burns
Jules Winerose
Lady RF
Sukanya Sinha Roy
Valsa George
(Bill Hughes contributed the following)
Mary Winslow
Randolph L. Wilson
Elizabeth J
Bex
Ezra Warhol
my dearest reno
Wordvango
Jeff Stier
taia iverson
Dave Hewitt
Kristy Renae Dalton
(added by Eric W)
SPT
Doug Potter
Lola Park
SoulSurvivor
Inevitably Raised By Ducks
(added by Vicki)
Shawna Michele
Spygrandson
r
Woody
Pradip Chattopadhyay
SJR 1000
the seatbelt effect
Sonja Benskin Mesher
Don't Call Me Johnny
nivek
WL Winter
K Mae
Liz Balize
patty m
Pamela Rae
Sean Tierney
William Poppen
Michael Kagan
Biche
Irinia
Mikeccc
Paul Gaffney
Karina Norris Viers
Dawn
Brother Jimmy
Anthony
Phil Roberts
David Ehrgott
Jason Clarke
Angstrom
Jamadhi Verse
born
Weeping Willow
Terry Jordan
Traveler
Tonya Maria
CA Guilfoyle
elizabeth j
Grumpy Thumb
David Patrick O'C
f
(added by Sukanya Sinha Roy)
Eli N
Poetryjournal
Traveller
The Dead Sea
Zero
Nishu Mathur
James Michael Hail
Nagi
Angstorm
(Added by Sjr 1000)
Wardha
nagi
PoetryJournal
My Dystopia
Life's Jump
Bala
Nat Lipstad
Melissa
Ded Poet
Denel
Bex
Luiz Machado
(added by Jamadhi Verse)
Lora Lee
Wild is the Wind
Lalin
Akira Chen
R k
Onoma
Mydystopia
Stephanie
Stephan
Pradip :)
Karishna
(added by elizabeth j)
NB.
Lonely Soldier
Lily Mae
Thomas P Owens Sr
Sir WCA
Midnight Rain
Melissa S.
( added by Lori Jones McCaffery?
James
Kim Johanna Baker
Demonatachick
Elizabeth J
Yasaman Johari
Jean Lin
Lawrence Hall
Landon Miller
Chris Neilson
Pagan Paul
Sun Princess
Elizabeth Squires
Keith Wilson

You'll never know
How much I loved you,
How much I cared.

You'll never know
About my pain,
About my broken heart.

You'll never know
How much I cried,
Just lying on my bed
And thinking of you . . .
kissing her.
                                                                                    -Sonja

Talking about trash and vomitting i am staring at the ceiling with my dry mouth open
I slept at three and woke up at eleven
It was a sunny morning my roommate left at seven she left the curtain open and why did not she let the window break sometimes i think of jumping but standing on height makes me want to fall to bed and hide under the blanket
I don't want to bathe and eat breakfast but i kept snacking and i wish i were that sweet tooth i haven't washed the dishes and ****** and i am thinking of
Being in a plane
Heat struck and breaking the window the wind the clouds the pressure
I don't know if i am still afraid of heights
I have never been that high enough anyway like i am on the second floor it's never high enough i think of the high buildings in the capital city but i just love her too much
I will not
I will not
I will not let them read me in newspapers
I still think about methods to die but it does not make sense anymore like i want to have bullets on my head like jesus' crown but i don't want the cold thing in my mouth i don't want my head to be a blood fountain out of the blue
I am too drained even to think of running and jumping off a cliff like it's actually dumb and not pretty and i hear that we have so much to live
We have so much to live
I didn't have my breakfast
I am too okay to think this laziness as depression i cannot blame my brain it is too okay it is too okay i am too okay i shouldn't complain
Too much
Too much i complain too much

You grow flowers out of your corpse but all i want to be is to decay into plastic and harm the earth and it's true that such a sad world we live in
I am getting you back here
Sonja i am getting you back here

You are still me
You are still me
You are still me

Welcome home

morning silence
disappearing slowly
into staccato rain

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

RE: . pdf .
sonja benskin mesher

06:07

Good Morning

I wake to find the internet is fixed,
so have read the document file.

as time is short, and the fact that
it all looks very well. I did like my odd spacing,
yet the dots are there.Let us go ahead and
both have a very nice day. I thank you

for all your work on this, and at
the weekend too.

i am very pleased, a little excited.

yes shall we refer to it as the journal.
sbm.

people trapped somewhere
virtual reality
existence reduced

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

bouffant clouds
sharing blue sky
twinkling windows

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

light reflecting leaves
complement cloudy blue sky
vanishing night chills

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

above wasteland
swarming birds in sky
black smoke billows

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

frozen roots
thirst for warming
pain relief

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

advancing bright sun
in darkened sky
hope at horizon

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

shadow on my skin
passing thoughts of happiness
ephemeral life

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

kites in sky
intertwine while ascending,
heaven's hugs

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

injured souls and minds
chasing dreams not of this world
battered and lonely

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

warming sun
bright colored trees
highlights of change

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

nature's badinage:
glimmering art on wet street
bright colored rainbow

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

life's frivolities
rationality out once
protocols stifle

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

arms control balance
two eyes coordinate view
always double check

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley

no life without pain
a world pained by suffering
seasons come and go

Written by
Ute Sonja Medley