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 Apr 2018 wordvango
Heidi Franke
I Accept The Call

Collect call from Salt Lake County jail
If you accept,
Press 7.
Seven is a lucky number.
Not feeling lucky today
He is in jail again
For violation
Of Mental Health Court.
I accept the call.

Jail for mothers of sons
In jail, I imagine being like
Steel wombs, without the mother.

There are no pillows
No pleasant toiletries
No longer do I worry about
How long the refrigerator door
Has been open while he looks for
"Something to eat" in his bag of commissary.

There is no mama's kitchen.
No sofa to pine on.
Your laments only echoing
off cement.
What is your excuse this time
For violating the rules
At your new mothers home
You must know by now
There are no soft goodnight words
Just the stained metal
Slamming closed

May you keep your sanity
While doing your time
And remember the words
Radical acceptance
Practice balancing your
Emotional, rational
and wise mind
Maintain focus and resolve
To never, never, never give up.
I'll take that call now
I accept.
the seesaw of political smacks
sounds like fabrics by political hacks
solves none of the questions
adds diplomatic congestions
all it does is threaten attacks
 Apr 2018 wordvango
Mary-Eliz
where have all the poems gone
can't find them anywhere
where have all the poems gone
have they vaporized to air

where have all the poems gone
will no one help me look
where have all the poems gone
are they in some long closed book

where have all the poems gone
they're dying now some say
where have all the poems gone
why could they not stay

where have all the poems gone
gone to ashes
every one
where have all the poems gone
will they return when day is done

will words rise from the ashes
blow and swirl in wind
will they dance to joyous music
tingling beneath our skin

will they gather in a circle
will they place themselves just so
will they strike a chord in every heart
making poems
standing toe-to-toe

where have all the poems gone
flown off like traveling swan
where have all the poems gone
perhaps they're waltzing
with the dawn
Apologies to the author of folk song "Where Have All the Flowers Gone". Also to Greg. It didn't startout to but as it progressed it was influenced by your question of words having their own minds. :-)
the way I consider the world
as one who has rarely been heard
is through a glass darkly
no matter how sparkly
or bigly the presidents fared
 Apr 2018 wordvango
Traveler
And when I'm finally
Forced to fade
Slight of minds
No longer vague
Inconclusively
Placed on trial
Paradoxically wearing
  A black tooth smile...

Hear no evidence
Of my rebellious heart
Encipher not
My darkest art
For I have loved
And lost it all
Forgive my words
And my resolve
....
Traveler Tim

This was written with lies of truth
All my words yet nothing moot


It was in that first moment
the first time we really talked,
i felt a soul connection
but at that time, my heart i blocked.

Do you remember that moment?
As i opened up and bared to you,
i felt such a calming peace
letting you in to see that view.

It was in that first moment
when i looked deep in your eyes,
i saw my forever “home”
i felt the sweetest of love baptize.

It was in that first moment
when you reached for my hand,
as i stepped into your arms
love overflowed, deep into the land.

It was in that first moment
when your lips touched mine in kiss,
Awwww.. the sweetest of moments
i will forever love to reminisce.

It was in that first moment
as our souls connected as one,
the world slipped out from beneath me
everything i knew became undone.

It was in that first moment…..
~


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