Final Poems

Selfish Over Selfless (S.O.S)

Trying to let go, hold close, what is mine.

Yours to hold, consoled rose, where is mine?

Create where fate and fortune misalign.

Oft told, soon find, in throws all that is mine

Time may just tell, after space mates with hell.

Heaven knows, Angels withhold, who is mine.

In passages pens pray, forged roles made

Budding chapters, foretold woes, which is mine?

One day courage great, peace and poise maintained.

And heart so bold, must impose, this is mine.

NC

 Ruins of Broughton Still waiting

As time has grown

Reaching the long arm of the Lord

Undertake short-comings

And curious downfalls

Where lowly spirits pace

Mulling, never having the opportunity

To do so from grace.

Memories shrined in concrete slabs

Citizens of a promised land, roaming the surface

Echoing thrills for a promising future, heeded in the forest. NC

Living Suicide I'd like to

Kill myself

Possessive Me

My-

Self

To recognize

Not find,

To think

beyond, not behind

An idea founded on broken self impression. I, seized

Perfect self expression

Seek decease

From a diseased brain

Torments the mind

Like pious plots

Overthrow the seat of the throne. NC

April's Fool

Compelled to think

Be without thought

Ruminating in momentous pause.

Nothing will come of nothing,

If I come walk this way-

A heavier task could not have been imposed;

Suspending time hardly shoulders the weight.

Over shoulders where we recognize mistakes,

Assuming position where hearts are often misplaced.

Still, love is too young to know what conscience is...

Never sought to enlist as soldier, but always fought in its place;

To fit the mold, overlook the cracks in the clay.

NC

Good Grief

Grief carries with it the undone

Retrofitted into new experiences

Overtly cradled by second chances

Wherewithal the bounty is lonesome;

Trusting the process, while skeptic of patience -

Holding on is letting go, in equal and opposite directions.

NC

The Trail

How quickly

The road traveled

Vines with unweeded mistakes

Brushes of secrets

Make deadly any escape.

Hollow bearings

and tattered remains,

In deed

No one would claim.

Lurking heart

Eerie judgement

Passerby fear,

Grounds for either Truth or dare

Hidden figures lament,

Paying the price where no currency is spent

And horror resides in the distance apart

Making all the difference

On the road not taken

Spotting only redress from afar.

NC

Bedside Window They waved In a somber breeze I said good- Bye to the trees that uplift me Rooted in Knowing, My shelter comes from above And feelings Shaded in, Make a body of light complete. Chastised shadows Overcast the soul window Time crystallized- Hello The hardest goodbye Residual longings left behind Evaporate you to sift through mine, Within the hourglass A turn of hand welcomes every lapse. NC

Elegy to September

The golden days of summer fade to grey,

As shadows lengthen, creeping through the trees.

The warmth of August, now so far away,

Gives way to whispers on a cooler breeze.

The leaves, once bright, now tumble to the ground,

Their colors dulled by autumn’s quiet hand.

The air grows crisp, and silence wraps around,

A prelude to the frost that claims the land.

The sun sinks lower, slower in the sky,

Its fading light a memory of fire.

And though the world prepares to say goodbye,

September lingers, filled with soft desire.

With every shiver, every falling leaf,

The echoes of the summer still remain.

But in the chill, there stirs a quiet grief—

The winter waits beyond this fleeting strain.

Sara Lando

Fog Catchers

We build frames in the mist,

thin, trembling screens

to catch what drifts unseen.

The fog rolls in—

silent, indifferent,

and we stand there waiting,

arms outstretched,

hoping to hold something

that slips through fingers like breath.

There is no rain,

no steady downpour,

just the weight of what isn’t,

the grey space between knowing and nothing.

We place our nets in the unknown,

expecting answers to gather,

to form droplets we can drink,

but all we hold is a faint dampness,

a trace of what we never had.

How much of ourselves

do we give away in the waiting?

How many questions rise like fog,

dissipating before we can speak them aloud?

Yet still we wait,

our nets straining against the void,

catching only shadows,

each droplet a whisper

of what was never there.

Sara Lando

Indentation

There is a space

in the curve of your neck

where my face fits perfectly,

like a key resting in a lock

well-worn from years of opening, closing,

each turn smooth with familiarity.

Our bodies are archives.

Your skin, soft beneath my cheek,

remembers every touch,

each small repetition,

the weight of my head finding its place

again

and again

and again,

until this hollow was made.

And again, once more.

Like the mark of a pen

on a finger

the indent formed by countless words

written without thought,

we carry these invisible traces

long after we’ve stopped.

If you could see my soul,

you’d see an imprint there too,

a hollow shaped like you,

pressed into me by the weight of your love,

by the quiet acts of being near.

A place that would always recognize you,

even in the dark.

Sara Lando

Fruit Fly

I woke in sweetness,

the air thick with ripening,

and in the sugar-drenched dawn,

I stretched my wings wide,

caught the glint of light

through a peel’s torn skin.

Do you know the color of morning?

Have you tasted time,

how it ferments

So

Fucking

Quickly?

I dance in the golden juice,

time sticking to my legs,

wings catching every shift of air.

The world hums beneath me,

its breath full of warmth and rot,

and I follow the call,

riding its scent through the hours.

It won’t last—

this sweetness, this burn of sun on skin.

I take what is offered:

the softness of fruit,

the light just before it bends.

When night comes,

I will close my wings

on the edge of it all,

my belly full,

the world still humming

in the dark.

Sara Lando

Forever They Live

It is the mortal way of life that all come to pass,

Days then grow cold and seem unnaturally long.

We grieve for our loss, we mourn for the past,

Yet lost loved ones live on in memory and song.

So do not weep because you feel that you ought.

Do not despair for those you can no longer see.

Loved ones live on in our hearts, in our thoughts.

Through love, forever they live in our memory.

• Michael Cunliffe

Sol Descending

When a human tear descends

does a star disappear

from the sky?

When a heart breaks

is there a galaxy out there –

somewhere –

a sun, a god, an angel –

that feels the very air around them

heave and shake?

Or is there nothing but cold

silent vast darkness –

all consuming – everywhere – forever –

eyes closed –

oblivious to the tiny

earth-shattering chaos

of lonely creatures

marooned on a chunk of rock

hurtling meaninglessly

through the dark reaches

of a collapsing

universe.

• Michael Cunliffe

The Teachings Of

Land And Water

A stillness, a calmness,

a resolve to remain steadfast,

a willingness to hold true,

to stand strong and bold within oneself,

to be comfortable with what is, to remain.

This is what the land teaches us.

A movement, a shifting,

an openness to seek harmony,

a willingness to change and adapt,

to flow and bend and stretch

and reach into new corners,

to find new space and shape, to become.

This is what the water teaches us.

• Michael Cunliffe

Lived

I lived.

But did I really.

Going through the motions.

Life has lost its shine

Sadness seeps into my face

I truly tried

I lived.

Babe

Every action that you take

Reflected in her sweet face

Legacy mirrored back

The Rainbow Child

Young and sweet, with so much to give, so free.

You loved a dangerous man, happiness was not to be.

Pain struck like a ton of bricks—

Your heart, shattered, never fixed.

A part of you was lost with him when your said goodbye.

Your child wasn’t supposed to die.

You buried your grief, grew a family tree.

The weight of expectation fell to me.

The eldest child, meant to atone,

For the loss you carried like a stone.

But in my heart, a question creeps

If he had lived, would I exist, the answer cuts deep.

The weight of his legacy I bear,

Longing for a mother without despair.

A bullet hides in a whiskey glass,

The ghost of him Im unable to pass.

I miss a brother I’ve never known.

I visit sometimes standing by his headstone.

I ask you instead of this the slow death,

That you'd fight to live til your last breath.

Often I think of what might have been with him here, a reality only dreamed, never known.

I’m the lucky one, alive and grown,

I never met ideals held for two, too different, too sensitive,too weird, and too wild,

But I’m yours—your rainbow child.

Sanity Slowly Slipping

How can I sleep when my mind is on fire

With ideas and vagaries and dreams?

So it is to you, dear reader, I must inquire,

How can I sleep when my mind is on fire?

My alarm will ring soon, it’s down to the wire.

Yet, I swear, there are still some moonbeams.

How can I sleep when my mind is on fire…

I’m too busy coming up with all sorts of schemes.

Genevieve Parker

Foreboding Fog

Inch by inch the world unfolds before me,

Apparitions in the mist made clear,

Figures floating by and fading just as quickly.

Impossible sounds from nowhere echo in my ears.

This place I know so well, now unfamiliar.

Amplified by the ambivalence of direction,

Waves crash too close for comfort.

Apprehensive of this mist, I retreat.

I scurry up the steps that appear before me,

Unexpectedly unsettled being here.

I return my gaze over that which is memory,

Eyes wide open, I watch it all disappear.

Genevieve Parker

Rainbow

Radiant colors from above

A reprieve from drizzle and the dark

Iridescent beams across the sky.

No shadows or gloom to remain.

Bringing Joy after a long hard spell

Only staying a short while.

When I find I need a sign your colors paint the sky's

Love All, Trust Few, Do Wrong to None

Love all, trust few, do wrong to none

Love freely, like the sun at dawn,

Spreading light, until all shadows are gone.

Every soul deserves dignity and respect

In giving make sure your own needs you do not neglect.

Trust with care, but not with ease,

For secrets are fragile, like autumn leaves.

Give your trust where it is earned,

Because betrayal is a hard lesson learned.

Do no harm with hand or word,

You can be gaurdeed and gracious without lines being blurred.

Embracing you fellow man for exactly who they are

Doesn't mean you have to let them wound you leaving a scar.

In this world of joy and pain,

Hold hands with other, but follow you own intuition as you walk down the lane.

Love all, trust few, wrong none—

And peace will follow when the day is done.

to the poets

A month of creating is harder than it seems. Learning new styles, trying new things. Pen to paper words full of dreams. Some heartaches but overall joy it brings.

A few were fails but a few more complete gold. Friends ready to read, edit, and give feedback. It isn't always about the product more the move to create.our time together is drawing to an end fading to black.

Thank you for our time together.

Proud of you for being so brave.

Your poems range from live, heartacke, to the weather. I cherish all you gave.

Love isn't always an easy venture.

He isn't always easy to love.

She isn't always so sweet.

But the flaws make it real.

Real love is messy.

Give all you've got.

Try your best,

Have faith,

Trust.

Wedding day

Today is your wedding day.

The leaves twirl and dance in breeze. Gold, orange, red, no hint of gray. Today is your wedding day. I tear up softly as your father gives you away. Heed the wisdom from others but always do as you hearts please. Today is your wedding day. What a special day amongst the trees.

It wasn't my time to go,

I had so much left to grow.

A future planned, to see the land,

But fate played a different hand.

Forget me

A single mistake, careless and swift,

My life was gone in a sudden drift.

Loved ones left to question why—

Too young, too soon, for me to die.

It feels like yesterday, yet years have flown,

Seasons passed, though I remain alone.

As dawn returns, I greet the sky,

But trapped here still, I wonder why.

The walls meant to hold me have crumbled away,

Returning to nature, no story to stay.

If I am forgotten, am I set free?

To pass to paradise, at peace I'll be.

Unfinished business now fades from view,

Nothing remains for me to do.

Goodbye, old haunt—I'll find the light,

As colors fade and all turns white.

I don't know that this one works as a final as it is inspired by someone else's work.

Reimagining of I’d Rather Overdose by HONESTAV and Z

Can't let you go. I've tried because I want to grow. You were never one to hold me close. I've always wanted your time. You've always been on the path to overdose.

I know that you could hear me cry. You didn't try to comfort and I don't know why. Cried till my eyes ran dry. You were too busy getting high.

Can't let you go. Tried because I want to grow. You're never been one to hold me close. I've always wanted your time. You've always been on the path overdose.

I can't slow down. Don't know how.

I'm going to do it all somehow.

fill the walls with accolades that are worthless.

I'm supposed to feel accomplished but it just causes stress.

Here I am still a mess up.

I want your praise though I'm grown up.

Can't let you go. I tried because I want to grow. You've never been one to hold me close. I've always wanted your time. You've always been on a path to overdose.

Sometimes I wonder if you hate me. Sometimes I hate me too. All I've ever wanted was to be loved by you. All the things I went through. Take care of it myself is what I had to do .

Can't let you go. I've tried because I want to grow. You've never been one to hold me close. I've always wanted your time. You've always been on a path to overdose.

I hold on cuz I know one day you will pass away. But I'll still see you every time I see my own face. I wish our home had been a happy place. I'll grieve but not ready to say goodbye today.

Summer day

Shining bright in the summer sun,

She is all sparkles and shimmer

Swaying and swishing to a sing song tune

Soft breezes introduce the subtilty sweet scented the air

Satisfaction of a sensational summer day

Lost

A bit of terror is creeping in.

I fear Iay be lost.

It is cold and damp.

The ground is covered in frost.

The snow is starting to fall

The sun sets and it fades to night

I look upwards and say I'm can't do this on my own

And just like that, in the distance I see a light.

They come closer lantern aglow.

They say sometimes all you need to do is pray.

I just here to walk beside you.

You know the way.

We walk a bit and crest a hill.

Houses with heaths welcoming and warm.

It was so close but felt so far.

I am safe now from the storm.

Finding Her Way Back Home

Winds spinning confusing seasons

enticing shadowed back roads

winding offbeat tracks

lacking guiding, grounding principles

My eyes

looking down puddles reflecting

foggy impression of what I should be

Holding tight

torrential flash downpour

spring last night

Summers burning hotter

perfect shade welcoming

reminiscing, laughter

Rich flamboyant erotic reds wanting to come

muted orange hues entice internal spice

yet, vibrant shocking mellowed yellow

soothe my overthinking mind

Full circle round

allowing us to cuddle tight

hibernate together all winter found.

~C.L.A.S

Title: Good with Evil

With the touch of unknown cursed blessings, humans rise like the dead of the future to come as they crawl across the land, scourge upon the forests of the gods untouched to view their use in the task of building the world into a good that will overcome the beasts that dwell upon the claimed world ungiven but owned by rights of the good for all who are worthy, decided with eyes glazed with the lust of power over all seen before them, power granted in acts of cruel, power granted for claims of good in a world yet to be tamed.

Through the claims of good, evil comes with its fist of steel, wood, and stone as man tortures the world to break its will, its body into one that suits their for the purpose of good, as though the world has no use but to give its body over to be raped by the mines of progress and the butches by the cleavers hungry to feed the never ceasing jaws of civilization, screaming with howling winds of pain, struggling with mighty waves crash against rigs of steel, quaking with the rolling torment of a body trying to extinguish the flames of progress, as the human disease persists in its acts of good.

Quiet rings through the world's empty peace as the axes of past rang for centuries with their mutilating blows no more swung in these lands now scatted with the bleached bones of disease no more, as scorched grounds green with new life's scabs grow new flesh of a world now pure with skies washed with rains for time unknown as waters flow with the memories of battles lost and won, with the passing moon life anew crawls from scares healed over sun's cycle of care the world breathes life free of civilizations good.

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: Somewhere We Wait

I know I love you…

or I will love you once I have found you

because I know you are somewhere and waiting in knowing like I am.

Months of loss

Years of longing

Decades of love.

I hold no faith of a god in my heart

only the faith of your existence in the world

prayers to be heard in your dreams as I hear yours in mine.

Even if death finds me before we find each other

I will go content and happy because you are there

somewhere.

In this world we wait.

Your gentle breath in wind's touch.

Whisper our love notes.

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: Hidden Words

In expectations of life

not all words exist

hiding knowing from my soul.

Existence in nonexistence

in the words unsaid

to erase what has always been.

You try to hide me

hide my people

by hiding the words of existence.

I still move forward

strength build carrying the weight

of our expectations.

Without words

I found the path forward

through your minefields and attacks

With scarred fingers

we dig ourselves to the surface

after you buried us.

In your hiding us

we found ourselves

in those hidden before us.

You made us strong

when you pushed us together

we found community.

I have learned

your hidden words

I speak them loud with my people.

Those that come

next into this world

will hear the words I speak.

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: Because of You

You.

Because.

Before now.

Fear didn't come.

Life was easy then.

Now you lie against me.

You make me want to cause pain.

Tense with fear of what I am now.

A monster crawls slow under my skin.

Your heat on my skin makes me want to kill.

I had no fear before your love found me.

Fear comes while you sleep in this dark world.

True love made a monster of me.

I'm here for you, to love you.

One soul in two bodies.

Time silent hunter.

Hunter unseen.

Fear persists.

I love.

You.

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: Repeating Circle

It all repeats through history, like the circle of life, but few seem to see.

Blind by choice, not even willing to try.

Until it is their turn. Then they see it, like the point of a needle placed against the eye, too late. It's happening again.

The past is easy to see while it is close, but time makes it grow foggy, romanticization painting its beauty over the truth as time moves forward.

The world spins as though nothing is wrong. Nothing has changed, as the cosmos knows no surprise.

But we are not so lucky. As this circle continues, we are the only out-of-place things upon this world.

There is always a way, always some path forward.

Even through the fog and romanticization of time, the truth is there; if one tries, they can see.

If you look, eyes open to the repeating circle, you will be struck down by your past with surprise.

For only then will you have the true choice to know or forget, to see your chance to try.

With the truth in hand, paths will be seen through the world.

The circle will never stop. It will repeat again and again.

Paths chosen, eyes open to truth, but with time, history repeats again.

Fights don't stop with progression towards something new; bloodied and broken is the way forward.

With blade and bow, we beat the drums of war for a better world.

Through the reddened waters and smoke of death, visions come, and we see.

This is when change, the new world comes, and death comes as they try.

The circle repeats, and it comes as the people look at the presents of their past in surprise.

Every generation circles back to history, and when it comes, every generation stares in surprise.

Everytime things come around the same hollowed words ring out of, "never again."

As fresh eyes look across the world with repeated new sight and power presents itself, those hungry for it once again try.

Normal life continues as the circling fog floats in with the new day. Self-bloodied eyes happily look forward.

Life is once again beautiful and peaceful as dead eyes no longer see.

Walking the circle's path, soft with the rot that can't be seen in a peaceful world.

Life continues, trees grow, animals evolve, rain comes, life moves within the world.

Things move on outside of the human circle without false surprise.

Outside the circle, the world looks into the repeat as they see.

The trees, flowers, and grass look on as they have for centuries as it happens again.

The bats, birds, and moths look down at the circle like a maze, seeing the simple way forward.

The world moves around us, the circle our cage as we try.

No matter the circle and the outcome, some will always try.

With the repeat of all things there is something holding our unnatural existence to this world.

Through black and death, even blind, the desire is always forward.

The persistence of life through the circle is always a surprise.

As the circle continues, some ask if there will ever be a true "never again."

Sacrifices of your own flesh for the change to help others see.

If you look on without surprise, you might not circle again.

To be part of the world and feel the ground as you move forward.

With the birds you see and the trees, there is hope to try.

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: Who it Left.

This blackened bog swallows me bit by bit.

I am enveloped slowly.

Grasping the pieces of my soul

Wet hands slip.

Compassion and forgiveness

I no longer remember.

Empathy is just out of my grasp.

The bog's persistence of gravity never rests.

Cold wind.

Dark clouds.

Hope slips away.

What will I become?

Author: Gallagher Green

Title: My Unexpected Cure.

1

I was lost…

I told myself that the six months the doctors gave me to live would not be wasted. That I would not be mourned while I was still alive.

But that was just my mind grasping for a reason, for a hope that my soul knew was already lost.

But then I saw you, I saw you and remembered you were my hero I never even spoke a word to.

That I never acknowledged you because of the fear that the world around me would crumble.

That I would become all the parts of you that were lost.

Then I remembered my world had already crumbled.

Then I remembered that I was already lost to this world.

Lost, but my heart kept beating.

Lost but not beyond the grasp.

Of you.

Of the love you didn't know you had.

Caution thrown into the wind as I went after you because you were the person my soul knew I needed, the person I knew would make my meager six months worth living.

Caution thrown into the wind because you were the person who needed me. Even though you couldn't see it, your soul could.

We were lost pieces finding each other, drawn together. Two broken pieces fitting together, but not perfectly because things can never be unbroken.

We are still lost in this world of cruel, unforgiving gods, but we are lost together, and being lost with you makes being lost home.

Told home was a location on a map they world lied to me, but they didn't know.

Told it wasn't normal no longer held me back from finding my home in your arms.

2

Like someone left the faucet on I feel my energy dripping out of me.

Like someone forgot to tie an artery, I feel life bleeding from me.

But when I am weak, you are there to hold me.

But when I am weak, I sometimes lie because I know you need to be held but won't ask.

Why don't you tell me when you are weak?

Why didn't you tell me you never learned how to be weak?

Because you can be weak with me, you should know this.

Because you can be anything you want with me, you know I love you.

I love you… I don't know when we first said this. I don't even know which of us said it first because it was just a breath… it was just breathing.

I love you.

Life is growing short, and I mean faster than normal.

Life is growing darker when I close my eyes, and I mean a dark that isn't the normal darkness. It's a darkness that doesn't want to let go in the morning.

I tell everyone that I am not scared.

I tell everyone that I have accepted the fate of my short life, and I am fine with it.

But I am terrified that I won't wake up, that darkness just won't let go of me, and I will lie in a fate of eternal darkness alone with nothing and no one.

But you were there and showed me the darkness you hide within your body, a darkness that scares and waits, held at bay by promises you made but never understood.

You held me as I screamed in the rain of a forest, knowing that I was not fine, that I was lying to myself and everyone else.

You held me as we sobbed on the muddy forest floor as you took on my pain in ways no one else could or would.

We became one as we walked through the forest.

We became one as the rain washed us clean, and the forest absorbed and purified us.

3

I sit at the piano, fingers sliding over the keys that are my unsaid words.

I sit at the piano, my third leg leaning against the bench.

Third leg is what my dad decided to call it.

Third leg is easier for him to say because saying his little girl needs a cane is something he can't do yet.

But it will never change because change takes time.

But time is something I am almost out of, so I will die with a third leg.

You, my love, are the one who sees me as I am.

You see me as capable and incapable, strong and weak, living, yet not for much longer.

They don't see me like that.

They all see me as something that can be preserved with the absence of life because I might live without life, like a bird in a cage, safe from the world.

I have you, though. And where others hold me back, you carry me.

I have you next to me no matter how bad it is, how bad it hurts. Which it now does...

It's a pain the bite of a needle takes away for a while.

It's a pain crawling across my skin, waiting for the morphine to leave an opening for it to slip into my body once again.

The only bad thing about the pain is I know it hurts you more than it can ever hurt me because I can see the pain in you the same way you see it in me.

The only bad thing about being one soul in two bodies is I hurt you, and I never wanted to hurt you.

Mornings are all the same until they aren't.

Mornings are all the same until a bodiless whisper tells you it's your last morning.

Doctors know all when they tell you that you have only six months left, not even enough time to see nineteen.

Doctors know all until they don't, and six months comes faster than the calendar shows.

Pipedreams are supposed to be the impossible of life. They are supposed to be unicorns, private islands with castles, and the imagination running free.

Pipedreams aren't supposed to be a house, a yard with a dog, kids, and you by my side as we just live.

But life didn't give me options.

But life gave me you.

A woman I thought I would never have the courage to speak with.

A woman I have lost myself to.

People pray for a non-existent cure for what is destroying my body.

People with prayers never understood what mattered and what I needed a cure for.

I lie next to you, my love.

I lie next to you for the last time, my soul.

Breathing against you, I find you as my eyes drift shut.

Breathing against you, I feel you breathe against me.

Loneliness was the fear that has always spread through me, the disease that ate at me first.

Loneliness was what I wanted to be saved from the most.

The prayers worked, the prayers were answered.

The prayers brought me you, my love, my soul.

Fear and loneliness dissipate like fog in the bright sunlight.

Fear and loneliness dissipate with you next to me.

You are what I never expected could happen, would happen.

You are my love, my soul, my cure…

Author: Gallagher Green

Diving In

Mind races as the butterflies have escaped my stomach, 

filling every inch of my chest. 

A barely contained bundle of nerves stifled in my throat. 

Heart beating so fast it feels like a shudder. 

Body buzzing on a subatomic level. 

Standing here excitement and fear don’t feel that different. 

Unclear if it even matters anymore. 

Barely balanced, feeling free. 

Fully trusting something will catch me. 

Remember when your fearlessness was your strength. 

When that abandon only came with a few small bruises. 

Not to be reckless,

Yet, I let my balance teeter. 

Compelled by curiosity, 

I surrender to the pull. 

For the briefest of moments 

time 

      stretches 

         towards 

         eternity. 

And from here, the view is beautiful. 

Genevieve Parker

Creative Crossroads

Standing still at a creative crossroads,

Big breath

forever failing forward,

It’s a fantastic feeling, this happy hope.

Pathways part and return repeatedly,

Abundant adventures await just ahead.

Choices carry consequence, not conclusion

Fanning flames of freedoms found.

Pernicious paralyzing ponderings paused.

Stopped.

Ideas and inspiration impel me –

To make mistakes, make memories,

make a mess. To consciously create.

Genevieve Parker

Pancake Tacos

My son made pancakes for brunch,

cooked in slightly too much oil.

On the outside a crispy crunch,

a little gooey on the inside –

a bit slippery. He cooked a side

of bacon in the leftover pan grease.

I was hungover and grateful for a feast

that I did not cook myself.

I mashed a whole avocado

and stuffed this weary self

on pancake tacos dripping

with maple syrup. A ripping

feed! Smiles and stomach aches

are made of moments such as these – awake

to life’s sweet treasures wrapped

around a salty cured meat

of naught but pure happiness.

• Michael Cunliffe

Day on the lake

Water laps the shore

Rhythmic bliss and soul southing

I come here to dream

Grief comes in waves

Washed out colours of sun faded plastic flowers

are all that welcome me here at your grave.

Flowers once full of life and lustre now wilt

lacking in the freshness of the life you gave.

Wilted Memories reach through time to smile

stirring bittersweet emotions not felt for awhile. 

I made some minor tweeks that left me happier with it thanks to feed back from Genevieve. Retoxant

Retoxant

[ ri-toks-ænt] Phonetic (Standard)

/ rɪˈˌtɒks ænt / IPA

noun

1 A person, though missed, is known to be toxic.

2 Someone who will wreak havoc on another's life.

3 The one who left me lost and reeling.

4 That potential they have to turn a world upside down.

No matter how fond memories of her are, it is best she is gone.

She will alway be retoxant.

Other Forms

Retoxable adjective

Retoxability Retoxableness noun

Retoxably adverb

Lost and found

For most of my life I have felt quite solitary and alone.

The sound of laughter of others to my ears, the wind had blown

A hand extended, kind words, and invitation to play

A bit of sunshine on a life otherwise gray

A sad child feeling alone, a simple gesture shown, friendship known. 

Lone Tree

I never knew my mother well—only her love, all I know,

A fleeting memory of effort and a past long laid low.

My siblings and I were scattered, drifting with the breeze,

Not all of us survived the journey; some chose roots, some a life of ease.

Some clung together tightly, forming close-knit groups with grace,

Some found solace in the city, others in a suburban place.

I chose solitude, alone with soil and sky to call my own,

I grew strong in isolation, where the seeds of life were sown.

In spring's warm embrace, I wore a frock of white so bright,

Little specks would dance upon the breeze as day turned into night.

As summer’s heat bore down, I shed my dress with ease,

And basked beneath the sun, relishing the warmth, the gentle breeze.

Autumn came with crispness, draping me in fiery hue,

A formal gown of vibrant red, though heavy, felt so new.

I shed a few layers, feeling lighter, in this changing light,

Friends would visit, seeking rest, enjoying the cooling night.

When winter’s chill arrived, I wrapped myself in snowy white,

A heavy blanket cocooned me, sheltering through the night.

The wind may howl, but I am deep in sleep's embrace.

But in dreams, a song would find me, bringing warmth to this place.

Start

No need to rush

pick up the brush

first attempt the hardest part

in good time you'll create good art!!

Where I'd rather be

A delight to sight the crimson form of a soaring kite

swimming high above rooftop reefs in an aqua sky,

upon waves of wind bobbing up and down in flight.

Freedom found drifting over weedy fields excite,

movements of dance and play captivate and mystify.

A delight to sight the crimson form of a soaring kite

An anglers clash, a fight with lines pulled tight.

A reluctant dance ebbing away in attempts to fly

upon waves of wind bobbing up and down in flight.

Flirting with heaven, reaching unfathomable height

the sun starts to blush and tries to hide, turning shy.

A delight to sight the crimson form of a soaring kite.

As light fades, out comes a star speckled night

forcing schools of birds home to bid goodbye

upon waves of wind bobbing up and down in flight.

Against evenings vail, meander clouds of white

gazing down upon earths bed, a curiosity they spy,

a delight to sight the crimson form of a soaring kite

upon waves of wind bobbing up and down in flight

This villanelle came about trapped in the office one quiet day, bored and looking out the window as clouds moved across the sky like waves approaching shore. I decided to play with the image of a kite, like a fish, how both drift across a vast blue backdrop.

Title: RGB

Just another RGB,

A mass of red, green, and blue pixels pretending to be you.

Like the picturesque tree in the meadow on my screen, you are made of a million microscopic lies to convince me it's all okay.

I have accepted this world of RGB lies,

I have accepted this mass of RGB is here like a medication that makes us happy.

I have accepted existence is now proven in RGB because the physical no longer counts.

The pictures crossing my screen,

They don't show memories,

They don't show past happiness,

They don't show my hopes or dreams,

They don't show you because you're...

Just another RGB.

Author: Gallagher Green

'A Portrait Of An Artist As An Older Man'

I look at the painting on the wall

The one depicting a Roman God of war

His face is in the shadows

An image that whispers a loss of power

Stood in front of the picture

For a moment, I consider

How I'm an older man

But with that comes wisdom -

A memory deployed

At a point when others are devoid

And the spirit is not deflated

As the figure stands, alone, contemplative

I look him straight in the eye -

"I want you see who 'you' are"

His eyes are fixed

Assured and brisk

As a flash of sunshine is rendered

Onto the front of my right foot

And I feel coiled inside

As I dig deep, into the peat of my life

And suddenly, qualities/find their way into the painting

Connecting the senses

Expressing one's heart

That is as ardent

And as fervent

As one's art

© Richard C. Bower

Today at work I jotted a line down that I thought would be nice to turn into a full poem, a little juxtiposed image. Then while cooking dinner and catching up on this mornings live stream, the talk on tanka pieced my image together for me. So here it is; I do not adult

in a responsible way

like others my age, 

though I know how to adult

in a biblical fashion.

How I See You

In the first light of a pastel sky -

swirls of baby blue and cotton candy pink

periwinkle and glooming peach - you're there

sitting alone on the park bench, waiting

Waiting for some prince to pass by

or at the very least, a foot soldier

A hero to take you away - whisked

off your feet - from this mess of life

A life of disappointments and sacrifice

too much give and very little take

for taking means freedom and solidarity -

foreign words in your limited vocabulary

But this is not how I see you - strength

stronger than you've ever been given credit

or even credited yourself - passionate

flooding the world with crimson and amber

Your generosity should never be unmet

but held sacred, celebrated, honored -

Your laughter should be met with joy

not taken as a sign of mental collapse

If you could but take that first step

rise from that bench, claim your destiny

and realize you need a heroine, not a hero -

you'd see what I see - your savior is you

©2024 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.