Reblogs – Murray Robertson & Goff James

Every decision we make and every path we take is in our hands, except the outcome. Like the seasons, we have no control over the changes that occur.

Bright October by Murray Robertson

yesterday’s flower 
at the north end 
of a sunbeam, 
 
some things  
seem never  
outdated.  
 
but yesterday’s 
sunshine has 
lost its meaning, 
 
relevance and  
excitement, 
colours fading now. 
 
as i look out the  
window, i see  
winter approach. 
 
a chill already 
blights the  
morning light. 

Turning from the past by Goff James

Ken Gierke

Milestone

Well worn,
our path together,
though not

well-traveled.
Our destination
nowhere near

the one we chose.
Where we parted,
all that remains

is a milestone
of what once was
our life together.

Reading Between the Lines

Expression

Fine lines, creases
Framing the lips
Corners of the eyes

Within those eyes
A gleam of enthusiasm
The dull shade of weariness

Regarding those lips
The glimmer of teeth
A solemn line of doubt

Impression

A gleam in the eyes
Taken for joy
Or is it anger?

Teeth shown in anger
Or is that a hint of laughter?
The lips might say

Or is it all weariness?
The answer lies in both
Behind the mask

Shorter Still

Far from brief, the time left
when viewed in the past.
A lifetime to shape a future,
with no end in sight.

Shorter now, it seems.
The slideshow of bygone images
little more than a time-lapse,
details fewer each day.

Shorter still, ahead.
The end on the horizon,
while goals slip beyond,
their time misspent, gone.

Beneath the Waves

Nearly whispering, I say,
“Every wave that ever passed over
this shell is held inside for you to hear.”

Eyes wide, you ask, “When I get bigger,
can I dive with you and hear the shells in the water?”
And so your thirst for knowledge was born.

Yours is now a world of numbers,
but you have known wizards and knights,
poetry and prose, music and art.

And, from time to time,
you still hear the waves
washing over that shell.

In the Dark

What transpires in a week? In a month?
You show a different face, revealing more, yet less.

There is a cloud hanging over you. Below,
around you. Are there secrets you would share

under different circumstances? The greater the light,
the less I know of you. Are you more open to another,

while I am left in the dark? You make no promise
I’ll see you this evening. We play this game,

you keeping your distance as I try to read you, each day
the window ever smaller, till you fade from sight, again.

Passing Madness

There’s a madness to it
this rush to color

From a blanket of green
to red
yellow

blazing orange

and, finally,
to brown

We are seasoned in this experience

And so we wait
for the return of green

Until, once again,
the madness of color
that marks the passing of the seasons

Path to Winter

golden leaves
warm light on cold day
honeyed tea

maple leaf
on path to winter
will not wait

fallen leaves
carried by river
memories

bare branches
seen in fading light
shorter days

single leaf
clinging stubbornly
winter wind

~~~

Ken Gierke has been published in The Short of It, Vita Brevis Press, Silver Birch Press, and Amethyst Review, as well as in The Moons of Autumn from Word Weaving and easing the edges: a collection of everyday miracles, from D Ellis Phelps.  His poetry blog: https://rivrvlogr.wordpress.com/ Ken also had pieces selected for the first anthology – The Sound of Brilliance.

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Reblogs – A Faded Romantic

I rarely post two pieces by the same poet, but whether recent or older, these seemed to mesh well together. They made me think that those people who are purposefully unique tend to end up being a beloved someone. 🙂

Someone

There is always 
someone 
who is our weakness 

Always someone 
who breaks through 
all our defenses. 

Always someone 
who leaves us 
breathless. 

Unique

Do not allow yourself 
to be defined 
or guided 
or labeled 
or maligned 
by your sexuality 
your age 
your birthplace 
or your race 
or the proud colour 
of your face. 

Do not allow yourself 
to be judged, measured 
or explained 
by the dead hand 
of tradition 
or by the racist misogyny 
of religion 
or by the empty 
expectations 
of others 
and what they want 
to see. 

For you 
are you 
and only you. 
Unique 
special 
beautiful 
and free. 

Reblogs – Tien Skye & The Blighters Rock

Both pieces are exquisitely short but pack brilliant messages about the things we love, enjoy, pursue, engage in, and adore. Ultimately, my point of putting these two together is that we, as individuals, decide what ecstasy is to us.

6WSP by Tien Skye

Photo by Janko Ferlic on Pexels.com

locked in a library of freedom

Oracle by The Blighters Rock

in pure ecstasy
the priestess of the serpent
gave destiny pause

Hopeful

having faith is guessing with attitude
but outcomes are always unknown
given a million and one odds
the endless possibilities the variables produce
hearts will break banking on false promises
or lives change for good on a dime
and feel everything in between

life is unpredictable
and indiscriminate
hold on for the wild ride

Reena Saxena

THE MIDAS TOUCH

I am no Midas
yet everything I touch now
acquires new meaning
Is it an artist’s vision
or a poet’s call and yearning?

LIAR MIRRORS

change seeps in
imperceptibly
entrenches
itself in
deep psyche layers
mirrors lie with the same face

PRESSED FLOWERS

memories unfold
-a pressed flower in the book
crushed before its time
I strive to read stories etched
on petals, not the pages

BEYOND THE RAINBOW

rainbows show
multiple layers,
complex truths
in seven
predefined colors
-I look for what lies beyond

~~~

Reena Saxena is a former banker, coach, and writer from Mumbai, India. Published works are available on Amazon – When Time Stopped (Fiction), Com Pen Di Um (Poetry Anthology), Life As It Happens (Poetry Anthology), Basic Banking for Debt Recovery Agents, and E-books on Money Psychology available on the MoneyGoalz website. This is Reena’s first feature on The Short of It.

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Lisa Tomey

Memories Sweet Taste

Taste the memories
Harvests after sweat and spade
Earth has its own soul

This Thing About Trees

leaves tangle in her hair
from aging trees
roots locked
in shared vibrations

spring brings growth
rings stretch the girth
age is crowned with colors
changing in time

sangria scented lips
tease in her shade
youth finds folly
yet, the wisdom
of the sage
overseer
prevails

there is no way for youth
to escape the elder court
its shadows and arms
hold all there is to know
about the beating
of the drum
of the heart

There Was A Night in Raleigh

Twinkling little lights
captured my attention
stars about the night

A celebration
clinking glasses
over charcuterie

I walked to the window
once formalities are done
I gaze downward

My eyes are drawn
to the thrift shop
on the corner

Bright lights spill
to the sidewalk
an elder struts his girth

Another day of gratitude
to make a scuff and repast
to take the flavors in

And we haven’t had dessert
but the man wrapped
in the blue blanket
sleeping on the bench
warmed to a cotton-filled dream
which was just enough to forget
the planets did not align
for him or his kind

Sprinkle, twinkle
make a fire in the barrel
warm the hearts
of humanity

Dessert is best served
to those who deserve
the sweetness
let him have mine

An Uncertain Life

he cuts through the night
with the sharpest knife he finds
from his busy mind

fast pacing his life
he stumbled over leaf piles
not noting the signs

waiting for the train
a kitten rubs against him
he shoos her away

coffee and bagel
riding the speed track subway
ready to get off

panhandler plays harp
he calls his job to check-in
stops dead in his tracks

what he heard is how
this day ends all his ventures
now he’s on his own

he sits on a bench
full of angst stares at his cell
not sure what to do

he stands up and looks
at all that surrounds him now
could he be the man

with harmonica
maybe the bagel schmear guy
how about those leaves

blowing, floating, gone
they’re no longer in his path
lost at the turning

~~~

Lisa Tomey is a poet, writer, & publisher from Raleigh, NC. She is an editor for Fine Lines and manager of the poetry circle of the Garden of Neuro Institute. Follow her on ProlificPulse.blog & ProlificPulse.com. Lisa was featured twice on The Short of It – May 2020 and October 2020. Her piece, Silence, featured in the first anthology – The Sound of Brilliance, and was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

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Reblogs – Murray Robertson & Frank J. Tassone

Seasons change, nature matures, and life continues leaving behind memories for us to recall and reflections raising concern.

Colchicum by Murray Robertson

autumn, in our 
garden is still 
a lively place 
 
things change 
as the light 
begins to fail 
 
while now, 
honey bees, 
are back 
 
and colchicum 
suddenly comes up 
(we had forgotten)  
 
from distant fires 
imported smoke 
has come again 
 
fueled by  
dry things,  
untended 
 
by some who 
do not care. 
our world burns up 
 
they think it 
is their world. 
but i don’t care 
 
whose name 
is on their deed. 
(their smoke is ours) 

il mio villaggio by Frank J. Tassone

Montebello 
a maple-lined street leading 
to the mountains 
I still listen for echoes 
of our children playing