Reblog – At the Empty Homestead by Byung A. Fallgren

I fell in love with the imagery of this piece. Enjoy!!

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Hoarse call of the loon
Echoes through the veil of moon
Stir the gray images of the tents
Of the gatherers in slumber.
Some chat of the memories,
Of the aunt’s departure,
Of the uncle gone too soon,
Of the dwelling in the flame on
The insane summer night…
Too much for the cattails in the moat
To bear alone, but tonight, everyone
Chases the ghosts in their sleep.
The loon’s call has long ceased.
Couple of stars romance in the tree.
At the moat he mutters monologue,
Comes back to his tent and sobs.
Night deepens with somber remembrance.
Comes golden morning. Hustlers gather,
Followed by convivial chatter.
Laughter echoes in the
Remote homestead–bridge of
kindred spirit sneaks in ones’ heart,
the loon calls in the fog.

©Byung A. Fallgren

Arthur Rosch

pxhere.com

Dewdrops on spiderwebs:
sit lightly with life.

~~

The tree limb
from which the bird has flown
rocks in early morning light. 

~~

A solitary raindrop
at the beginning of a shower
loses itself in the pond. 

~~

The world spins like a riddle
through the space of its answer. 

~~

The beast of the cosmos staggers,
wounded by the weapon of its own life.

~~

Eclipse:  the silhouette of a leaf
surrounded by the sun’s rays.

~~~

Arthur Rosch is a writer, musician and photographer. His photography was recognized by the United Nations and his first novel, Confessions of an Honest Man, received an award by Writer’s Digest. You can find it on Amazon and his Photography at 500px Free e-book at Smashwords, The Road Has Eyes, a travel memoir. You can read Write Out Of My Head, the Blog: http://www.artrosch.com

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Joan McNerney

Poet Statement – These are all free verse short poems about my favorite season.
I call them Autumn Notes.

Four sparkling maples
sashay in autumn winds.
dressed in yellow lace.
Half moon hiding in old
oak tree on top of hillside.

~~

Children kicking up leaves
shouting while jumping
over mounds of foliage. 

~~

Bright leaves gleaming
in sunshine tumbling
through an Alice blue sky.

~~

Carpets of red, yellow, brown
foliage unfurls before us.

~~

Walking through trails of trees
becoming spellbound by
leafy giants towering over us.

~~~

Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days. Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Spectrum Publications have accepted her work. She has four Best of the Net nominations. This is her second feature on The Short of It.

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Joni Caggiano

Nature Changes 

Hearts of love hang by spider silk, painting the rust-colored leaves,
shedding old clothes as dying flowers bid goodbye to bees.
Impatient is the fall wind, causing green to intermingle with the color brown.
We are watching the movement of the last squirrels digging holes in the ground.
Kisses fall from the sky from migrating birds as they say their goodbyes.
My soul spins restless, as I imagine nature, cutting so many gorgeous ties.
Yearning as I watch this from inside our bedroom, my love, this silent picture show
Seasons together have been our treasure, our love, continuing to change and grow.
Passion like a blanket of red starlings covers us inside, as we see the shadows chill.
God is painting his earth for another season; how blessings come with his will.
Your mouth is warm, and your smile inviting, oh darling, like a flute you play me.
Blue tears fall down my cheeks, my spirit is alive, so thankful, it is I, you see.

Lost Love 

How can I begin to soothe the covers of the bed with my sad tears?
I thought we would pave a path of red stone throughout the years.

Can’t you hold me, my love, just one more time so I can see white?
Please breathe me in like you can, just for one more delicious night.

Half a person when you are not with me, I am lost in a sea of sorrow.
I cannot bear the dream or the truth of such a loveless tomorrow.

The weight of my burdens without you are just too much to bear.
Music no longer plays its notes for me, but you no longer care.

Did I forsake the waves of the sea or the love that I gave to thee?
I shall turn to liquid, for without you love, I just no longer wish to be.

When you find the puddle of orange on the floor, don’t be sad,
You gave me a glimpse of what love is like and what I have had.

If you return, place me in a jar and my light will be your beacon.
My heart will shine bright and for you, my light will never weaken.

The Lighthouse 

your song plays and tiptoes inside my loving head
erasing any static in the air, with your pleasing voice
your sound stills my watch’s long blue arms, stopping time
four months have gone since you left on a fishing boat
now only the brooding sea life is here to cry tears for me
darling, in the lighthouse, I still await for your return as
waves crash and melt upon the rocks, and icicles hang
a white bird dies as he hits the thick wall of lighthouse glass
I plant red water lilies in our tub and hum your song
inside the warmth of the water, with your voice within my heart
waiting until I become a purple lily in this garden, for I shall grow
my eyes will be still, but you will join me, and you will know
we are your song, my love,
 and in this lighthouse,
 it was always so

~~~

Joni’s blog is the-inner-child, where she has published poetry, photography, and short stories. Take a look at Joni’s work in Spillwords Press NYC, Vita Brevis Press, and The Finest Example. Her blog – The Inner Child – is an effort to give back – she is a surviving Adult Child of Alcoholics. Joni is a retired nurse and paralegal.

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Lorraine Lewis

SOOTHING THE CHAOS

In between the cracks
Love and eternity peep
Soothing the chaos

NOW I SEE CLEARLY

Soft words deceived  me
Until I saw through the mask
Now I see clearly

ALL NOW IS DYING

Leaves crunch beneath feet
As  stones cry out in anguish
All now is dying

NATURE HOLDS HER OWN

Nature holds her own
Gulls are shrieking overhead
Echoing our pain  

I TRAVEL ALONE

Journeying in death
I had to let go of you
I travel alone

HEAVING  EARTH

Heaving the earth threw
Its dark embers into play
Until shoots peeked through

~~~

My name is Lorraine Lewis. I have always written poetry but began to write more in earnest following having serious advanced blood cancer and going blind and becoming wheelchair-bound. I greatly enjoy experimenting with different forms of poetry, preferring the shorter forms. Editor’s note – This is Lorraine’s second feature on The Short of It.

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Smitha Vishwanath

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I feel you

In the breeze that blows
I feel thee, caressing me
Tender and gentle

The thing about death

Death
Dealing
is easy
So I believed
When you have seen it
behaving callously
taking remorselessly
I lost my mother at fifty
A friend at thirty, then another
You were ninety when you died; I still cried

Lessons from my grandma

You
were a
strong woman
who spoke little
You said, “A woman’s voice must not be heard.”
“To be strong you do not have to be loud.”
is what you said
to me too
I think
now

Butterfly

Flitting
bright, beautiful
speckled wings, deep blue; white tips
in the blink of an eye, flies
away

10 word story

You did not even say, ‘Goodbye,’ to me before leaving.

~~~

Smitha Vishwanath likes to call herself an accidental writer. Having worked for 20 years in banking she began writing through her blog in 2016. Her poetry has been published by SpillWords Press, Rebelle Society, Silverbirch Press, Borderless Journal among others. Her first book of poetry – Roads – A Journey with Verses was published in 2019.

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A Photographer’s Dilemma

oh, what an embarrassing moment
left my camera at home again
this incredibly perfect sight
such beauty captured with my eyes
won’t be done justice in my head
or in my memories

Image credit – Lolame @ Pixabay
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