Stephen W. Buchanan

Mixed Emotions

I thought you could,
I don’t know why,
but there you stood
watching me cry.
Not wanting to,
I wanted you
to see in me.

Sweet Little Lies

The lies you tell
smell oh, so sweet
That’s just as well
since I’m no treat
Unhappy pair
going nowhere
We made our shade

Seeing the Void

Palpitations
upon my soul
Deviations
left from the toll
of losing you
Or seeming to
in screams of dreams

~~~

Stephen W. Buchanan enjoys writing poetry, especially in the ha’sonnet form. He publishes his ha’sonnets at “If You Haven’t Got A Sonnet” and occasionally elsewhere, often with a cat on his lap. You can read his first feature on The Short of It here.

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Reblog – Poem #262 by Luna

While I hope that this piece isn’t something that resembles a past you’ve experienced but I do hope you have within you the strength to face it should it ever be encountered in your present or future. Peace.

Luna

You lost the right to miss me.
You lost the right to call my name
in your sleep or to tuck yourself in
with the memory of my body next to yours.
You lost the right to remember what’s it
like to hug me, kiss me, feel me, have me.
You never actually did have me. You had
something you wanted to have, you didn’t see
me and you didn’t know nothing but my name

You lost the right to come back into my life
to disrupt the months of progress it took to clear
my life of your memory, to stop the grieving.
I had to grow new skin, rip out the hair you played with,
fix the heart you played with, mend the glass shattered
soul you left behind and I did it by my damn self so NO
you can’t walk through that door.
You lost the…

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Ali Grimshaw

I will sing you…

with low notes strongly pure
light through dust of your worries

courage for times of cold silence
when you need the music to return

I will sing you in truth until
you remember the voice born with you.

Yet to be Seen

where blue crosses yellow
melting green, life will meet us
in colors combined

Surfaces

How is it that water
is such a crafted artist?

Consistently she reflects
the whole of light and darkness

grays blurred or glint of rose
upon watery wavering waves.

Then offers still life in contrasts
days of no wind, glasslike

surfaces smoothly reflective 
that stop me in time.

Thunderstorm Conversations

Lean into the loud
hold curiosity’s hand
consider this thundering
consider it may not mean what you thought.

This crack clashing boom 
only an illusion of danger.

Maybe it isn’t a disastrous end
but a calling of resounding strength
a breaking through from your ancestors
reverberating out across the sky,

“We are with you.”

~~~

Ali Grimshaw contributes to the world as an educator, life coach, and a poet. She is passionate about facilitating shared writing experiences and group inquiry so that others can experience a connection with their own authentic voices. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and journals including Vita Brevis, Right Hand Pointing, and Ghost City Review. You can find her writing circle offerings and her poetry on her blog at flashlight batteries.

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#TheShortofIt

Reblog – Wishing For Time to Stand Still by Penny Wilson

My heart melts every time I read this through. 🙂 So lovely. Many, I’m sure, wish to be enveloped in a love like this whether a friend, family, or romantic relationship. We all need a “someone” like that!

Penny Wilson Writes

Clock, Ladies Pocket Watch, Time, Clock Face, Pointer

You stole quietly, 
gently 
into my life. 

And captured 
my heart 
without fanfare 
or trumpets. 

Your love 
is graceful 
and eloquent. 

Your heart 
is that 
of a lion 
with the elegance 
of a tender 
kiss.  

You've taken my heart, 
and held it delicately, 
lovingly, 
in your embrace. 

In this peaceful 
retreat, 
with you, 
I will linger, 
wishing for time 
to stand still. 

Copyright (C) 2019 Penny Wilson

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Reblog – I want to dance with you by John Coyote

Enjoy the rekindling of romance in this sweet piece! 🙂

johncoyote

(Easy life and quiet death-Sir Walter Scott)

(We poets in our youth begin with gladness; but there off in the end despondency and sadness.         -Wordsworth)

I want to dance with you tonight

Sober days and nights led us to places of loneliness. Two people sharing one house with locked doors, not enough words spoken and love forgotten.

Once we were young and fearless. I couldn’t live without your kiss and your embrace. Once your voice and touch made me believe love was alive and forever. We held love like a delicious pain.

Today I watched you. Us sitting together without conversation. Cell phones and tire mind accepting life as-is. I told you, honey, dear and my pretty lady. We need to depart this grave of our home and find some song. I want you in your red dress and red shoes. I need your evil smile…

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Reblog – If You Love Her by Walt Page

What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUaxVQPohlU

For more precious love, read Ivor Steven’s piece too! https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/11/17/before-you-leave-the-table/

Walt's Writings

If You Love Her

If you love her, don’t just tell her,
Show her.

Watch the Hallmark Channel with her.

Do the laundry. Fold the clothes.
Wash and dry the dishes and put them away.

Tell her how beautiful she is. Dance with her
in the living room. Send her love songs on Facebook.

Tell her how much you appreciate all she does for you.
For your home. For your animals.

Tell her again.

Listen to her. Let your arms be a place she feels safe in.

Care about her feelings. Tell her over and over so she never forgets.

She’s the best thing that you will ever have. She will
love you if you love her.

On days when it feels like the whole
world might cave in, listen to her heart and be with her.

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2020 All Rights Reserved

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Reblog – Some poetry by John Coyote

It’s like the Benjamin Button of relationships. 🙂 Enjoy!

johncoyote

Silence


The house is silence now,
the children have left,
the silence isn’t golden my love.
——–

Loveless

Once love was needy and was demanded nightly.
Now the bed seem larger and a lonely place.
Your once sparkling eyes shine lightly now.
———
Pretty lies are still lies

Mutual needs brought us together,
we were held on by desperate words and needs.
I don’t see the need of eternal love in your tender and soft blue eyes.
In your eyes, I see the want to escape and depart our pretend paradise.
————-
Drink of me

Pretty woman whispered to me,
a pale moon light tonight and the sea is dancing peacefully.
Let’s allow the shade of love to over take us,
let’s dance and sing to the yearning moon my love.


John Castellenas/Coyote

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Reblog – Betrayal by Jayachandran Ramachandran

An amazing which goes in deep, a piece that feels like what so many things women endure….

Betrayal

She gave her soul
and her whole.

His hungry lust
groped her flesh
bit some pieces
chewed on her.

Much later
hunger satiated
he threw her out.

Her broken soul
a chewed-up
bone piece wails.

*Inspired by a Lagna Ray poem.

Reblog – Invisible ink by Candice Louisa Daquin

You’ll understand why I commented “If it were possible to get inside your brain as you write these pieces, I wouldn’t be able to finish my sentences. The passion with which you write, it’s beyond exciting, bordering on excruciating ecstasy. Someone hold me, I’m about to faint. I’m weak…” Enjoy! 😉

TheFeatheredSleep

When they say someone is driven to distraction

can’t stop thinking about …

I imagine

a woman running in the rain

newspaper overhead, painted nails

pursed lips, the crook of a smile despite

her hose getting wet, soaking her clavicle, glistening like

some jewel in a torrent might

suddenly fruit

it reminds me of the first time I heard Suzanne Vega sing

not knowing she was singing for a woman

but something in the detail caught my eye

how she felt the same hot breath, steaming glass

lost bra strap, showing slip, untucked blouse

a stray hair, falling in her eyes, it took all of my

self possession not to reach across and brush it

back into place

although I’d rather press my face

into her neck and lose myself to the sound

of rain and tempests, growing inside me

wordlessly showing her the crocheted waves

with every brush stroke

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