Come and enjoy Higherhawk’s – HER
Day: August 3, 2018
Musician (Micro poetry)
Come listen to the music in Megha’s – MUSICIAN – Micro Poetry
Lucid Being
Old Photos
Please Don’t Miss reading Sarah’s – OLD PHOTOS!! Keep tissue handy!
“It was the way you looked at me
that left my knees weak.
I never wanted those moments to end.”
I look back at old photos of us and wonder where it all went. Back when I was smaller, freer. Open. When I could love you with abandon. Back when I would shamelessly watch your hands move, or stare at your mouth and wonder what your lips tasted like in that moment. I didn’t carry those burdens I hold like boulders on my shoulders.
I look back at old photos of us and wonder where it all went. Back when you were looking at me like I was the most gorgeous creature you’d ever seen, beautiful. Perfect. When you would take every opportunity to hold my hand or touch my skin with your fingertips, just to make sure I was real. Not a figment of your imagination. You looked at…
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Finding the Way: Day 17
Poem: Clean Sheets by Mark Tulin
Come share the joy of clean sheets and pillowcases in Mark’s – CLEAN SHEETS
He takes an afternoon nap
on clean sheets and pillowcases,
a celestial escape
The fresh smell
of laundered bedding
is where he lay,
an ordinary joy,
a priceless comfort
A middle-aged
somnolent angel
with pains and aches
giving his tired wings
a break
So peaceful
is his noonday nap
just sinking into
nothingness
on a mattress
feathered in clouds
He wonders nothing,
his worries don’t exist,
just comfort he seeks
just calm and rest
he takes.
©️mft
photo by Alice Tulin
They’re cousins
if I find a cockroach
in my kitchen it is as good as dead.
(But on the other hand)
if I were to find a cricket —
that cricket gets an instant pass.
Because a cricket can sing
& talent goes a long way as to my opinion of you
Elegy
Don’t Miss this poem about the one we need to love the most – ELEGY
The creek line along the outer wall of King’s Canyon.
Elegy For Mother
I stopped on the rise
where the trail opens to a valley,
and sat for a while admiring your view.
I took off my shoes and savoured your sand,
ran my hands down your powdery skin,
stretched my arms out in praise,
breathing you in,
taking you in memory,
sacred memory.
Purified in your creeks,
fuelled by your self-offering,
I reflect this on your paper,
in my electronica chic,
mineral products so smooth.
All that you are is
all that I am,
and all that I have.
Yet, though I valliantly try,
I have left you
exhausted,
depleted,
like a football I once kicked,
burst and rent.
Kyoto a faded vow,
my lust has consumed you
your energy spent
feeding mine.
And more than admiration,
or the faithlessness of plattitudes,
Mother,
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Be A Rebel
Be a rebel and challenge the status quo otherwise you live a life defined by others
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
THE MOONLIGHT’S REFLECTION – REPRISE
By Charles Robert Lindholm
He was a junkyard dog
wild and untamed
but his growling and barking
didn’t scare her Continue reading
The Reluctant Poet 