In AutumnWhen the wind wends back my way,In Autumn by ~slyfry
Scented as it is in such gloom,
I will taste the shallow graves
And be subjected to the specter's loom,
In autumn when the leaves die—
Falling off to rest to rot.
ColossusThe colossus stands still,Colossus by ~slyfry
Subjected to ocean's crisp breath—
The harsh harbor winds.
Like Helios once in Rhodes,
Inevitably, one day she'll crumble.
Yet, Libertas will always linger,
As all chains will one day break—
The colossus stands still…
Springfield, MO1991Springfield, MO by ~RussianTim
In my father's house there are many rooms
(Only one gun cabinet)
A cross hung over my grandmother's
bedroom door for thirty two years
Her phone rang late on a Saturday night
She was the last person he called…
The sun rose early the next morning
The cross was taken down
heavy shadesreality is holding my coward eyesheavy shades by *LancelotPrice
open wide with clamps of steel
I wear the heavy shades
the ones you need in Florida
or Himalayan snows
and yet my coward retinas burn
those hateful patterns
decay and death on the movie screens of mind
how I wish for selective blindness without consequence
how I wish for faultless folly
how I wish I could hold my head up high again
OceanographyThe cloud in the sky looks like an ocean.Oceanography by ~bluecurse60
There is a catfish in that ocean,
His eyes are time
and his whiskers are place,
He doesn't drift in a circle
like decaying carp corpses
and he doesn't fall behind
like bloodied baby minnows
who were denied spirit and soul.
The catfish has sharp teeth
which could become like the shark
the soldier of war
who are hated or loved
depending on where they swim.
The catfish has an elegant tail
fragile or easily lamed either
by chance
by change
or by challenge.
Catfish come in many kinds
and can become many kinds
or remain the same,
As long as the continue moving
away from the decaying
NAPOWRIMO 14RawNAPOWRIMO 14 by ~ozzla
The bird cried every night for light to raise and warm a day
left frozen, cold, the dread crept in like smoke. Unknown to me
your feathers ruffled, specked in frost, your eyes they did campaign
a sadness of sapph're hue that so loudly cried "convene!"
Convene! But how are shadows stripped from souls when beauty such
as yours is from your raven hair, as if a starless night?
Will wild cries turn soundless as a dove's without a touch
of chaos strong in hands that plot upon my face your plight?
Deep thoughts are not my strength though even I can see this clear:
to prune your blackened grief is like a rose without its thorns
to chase away it
Sta.sh
