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jana

SOULFOOD ~ the poetry thread

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dry leaf underfoot

my heart breaks along its

cracked spine.

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Guest Oggi

real life off kilter

do I stay or do I go?

fake job to real? yikes :duck:

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Guest Oggi

poetry weekend

country singer duets with

poet laureate

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good god

 

he sits

benevolently pot-bellied

promising me

care-free, success-filled seven day weeks

52 weeks a year

and asks nothing in exchange

from me,

even though there are others

walking barefoot

to his fortress temple

and those who send email offerings

with pleading wishes.

i do nothing.

sometimes i smile.

he does nothing either.

his promises have no fulfilment clauses.

we have an equal relationship,

me and

my desktop ganesha.

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Bus Station / April

 

a timid moon's reflection

trembling

in a shallow puddle

where the pale sky

is giving up its blue

 

spring is having

second thoughts

pressing winter

for yet another encore

 

only the westwind

eternally enthusiastic

insists on pushing

one more brass-rimmed cloud

across the sky

before nightfall

 

spring

maybe tomorrow

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Guest Sue

fingers of sun-light

dancing in my coffee cup

rejuvenation

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Guest Sue

if music is canned

do poems come in tins? and

is boxing an art?

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Guest Sue

like Pandora's box,

life is full of surprises;

smorgas-board of fate.

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water runs down

steady, wavering lines.

the car stops at red lights.

glass turns indistinct.

the gazes on the other side

look up at the cloudy sky.

a rainbow reflects

in a large puddle.

she will cry

only so long

as it rains.

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Guest Sue

heat which sears the brain

numbs the senses and fries the soul

bring on the rainfall

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Grey sky falling down

Drowning fields spilling over;

Rivers rise. Autumn.

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A knifeblade of chill air

Slides through the doorframe, prising

The lid off my small jar of warmth.

The scent of coffee, rising from the mug

Slips away, an icy draught

Spilling over my feet.

Dank grey skies hang low and drip

A percolated melancholy

On the streets below.

The steam from the kettle forms a small cloud

And rains down the windowpane.

 

I have to heat this damn office.

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Guest Sue

grey, steamy windows

another solitaire game

rainy day lunchtime

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Guest Eve

I've been down this road before

the sights and sounds and smells

overwhelmingly familiar

I'm trying to find my friend

she lives here .. somewhere.

She's given up on me..

I haven't.

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north wind night

 

the old chestnut

leafless

black lace against

marbled blue and white

moonbright silk

slipping silently

down from the north

the roll

seemingly endless

endlessly changing

then

it rips

revealing eastern grey

morning

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