Daily Archives: May 26, 2012

14 posts

“A Phantom Greeting” by Ted Aronis

Had we met years ago
Who's to say where our lives would go
but for lack of a chance meeting
we never had the opportunity to know

But, coffee conversations and morning hellos
leave me wondering about time and its flows
but for the lack of a chance meeting
the ebbs and flow of time so fleeting

If time were not linear and loop back on itself
who knows if the same track would rewind
who knows what would’ve come had we met
some years ago, in some other time

not that we are dissatisfied with our lives as they stand
an opportunity for wondering shows itself at hand
why not craft a fiction and some pretend land
a timeless fantasy, harmless, in awe we stand

But, I'll settle for your friendship and wonder
wonder about what could have been
but for the lack of that chance meeting
Dreams and musing of that phantom greeting

“I Know Not…” by Shipra R. Upadhyay

I know not...
The sky appears so elegant
For the stars has coated it with their glint
Or by virtue of being sky, I know not...
The stars appears so placid
For the attendance of moon
Or by virtue of being stars, I know not...
Dazzling is the Firefly sparkle
For the darkness of the night
Or by virtue of being firefly, I know not...
The earth’s lap appears so pretty and pious
For the melody you sprinkled joyously
Or by virtue of joy within me, I know not...

“If All the World was Blind” by Katie M.

If all the world was blind,
It'd be easier to see
The beauty of our love,
And not the animosity.

Our souls, we'd keep as one,
And disregard the divide.
No one should ever feel lonely,
Nor should they choose to hide.

Judgement based on heart
And not on how we appear,
Happiness grows from warmth
Of the fondness of our peers.

Without the aid of vision,
Instead, opening our mind,
We can learn to love one another,
If all the world was blind.

“Intricate Ivy” by A.J. Huffman

A plastic rose
marks my breast.
Where silence
should be
But life cannot be bought.
With baubles and bows.
is the trick
it desires.
And I am afraid
my wrists
have not a drop.
To give.
Will have to do.

“Against This Landlocked Sky” by A.J. Huffman

Close the lid
on this life.
          has had enough.
Of the air.
The sun.
And, that bastard,
the moon.
All calling
from a distance
I'll never retrieve.
From the dream.
Both have been unbreathing
for years.
Suffocated in dust.
Full of footprints.
Never fingerprints.
Which was the touch
to shatter the visible lock.
Holding me.
To this living.
Like a ghost.

“Inside Perfection” by A.J. Huffman

Your smile
has a way
of raping my mind.
I can feel it.
The brutal intrusion --
not altogether unwelcome --
Layer after layer
of resistance.
You push harder.
You intend for me to open.
In acceptance.
But the best I can do
is bleed.
On command.

“A Streak of Snow” by A.J. Huffman

Falling water freezes.
Clings to limbs.
Not unlike me.
Clinging to you.
I am beautiful.
Draped on your arms.
Tangled in your fingers.
You turn me.
And I glow
to catch the sun.
But closeness burns.
Worse than the air.
It makes me temporary.
And I fear.
I will be left.
As a puddle
of growing mud.
Beneath your feet.

“The Nomad and the Dromedary” by Michael D. Brown, PhD

The camel in his kindest tone
requesting relief from his master,
from the desert night's cold.

Hard pressed to decline a plea
for help, the nomad reluctantly agrees.
The camel squatting thru the archway

of the tent almost straddling limbo
carries his single hump inside.
Morning with its heat arrives
the nomad waking finds himself outside.

“A Love Letter in Your Absence” by Michael D. Brown, PhD

Dear lover, I can only use words to touch you, my hands cannot reach
past the kilometers that separate us in time. I wait, but at least I do not wait in the vanity of emptiness, not knowing who you are or for
whom I wait.

I do not imagine you with the imagination of a writer of fiction. I do
not conjure up a heroine suffering long to meet a lover off to war,
separated for some worthy cause.

Our love is not the victim of some conflict needed as the recipe for
suspense. It is enough that we love well and no one can interfere. No
one can separate us with forbidden love or temp us with the taste of

I loved you before I met you in the anticipation, which came to me
prophetic in my dreams. I dream like, Joseph dreamed but the stars pay
homage to the love we share and we share love and there is no drought
for seven years, for seven years.

Our hearts are filled with plenty, we are the standard bearers: we are
the example. Write us down for posterity; write us down so that others
may hold on in hope of what only seems true in another's dream.

Say, "I love you" with me so my heart and ears can unite and sing. Let
those three words band together to form a trilogy.

“Haunted From Above” by Anpalidor

This is another day,
sealed inside eternity-
I long to be...

and in her arms-

She is like an ancient moon,
perhaps she controls the stars-
as I...

Knowing not what is a lie,
the truth spills out all comprised-
to being ill...

Can't conceal,
this absolute love-
April's Fool haunted from above.

“Fireflies” by Michael Patrick

Laying back in the tall wet grass
Watching fireflies chase each other away,
Playing tag like children with no cares
Trying my best to join them
To throw out my cares and sing
With the night crickets
And laugh with delight
When I catch the fireflies
In my hands.

“For Nan” by Darragh Murphy

Seventy five white lilies peppered your coffin,
A portrait of loveliness, an elegant orphan.
Ellis Island acted as a crib, herself as their daughter.
Seventy two birthdays divided by water.
Like fools they’d abandoned the purest of babies,
Never writing or missing the most perfect of ladies.

Embarrassed, you would shield the right side of your face
Yet it was that cheek that I'd kiss during every embrace.
Many mirrors had divided a beauty mark from a mole.
It lingers as a badge of the kindest oul soul
Who, after ulcers and laundries that you never found tough,
In the ward of a sanatorium even found love.

Our faces belong against your navy pleated skirt
That would shield us from the realness and darkness of hurt
And to make us laugh you would point to your laddering tights
Or spoil us with tea too late in the night.
And whenever we left your eyes used to twinkle
Before tears used to pool in the prettiest wrinkles.

It maddens me that today a dog sits in your chair
You would scold me for saying that he doesn't belong there
Like the rainclouds above your funeral
Or your towels soaked in petrol
Hanging from clothes-pegs in the most delicate of breezes
Like your whispers that taught us thank yous and pleases.