LOST CONNECTION

R.A. Whelan

United States

www.facebook.com/groups/1295270703870830

 

Travelers have different freedoms. 

Conversations can be more truthful perhaps. 

Some ones you meet may be no ones; 

Or will likely never be some ones again. 

Words shared are the scripts of an adventure; 

Without burden, for there is no need to carry on. 

It began as notable things often do 

With simple serendipity. 

A misread ticket held by an adamant pilgrim, 

Who, by occupying your place, 

Had you fill the empty space beside me. 

And so we embarked… 

A journey once measured in months 

Today would be measured in hours. 

Yet still would cover a lifetime. 

Above the clouds we talked 

As if we were observing angels 

Considering events tethered to the earth; 

The turmoil of family, 

​

The transience of lovers, 

The various expectations of men and women, 

The measured treasure of attachment, 

Deciding when to stay and when to go. 

Devoid of pretense 

Without agendas 

Free of the need to gain 

Or the fear of loss. 

And then we touched down. 

Walking down the hallway towards the exit 

Your hand on my sleeve was not quite a surprise 

As you pulled me closer toward you. 

No one noticed 

A lingering embrace, 

A loving caress,

A gentle kiss

Airports are full of encounters. 

They are temples to the constant emotions 

Of hellos and goodbyes. 

Words were no longer necessary. 

You turned to reclaim your baggage

And I left to find a connection.

 

UNSAID WORDS FROM THE RECENTLY PASSED ON

Colin Butcher

United Kingdom

 

Know only this, that, though I lie in another place now, I will always be yours.

Know that I love you, you are my forever. 

You were my world, I will miss your laugh, your love, your very being. 

I will miss our walks , our talks, our outings, our holidays . Know only that I love you, forever.

Too late now to tell you the things you mean to me, words left unsaid, worlds left unseen. 

The now is all you have, the past is all I am, but not what I crave. What would I do for just one more day, to say all the things I left unsaid; the things running round my head. 

You were my perfection, my goddess, my love. Too late, too late for me; my love.

 

We had it all, we had that perfect life, that love that was more than physical, more than spiritual, the golden days, the olden days. 

Making memories, making love, making time stand still. You will always be mine, I am always yours.

 

Goodbye sweet one, until we meet again in the long hereafter, souls lost and found.

 

But know only this: know that I always loved you…

​

 

Cigarette Smoke and Sweet Tea

Kassie Runyan

United States

https://www.KassieJRunyan.com

 

He sits.

Rocking in his chair

as he takes a long drag

from his unfiltered cigarette.

His overalls worn at the knee

and patched at least once.

He breaths out

and the smoke billows around him

framing his sun kissed face.

His long fingers tap

the arm of the chair

almost impatiently

as it rocks back and forth.

The smoke still sitting

heavily in the air.

He reaches for the plastic glass;

wet and cold on the outside.

A contradiction to the hot day.

He lifts it, taking a long drink

of his sweetened tea

savoring the moment

before looking right at me.

Blue eyes meeting my green ones

just as a grin breaks his face

crinkling at the lines from the years

and all is right in this summer day.

 

MORNING

Morgan Fechter

United States

https://www.Instagram.com/lovelylonelythings

 

Honey, how viscous you are

Behind fluttering lids

A slow balloon brings you up to meet me

Then sinks again to ribs

You shiver, delicate in repose

A petal, a dragonfly’s wing on the breeze

Your bones heavy, breath light

Soft harbor parted, as for a kiss

Is it my lips on which you wait?

Do you suffer in dreams?

Do you blossom?

Your cheeks do not yield as you lie

And I simmer in your silence

In awe, at ease

Waiting for you to wake

 

HER

Gabriel Angrand

United States

https://www.instagram.com/avgpoetry/

 

I entered her dreams

And just as her eyelids fell

I arrested her

She did not resist though

Instead she rested her head on my chest

And I wondered if she could hear

the war within me

I wondered if she could feel the violence 

Lingering on my fingertips like the lash marks

I will never truly heal from

I wished she would not mistake my grip

for the safety I desperately desire

I wondered if she falsely accused me

of falling hard for her

as if being with me would be that easy

I can’t clearly express how much I wish I was her reality

Because I am constantly torn by the beast I used to be 

And so I fight

I fight my urge to turn this dream into a nightmare

I fight to put my past to death and somewhere 

Deep inside

I feel she is the freedom I seek

I let the sun come up

And I leave her to her imagination

Because I would rather be the man of her dreams

Than be her living nightmare

​

 

THE SILENCE OF THE BEFORE

Genevieve Ray

United Kingdom

https://www.facebook.com/GenevieveRayPoet/

I wait;
in the empty.
The days of plenty,
before I embark,
on something new. 

I wait;
anticipation growing.
From wanton shores,
of listless hoping.
Burdened by a thought.

I wait;
unaware of the pleasures.

Those stalwart treasures,
borne from seconds of leisure.

A moment in space, to breathe.

I wait;
realisation arriving.
Opportunity divided,

guided by patience,
taking time to prepare.

I have waited,

utilising tranquility.
Meditation comes more easily.

Readiness for the storm.

In the gentle silence of the before.

​

 

DOORMAT

Shane Schick

Canada

https://shaneschick.com/poetry/

https://twitter.com/shaneschick

If ever I bothered to pick it up and beat it,

a lot more than dust would come off:

Past particles and memory debris 

from when someone knocked and

asked us to donate money to a charity,

or a real estate agent suggesting

we should sell the house and leave.

There were in-laws and friends

holding wine or a salad,

politicians who hoped to persuade, 

and last kisses before we came in 

to bid whoever babysat goodnight.

A single rectangle becomes the spot

where everyone unknowingly poses

for pictures that don’t get taken;

four corners that contain everything 

both invited and unwelcome.

Most people standing here probably 

focused on the door and what would

happen once it was answered, opened. 

Look down, though, and you’ll discover

this forgotten islet of the porch, where

you’ve managed to maroon yourself 

for at least a few seconds, an escapee 

from loneliness, doubt, indecision

and other thresholds you never even

realized you had already crossed.

​

 

TINY DANCER

Matt Cummings

United States

https://www.trappedpoet.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/trappedpoet

 

Tiny dancer, alone in the hourglass

Dancing away in lonely eternity

The stains of time

Hungry frame, beautiful face

Tiny dancer, hear me

You are mine, you are my world

There’s nothing else like you

Tiny dancer, dancing on the sands

Until you are full of sands

Tiny dancer, hold me

I want to embrace your heart

Tiny dancer, grinding gears

In my heart

Dancing in my mind

Always will be mine

Heart of sands

​

 

DON’T WANT TO GO BACK TO

DOING THAT AGAIN

Linda Crate

United States

https://www.facebook.com/Linda-M-Crate-129813357119547/

https://twitter.com/thysilverdoe

https://www.Instagram.com/authorlindamcrate/

 

used to blame all my

missed connections 

on myself,

but sometimes things

just don't work out

no matter how much you

wish they did;

and sometimes people

who promise forever

are incapable of giving 

you that—

but i wish people didn't

promise you forever or always

if they didn't at the very least

attempt to keep their promise,

wish people didn't say they loved me

just to keep me in places

i didn't belong;

all i know is that am uncertain 

of myself sometimes

i don't need to be doubted by people

who are supposed to be there for me

but decide one way or another

they won't be—

i used to hate myself,

don't want to go back to doing that again

not when i've finally learned to love myself

sometimes.

​

 

LIFE IN DOG YEARS

Nicoletta Soulia

United States

https://www.instagram.com/NicoletteSoulia/

https://twitter.com/NicoletteSoulia

https://www.tiktok.com/@nicolettesoulia?lang=en

 

Today is your birthday - 

but your concept of time is so different from mine.

Clocks are not a thing of value in your life when 

the way you experience time is by how long its 

fragrance lingers on your nose.

You could give a fuck about birthdays.

There is no scent that throbs on the annual, 

that leaves happiness engraved on your brain 

the way that seeing me come out of the bedroom 

wearing a pair of compression leggings and 

a racerback tank top does.

I have no way to tell you why birthdays should feel different, 

why you should feel special, 

why the only things that you should smell in the breeze 

are joy and curiosity at life’s ability to keep you alive, 

pride in your beauty, 

and the blanket of love that I wrap you in 

just so you never feel cold.

I silently pray for you to never get old 

just so I don’t have to mourn you before you die 

and watch you waste away like I have done before.

Today is your birthday - 

it smells no different to you, 

but for me, 

today is a countdown.

​

 

TRIAL RUN

Kathy Jo Bryant

United States

 

I don't mean to be nosey,

   But I brought you a posey,

       Maybe we can get cozy,

          Out here on the swing!

And then I might mention,

    Just to get your attention,

        It  is my intention,

           A love song to sing!

My heart is on fire,

   And full of desire,

      May the angelic choir,

         My message convey!

Words are just much too feeble,

    So Darling be agreeable,

        In the future unforeseeable,

           To LOVE me always!

​

 

THREAD

Kim Denning-Knapp

United States

https://www.linkedin.com/in/kim-denning-knapp-267853bb/

https://www.instagram.com/kimbiedk/

https://twitter.com/KimDenningKnapp

 

Thread of silk, 

filament pulled or shed 

in fervor

in brush with shadowed canvas

 

Fluttering

across landscape of valley, hill,

microscopic softness 

hovering between light

and audacity

 

Blending 

in full composure,

an impressionist’s caress 

on a picture of 

luster

 

Gliding, 

a loose dance

crossing boundaries

emulsifying 

into masterpiece

 

I dare to reach

as do you

fingers short of touch,

while a silken thread slips between 

your stillness 

and what is mine

 

ALTERNATE SOULMATES

Tara Mandarano

Canada

https://www.instagram.com/taramandarano/

https://twitter.com/taramandarano

​

He's strong black coffee – 

all scruffy face, shaggy hair, 

his artist hands carelessly 

cupping a double-double 

 

He’s got to be pushing forty, 

wearing an old man’s cap, 

but his neon-green t-shirt 

says HI, 

so she returns his smile, 

and they awkwardly turn sideways 

to shake hands 

underground

 

She's a skinny vanilla latte – 

all rust scarf, worn-in leather boots, 

her coral-stained lips chewing 

on her stir stick 

 

She doesn’t look a day 

older than thirty-five, 

and her eyes are alive, 

so he takes off his cap, 

his laboured drawings suddenly 

forgotten in his lap

 

Strangers on the subway, 

their thighs and thoughts 

brush up against each other

between the short ride from 

Sheppard to York Mills station

​

She is wondering, 

what if I wasn’t wearing my ring?

 while he is busy saving her face for later, 

when he is alone with his pencil 

and the next available blank page

 

Bookends with no books 

between them, 

they lean toward each other 

as the train takes another bend 

Bloor is the end of their line, 

but she grins secretly 

all the way to the platform, 

content to never see him again

 

Alone, he picks up his discarded pencil, 

her memory already poised 

above the page 

 

He has all the way to Downsviews station to get her right.

​

 

ONE DAY SOON!

Melanie Haagman – Girl On The Edge Poetry

England

Facebook.com/GirlOnTheEdge90

Instagram.com/GirlOnTheEdge90

 

The days, they’ve been tainted,

In fact they’ve been a fight,

And for so many people

It’s been hard to find the light.

 

Waves of emotion take over, Like an unexpected tide,

It’s hard to run away,

When you have to stay inside.

 

So mentally we struggle on, Using strength reserved inside,

We can’t view ourselves as

singular,

In something that’s worldwide.

 

Though everything is relative,

We must give ourselves a break,

Allow ourselves to let it out,

We have the right to ache.

 

One day we’ll speak historically,

A distant memory this will be,

So keep doing what you’re doing,

And soon we’ll all be free…

 

ONE FLAMINGO AND TWO MONKEYS

Mike Ball

United States

https://www.facebook.com/harrumph

https://twitter.com/whirred

 

I do not believe in golf, slow-speed 

walking polo. My fellow writers  

and sales types did—weathered folk  

in blousy kit lying and swearing. 

 

Instead, my fans stand and squat  

on the Dorals pool apron. I am odd  

enough so early two monkeys and  

a flamingo see me as the wild one. 

 

Something is intimate and sensual 

being wet and approximately naked 

in a large pool with no other human. 

Wildlife mutely shared the moment. 

 

I swam daily during our magazine’s 

stay, and was sunny TV for beasts… 

brown monkeys and pink waterfowl. 

What will they watch after I check out? 

​

 

HIS AND HERS

Lorelei Bacht

Thailand

https://www.instagram.com/the.cheated.wife.writes/

https://www.instagram.com/the.cheated.wife/

 

The other side of the bed is where it’s at;

Though precisely what “it” is,

I could not tell you now.

 

Hard to believe I used to get

Free tickets. The party would roll over to me

and lick my hand like a puppy.

Only in retrospect does the enormity

Of its devotion strike me.

There was no wrong or right or left,

Or side to take. No argument.

There was not even such a thing

As a side of the bed. But then...

The boyfriend, the new boyfriend,

The first husband, the next husband -

One by one, they all fell back

Into a limp sort of indifference.

My fault, for letting you

Convince me to give it 

Another chance.

​

 

OVERLOAD

Hannah-Marie Fisher

United Kingdom

https://www.instagram.com/hann_artpoetry/

https://www.facebook.com/Hannartpoetry/

 

She tells me how to breathe with angelic undertones, whispers her calm like an incessant drone,

I don't want to sleep I might miss something -

What if I miss something?

Focus and reload

refresh the page

Adjust the lights I'm coming on stage

The applause almost deafening as I enter

Eyes squint and nothings familiar

My clothes feel heavy and I start to scratch

Voice over- BOOM!

Pieces of me scattered

Shattered and my body battered

People brush past and my skin is on fire

A thousand needles stabbing

I climb higher

Faster amd stronger

I fight harder to leave

Furious at myself for not helping me

And furious at me for not helping myself

Hold my breath for 4 seconds

apparently it helps

I'm not sure how or why or even when but I know in 4 seconds I'll do it again-

to try to bring myself back into the room

In an attempt to float above the doom

Zoom around

Boom!

Watch me fly

There's no stopping me now-

BOOM!

I'm locked in this room and the walls are starting to get a little closer and my heart will start to beat a little faster and my bed sheets start to feel a little tighter and my body will start to feel a little lighter-

I'll levitate towards the ceiling

Count to 4 to induce the dreaming

Hold my breath to reduce the screaming

Hold on

Always believing

I'm a fighter and I'm still fighting.

​

 

RIP BISCUIT

Pankhuri Sinha

India

https://www.facebook.com/pankhuri.sinha.56

 

RIP Biscuit, you will always be alive in my heart! 

The first puppy I ever adopted!

Rather, the baby of the first puppy I ever adopted! 

Your mother was slightly bigger than a pup 

When she first came in my life! 

Found her sitting on my steps and made friends!

Her brother followed and the rest is a story! 

He loved bread, and I am sure 

Your mum did too, and despite my assurance

N my efforts to feed the two, took her bread, beat her good

Drove her out, she found refuge in the neighbourhood! 

Wasn’t too long after, my own mum says 

She saw the cutest ever puppies around! 

N one of them was you! I named you Biscuit!

My companion with tea, am almost a caffeine addict! 

I tried to keep you in, more than once, but you insisted

Demanded to go out! I kept two of your seven litters

N tried my best with the others, some disappeared 

One was hunted! Dear Biscuit departed, my heart breaks in two 

At the dangers of this outside world! N this time round 

With you so beautifully pregnant, so heavily pregnant 

I wanted to lock you in, but please know, do understand 

My limits, my love, my dear mum’s moods and whims 

Her anger at so many dogs! Puppy cries! Wild shrieks!

The endless mess! You stepped out, you sneaked out 

But believe me, Biscuit, my loveliest 

I missed it all, the tiny borns! The first crawl 

The eye opening, the velvet touch! I looked for you

Sent for you, messengers, envoys, you finally came

We followed you, you refused to share 

The destination dear, of dearest kids, mine and yours!

Beloved Biscuit! You had plans! You tried! 

But the second pregnancy of your adolescence 

The brutal cold! Our distance! I would have fed you well

N the babies! Will get to them one day with you!

So I thought! Till the other day you walked in injured

Shaking! Leg hurting, spine broken

Took us both a while to comprehend 

You howled in pain, the vet was called, all in vain! 

The morning was very sad! Unbearably cruel! 

What a beautiful face you had 

How approaching death distorted it! 

An Iota of breath remained in your bellies 

And the candle was out! 

Looked like you bled and you froze to death! 

What a travesty! Ugly tragedy! Missed opportunity! 

Missed connection between the two of us! 

And the rest of this world, which can’t even drive safe! 

When I had been talking of video recording your delivery 

When my garden was going to come alive

With new  born songs, antics, new dawn 

We were assigned to bury you! 

Drowning grief! Made me forget my own broken life

After two days of frantic search, nearing a fight

Found two alive, beauties made by you, some respite! 

Rest at ease, my lovely Biscuit, I watch them very closely 

Like comfort in pain, peace in trouble

But darling Biscuit! Why should it take

Just loners like me to wake up and cry?

When will the world around, awake already

Arise, realize, development’s needed?

N will it mean, just more human control? 

Injected births? Lab lives?

 

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY HEART

Violetta Babirye

Uganda

https://www.instagram.com/violettaeditorial/

https://www.facebook.com/violetta.bsekulovic.3

https://twitter.com/ViolettaEditor1

My life was once a twinkle.

Once shone, but now a wrinkle.

It's all lost, gone forever; a crinkle.

Once I was surrounded by a ray.

Bright and jolly, that it made my day.

We laughed, we danced, we swayed, ay.

I now suddenly feel like trash.

Everything is history; all ended in a flash.

He left, burying a heart I once knew in fine ash.

To think that there was once a love that shined

In the crevices of this broken heart that got mined;

It's a dream. A nightmare. One that will not be purified.

​

 

DOUSED BY DESIRE

Ms Abby Kay

Trinidad and Tobago

https://msabbykay.com/

 

I fell in love with water

But I was a burning ember

Begging for the cool touch

Knowing it would diminish me

Knowing that one full embrace could end me

Forever

 

I gave, willingly, my warmth

To expand and lift you higher

I provided the heat

Even from afar

But in my yearning for us to merge,

My passion with your calm,

Darkness threatening to descend

 

You begged to stay away

I begged to have you near

You knew that we weren't meant to be

But were seduced by my energy

 

Douse me,

I begged

My flames raging

Burning away your will to abjure

 

Your geyser erupted

The long sustaining hiss, announcing my demise

Into the air and away you rise

Taking all of me with you

 

Soon, the memory of my warmth fades away

And you return to your natural state

Never again shall I experience

Time or place

All because, I fell in love with water

And craved its embrace

 

MAGAZINE

Viva O’Flynn

United Kingdom

https://lovevivacakesandcrafts.blogspot.com/

 

Every page a whimsical fantasy

Words and phrases come alive freely

An orchestra’s crescendo escalates in one’s mind

Becoming a magical dream never to be left behind

Colorful sceneries and thoughts so fanciful

Present life so vivid true and meaningful

A field of flowers being kissed by the sun

Moonlight in the stream, the light of dawn

Memories of moments with family and friends

Cherishing relationships that never ends

Sharing laughs, hugs, smiles

Love traveling through miles

With every line and verse

Aching wounds it will nurse

Bringing light to someone’s darkness

Inspiring with a mag of kindness

​