Anesthesia

“The Pain Inside” by WF Lishinski

sleep of a sort

induced chemically

tunnel of light

growing smaller

and smaller

the visible world

in extruded distortion

pulled thin through

a long slender straw

colors flowing

like liquid at speed

swirling tight

tiny rainbows

aswim with grim faces

that race along

moving too fast

to at last become

recognized

menacing laughter

accompanies

noise of machines

breathing in

breathing out

all the light now

reduced to a pinpoint

as somewhere below

knife and sawblade

are felt dully cutting

this body who

came here reluctantly

wanting no more

but receiving much less

than a far too long

truant experience

sweet painless peace

Inamorata

“Tuscany Arches” by Marcia Baldwin

 

we gave birth to each other
presenting ourselves
to galleries of wisdom
hungrily scooping experience
piled at their feet
our puppy paws tenderly padded
anxious for callouses
needed to journey
the masonry distance
through arches of decades
across ancient tongues
learning unspoken phrases
of voluble silence

Awful Red Mist

“Holy War” by Nancy Merkle

battlefields bathed

in that awful red mist

tragic essence of

lost generations

indelible sacrifice

fouling the landscapes

of history duty-bound

blood oaths incurred

of their ultimate price

unforgettable youth

given unto the crucible

flesh and bone tested

for depth of conviction

for purity tending the

ancient-held principles

turned to the terrible

powder and smoke of

the bullets and bombs

raising visceral fears to

the stature of bravery

medals and crosses and

flags the mean trappings

of gratitude left upon

battlefields bathed

in that awful red mist

Decoration Day Thoughts

Vintage Decoration Day Note Card

 

(Originally posted here in May, 2014)
************************************

(I grew up knowing it as Decoration Day. Today it is called Memorial Day.)

(To America’s three million uniformed soldiers and sailors, flyers and marines, – dead, wounded and missing – the casualties of our seventy-five wars and armed clashes since the American Revolution)

gather my gratitude unto your graves
anoint your mean scars with my tears
feel my arms round your still homeless
ghosts I am here thanks to you with no
gifts but my words all my tribute exists
in compassion that weighs on my heart
you are sacrifice given to direst of duty
you answered the call with the courage
of flesh and blood placed in harm’s way
in defense of your flag faith and family
know I am your son holding dearly your
legacy filled with the freedom of grief

Memento

“Fond Memories” by Carmen Guedez

an old ticket stub
torn from a theater
that no longer stands
for a movie film
no one remembers

even she has to
press hard her memory
trying to call up his smile
as she wonders
where life laid his journey
how decades on decades
have treated his heart

did he ever make good
on the plans he described
with exuberance
drawing the future on air
with those boy-handsome
gestures of unbridled zeal
all that sparkling confidence
only the young
ever rightfully own

she looks up
from her scrapbook
with tears that reflect
the surprises and turns
her own journey encountered

the tears not so much
for what’s done and behind
as for what remains
unknown ahead

an old ticket stub
torn from a theater
that no longer stands
and she wonders

Lost & Found

“Heaven’s Blue Door” by Justin Francis

(with apology to Milton)

lost

whereto paradise
after the fall
after abel and cain
after sin

found

wherefore paradise
lies within reach
of a faith
in salvation

regained

thereto paradise
ever belongs
in reward of
a virtuous life

Empire

“Gladiator” by Tania Vasylenko

 

haul up the portcullis
enter the stadium
lash your weapons
to your glory burn
torches of flesh
where the lion
surrounds violent
lust with its jaws
giving Caesar his
ease swing your
hammer blade
blunt chopping
granular colonies
slave pieces slip
through the glass
as bones reckon the
timing of empire

Hour of the Wolf

“Wolf Abstract 3618” by Marcia Baldwin

eyelids threatened by dawn

rapid quivers excited by fears

thence unbidden dead wraiths

whence the friends of the moon

count the souls who were born

and must die in this ominous hour

these brief fateful minutes

disowned by the night and the day

deep with danger of unruly minds

free to roam ghostly precincts

within this bleak crevice of time

loud with wordless assault by

the hair-raising howl of the wolf

Crepusculum

Photo by Mr Brendel

 

sienna dusk folds itself
crumpling clouds along vast
orange seams briefly blazing
beneath the precipitous night

Diligence

“Diligence 1” by Neukam Kinder-Harris

ordinary gifts
turned to exceptional work
secret of success