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Showing posts from May, 2025
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Ruined The tides had turned and the Man in the Moon   was bleeding, dissolving withering away as he melted down. He cried out to   Father Time hiding there on Earth but there was no help to be had There was no time for it, no hope left only deaf ears and everything in ruins. https://feversofthemind.com/2025/05/31/ekphrastic-poetry-challenge-11/
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  A State of Terrorism There are tunnels everywhere, they lie, under every road, under every building, every field and every tent, they lie. They are all terrorists, they lie, the old men and women, even the children,   even the babies born and unborn, they lie. The journalists are terrorists, the aid workers are terrorists, the artists and poets are terrorists, the medics and nurses are terrorists, the teachers and cooks are terrorists, the dying, the dead and the buried are terrorists. In a state of terrorism, a state of terrorists, they will lie and they’ll lie and they’ll lie. https://www.militantthistles.com/lynn-white-poems
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  The Final Cut Like Dorian Gray she had two personas, both with shadows, one dark, one light. Both slashed open, sliced in two divided. In the final cut she was both. https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-challenges/ekphrastic-writing-responses-donna-lee-smith-curated-by-kate-copeland
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  The Last Bouquet I’d always loved flowers and you surrounded me with them. Those numerous bouquets would bring me joy, you said. And now   the heart of me   is filled with your flowers, so many flowers scenting my face, engulfing me in a multi coloured glory of fragile petals. And now that you’ve left me   for the last time I have flowers to spare   and I think of you leaving me   flowers and now I shall take them outside, let them follow you out and wait for the butterflies to visit my last dying bouquet. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FB515QG1/ref=sr_1_2?crid=30ED3MDGN2CL8&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.P0YxCEQXKORFb8-nfJyKiBqgLC3moBZq-mqW2iVpZhN2S_StwZRKhMYKRIv2AjklHgTEHqr9Hu2VwQrq2CKpvSK8SNCXuYUle6Z6HW111TIgUPIxslN5wfN4l8TUp_iaDYqTq9FIICze-Gd3VjeorwyD4pjNnz_3uM-uQKktEfOb9VPylqq4sZRJlDyDsXH9tZuO9vEf1PeoXjyiKXkU-MppybhLiSN2o_F_AqAJkKg.RcW2g-okX1U9-sAfUxGyaeSpAWytPKphF7Tmh1vXAE0&dib_tag=se&keywords=the+stray+branch&qid=1748486299&sprefix=The+Stray+Bra...
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  The Last Words Just a postcard enclosed in an envelope, enveloped for you as your love enveloped me. I expect no reply, there can be no reply when all that’s left are remnants, as worn and shrivelled as our love became. But I cannot quite let it go. https://hotelmasticadoreshouse.wordpress.com/2025/05/29/the-last-words-by-lynn-white/
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  Music Moves The music of my youth still plays inside my head the subversive music of the streets challenging the surround sound norm out of tune with it. Songs of struggle, rebellion, civil rights, songs of peace and love sung in a climate of war and hate and the hoped for revolution that seemed so close   but didn’t happen. All that is left are the songs and the young still breaking boundaries, timeless and placeless in tune with changing times which can be any time at all. https://hhpresscom.wordpress.com/may-2025-issue/
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  Possibilities He was used to bareback riders, he had been a circus horse after all. But she was different, as bare as Lady Godiva covered only by her long hair. He could feel her auburn curls tangling with the curls of his long black mane.  Her flesh was on his flesh, he felt it touching, felt her warmth against him. The audience would have felt it too, his audience and hers.  He rolled his eyes and stole a glance behind and then he opened his mouth to tell her to cling on tight. But no words came. He knew they were unnecessary, that she knew he would help her,  help her escape them - the Ringmaster cracking his whip and the fearsome clowns. So he carried her away, out of the big tent with its smells of sawdust and fear and towards the light. He thought he could transport them both to a brighter future, possibly, but only possibly. Everything was possible. But anything was also possible. Light and dark both have their problems and we don’t know where they are ...
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  After The Rain The droplets reflect   their world so perfectly they could be made of glass. Perhaps they are made of glass, how else can the rainbows shine through. https://www.lulu.com/shop/som/fresh-words-magazine-may-2025-issue/paperback/product-gjy847q.html?page=1&pageSize=4
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  I Had A Dream I had a dream that night, my wedding night. I dreamed of   a light   shining in the dark as I waited   for the cock   to crow and herald   the arrival of the angel always present in my dreams, always present in the ins and outs and ups and downs of the rest of my life, always present in the dark. https://www.lulu.com/shop/som/fresh-words-magazine-may-2025-issue/paperback/product-gjy847q.html?page=1&pageSize=4
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  Papillon The butterfly knows no death in its metamorphosis. It knows it will rise again with the certainty of Papillon now. And as he rises to tell his story history repeats again. https://newversenews.blogspot.com/2025/05/papillon.html
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  All That Is Solid It seems too solid to be held in a cloud and the sun seems too bright   to descend from a cloud and make a reflection in the pool of dark and the cloud seems too round   to hold the moon in the gloom and nothing looks right any more. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/05/light-out-of-dark.html