Tuesday, August 18, 2015

our citadels of poetry. . .

'learning to live in citadels of our poetry'. . .  ass't ed. Frosty, insisting "here be poetic paths to citadels of living and learning!"
(from bear creek haiku #128). . .


should you decide
to paint a memory of me
while dreaming,
let it be the glimmer
of an evening lake

darrell lindsey
nacogdoches, texas


clothes abandoned
flowers woven in her hair
she sways
with the meadow grass

kitsuné
bolinas, california



The sun rises in my heart, I call it love.
Every leaf of me.
      
                  charlie mehrhoff
                         oakland, maine

one noble truth leaf after leaf after leaf

                  don wentworth
                         pittsburg, pennsylvania


from Jo Balistreri's Tama - 'here's another!' 

          Before Goodbye

          I'm saving every
          memory - coins in a jar
          that I'll never spend.

       margaret l campbell    anderson, south carolina




my buddy Sam, insisting 
'I've another!' -

thunder
bounces off mountains
and comes to rest
in the purple apron
of wild iris petals.

steve ausherman     albuquerque  new mexico







Phynix, 'tho waiting for a belly rub, 
offers 
us two poems. . .


fishing late                           the dove 
the boat full                          in flight
of one cricket
                                         the branch
    darrell lindsey                                    still

                                                          shaking
  
                                             charlie mehrhoff

all the assistant editors simultaneously insist - flowers for everyone!



and, especially, treats! and a belly rub 
for all hard-working assistant editors!

                                                                               

  

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen
                                                                     
 darylayaz@me.com 


            
              
                 

                
                 Thelma and Callie                        



Savannah








                                     
  
     

  a late-night p l wick! with words
                       beyond belly rubs! 



                                                            

from me, as this colorado night quickly passes. . . 


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