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A Coarse Mare Called Carcosa, And UpOn It…A Faded Division – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

The Echoing Yell Laid Low,
All Once Guilded Now Rubble,
In Scorn Of Lovers Guided By None OutSide,
Fools And Their Circles OverHead For Halos And Lost Veils,
With UnderWater Kingdoms Washed AWay,
To Where Be The Intended For Seers To Pierce,
In The Rounding Of The Desolate Crawl,
Played As Cards UpOn The Revolving Door,
InTo HallWays Where Blackened Paintings Hang,
Not Hidden By Soot… No… To Scrape One’s FingerNail Across Canvas
Will Reveal…

A Scratch Made InTo Memory’s Delicate Shade,
Where That Mark Might Be Further Widened,
And To Peer InTo Its Distended Window…


Never The Emptying Vessel For Wanting An Audience,
A Jar WithIn A Field WithIn A Negative Lock,
Under Spells For Killing The King With Randomness,
Lay’d As Dominoes UpOn The Painted Floor,
InTo Walls Peeling From Near Once Sainthood Sang,
Caught Forbidden By Set Pieces…

No Pipeings To Mete Forwards To Scruples,
Done Only With Its Singer’s Curse,
Whose Voice Not Be As Tattered As Its Vestige,
Vascular And Frozen In Claustrophobeic Implications…

It Stitches Nine UpOn One’s Lives,
And Leaves All SpeechLess By The Opening Scene…


Can That Only Be What The HeadLess Bishop Wishes For (?)
As DayLight Ascends And His Dreams Melt AWay?

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

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Maybe God Is A Cat – A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

“In 1911, the little town of Nakhla in Egypt was the scene of one of
the most remarkable events in history: a chunk of rock (later
discovered to be a piece of the planet Mars) fell from the sky and
killed a dog,the only known canine fatality caused by a cosmic
object.”
–Paul Davies, The Fifth Miracle.

Maybe God is a Cat–
Sharpening her claws on planets,
Pouncing from star to star
Unraveling our lives like yarn.

We scatter as mice in the barn,
Our hearts pitter-patter–
But there is nowhere to hide
If God is a celestial cat like that:

A feline God of War
Brighter than Blake’s Tyger
Who knows what fangs are for
And never leaves survivors.

More at http://about.me/dklawitter.

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Paying Homage to Raymond Carver – A Poem by G. S. Katz

When I write I think of Ray
How would he phrase this?
Raymond Carver died young at 50
He was the King of the common man
Relationships, love and heartbreak
His specialty
If you love the written word
You should spend some time with Ray
He is timeless
He is me and you
He is poetry in motion

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Shades of Life – A Poem by Kathy Anderson

Shades of
Sweet apple reds
Painted on cheeks and lips
Impart a youthful glow instead
Shades of
Darkness shadow’d
Grey clouds above our heads
Wanting blue skies to look up to,
Shades of
Memories there
Where we unfold
Fly high above the flames,
Echoes of dieing embers are
Shades of

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Drone Strikes (The Reality) – A Poem by Roy K. Austin

And this from ‘the land of the brave’
or so we are often told,
even the Bald Eagle swoops to be fed
or the stalking wolf who takes his chance on the fold,
but this monster, him at a glance, my friends
high on altitude and being smarter, takes none–
so do we buy it and are we sold
on this coward’s charter?
Come sit in his comfortable chair
and point his Joy–stick to murder
anyone who has life to lose,
known or unknown in the target area.
This is not the America I admired
in fact, this is not America at all
and that’s reality my friend.

More at roykaustin.weebly.com.

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A Robin's Tune That Soothed the Old Man's Soul – A Poem by Tim S.

Here, where trees and foliage meet;
Where rippled waters glide,
A robin’s joyous tree top song
Has stilled my metered stride.

He serenades his melodies
In songs no man can phrase,
Ensnaring thus my dreary soul
To listen to his praise.

Could it be, his whistling tune
Reflects a sad unrest?
For one departed- from this earth–
Interred in heaven’s nest?

The answer fades, for I must go,
I’m feeling winter’s greet.
The sound of snow upon the ground
Mimics kitten’s feet.

Till spring has come, I’m sure I’ll miss
His ballads through the glen.
But when the white grass turns to green
I’m sure we’ll meet again.

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Contentment – A Poem by Shelley Nutting

I have nothing to do.
No pressing engagement.
A house empty of all,
save the freshly laundered duvet
that invites me
to partake of its
fragrant comfort.
I curl, cat like,
basking in a pool of
liquid warmth that seeps
lazily through the window,
bathing the room
in orange glow.

Oh to spend a life time here,
wrapped in such sweet embrace.

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