At Dusk | Kerrie Salem
Look behind you,
Look in front.
You don’t hear
What I do.
You don’t feel
What they do.
On the periphery
Of the scene.
Just out of reach
At dusk.
human existence poems
New Days | Jenny Middleton
The days have become still,
Intricate and tissue
Wrapped, swaddled, laying
Peacefully in my arms.
I cradle each one.
Each impenetrable, confusing
Entity, and wonder if the shadows
and remnants of before hide beneath.
Sometimes I dare to loosen
Their tightness, their neatness
To check they are not bleating messages
From un-severed umbilical telephone
Like cords, fat attached and still ringing
with the words of their predecessors.
But they are individual.
Silent, pink and mute.
Attentive, dependant and waiting
For me to feed, to fill them
And bloat them
With my presence.
More at https://www.jmiddletonpoems.com/.
Of Dust and Pain | Megha Sood
The slow effervescence
the vaporizing effect of the sadness
body losing itself to the thin air
slowly and surely
the mothball slowly giving it to the air
its existence and its frailty
and the deep sense of attachment
the ephemeral bond between the existence and frailty
the curled up pieces of the burning papers
with its bits and pieces
earmarking the days and the nights
with its ashen touch
like the sand in the water
submerged and yet to dissolve
you can still feel
the existence of the silt and the sediment
the gelid hands of the reality
pinches me with its
cold fingers and freezes my warm heart
this sacred ritual of dissatisfaction
and time eating time
when the body completes the sacred circle
and suddenly there comes a realization
an epiphany of the sorts
we were all a ball of illusion
soaked in the murky pulverized dust
of pain and angst
to begin with.
Inventory | Stan Morrison
I’m more than the sum of my parts
And I have so many many parts
Stationary, moving or out of order
Some parts wore out over time
Some ground to a complete halt
Some replacements are available
Some require the operating room
Some are in the cosmetics aisle
A few respond to undergarments
My wit, humor, vulnerability abide
Way past the usual warranty date
Outlasting the telomeres’ usual fate
Not a function of metabolic tests
Invisible on x-rays and on scans
Whether in working order or not
I’m so grateful for what I’ve got
Sermon | Stan Morrison
Good relationships are healing
So go clean up the bad ones
You’re bound to feel better
Envy and grudges are weighing you down
So toss’em in a bonfire watch all the smoke
Be much lighter in the realm of absurdity
Farther along we may understand why