— Write a Poem Together —

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— Recent Poems —

• And I still don't know what to make of your friendship

  by cone (i, iii, v, vii, ix, xi), and lex (ii, iv, vi, viii, x, xii)

  I

  And I still don't know what to make of your friendship

  II

  Shadow? Facet? A more splendid version of who we are?

  III

  This change is thrilling; the leap unknown but comforting somehow

  IV

  Letting go means having hands empty to receive what's next

  V

  Awakening like Spring full of surprising feelings and longings

  VI

  Created new as buds of emotion holding the flower’s promise

  VII

  Smiling from deep within and truly relishing the moment

  VIII

  and smiling more seeing ahead to joys ever unfolding

  IX

  The realization of happiness feels almost foreign and yet

  X

  so true as to have been merely lain aside, but was always at hand

  XI

  so ready, so willing; a synergy like nothing I've ever experienced

  XII

  together we are the best of each other and yet something so much more
• The discussion turned once again to the distruption of the automatic

  by cone (i, iii, v, vii, ix, xi), and jared (ii, iv, vi, viii, x, xii)

  I

  The discussion turned once again to the distruption of the automatic

  II

  Taking a break from the role of the automaton; like the odd bit of sun caught during the day

  III

  How restorative it was to slow way down, listen + absorb the natural world

  IV

  Ah to restore or not to restore: to put right; as it is, or to chase after change, improvement and that which is not. Windmills anyone?

  V

  And what's wrong with windmills? Anything that can be tilted at is worth a shot. At least she thinks it is.

  VI

  Windmills are not unlike roast beef hash, smothered in melted swiss cheese and bathed in a Poupon sour cream sauce. It's just that one real

  VII

  home-cooked meal lovingly prepared by the Amazing Chef JarooDude cannot possibly hold a candle to the other wonders of the world

  VIII

  Dyslexia strikes again if I hear right. As mom taught me, "hear what I mean, not what I say"

  IX

  And yet even if the words come out all wrong, isn't the underlying meaning in there... somewhere

  X

  Of course; what is, is. What it means, is its meaning. Always has been and always will be; can be no different.

  XI

  And yet when engaged in communication of any form, it's the gap between understandings that can be so mesmerizing, frustrating and wonderful

  XII

  Simply because the gap between the understandings is where the Truth is...
• Ghosts' fingers in the red storm light sparkle and change

  by Holly (i, ix), Kevin (ii), Tamara (iii, vii), Derek (iv), Jana (v), voluminous (vi), danellopee (viii), and Wayne (x)

  I

  Ghosts' fingers in the red storm light sparkle and change

  II

  Dazzling me with their sepulchral dance

  III

  Caring not, yet leaving me bereft of pants

  IV

  Wanting not, yet making elaborate plans

  V

  The snowman sings and dances alone.

  VI

  giggling, the little girls pounces, and scoops herself a fresh ice-cone

  VII

  I smile & close the curtains. Where my bitches at? Time for a fresh ice-bone.

  VIII

  Costco Astroglide 50 gallon drum. Foolhardy? Prescient? I couldn't say.

  IX

  My beanie baby collection, my sense of preparedness, and thee!

  X

  But Beanie batch belies brittleness because burst bubble broke bank barring bright side; looks like the kids are going to community college.
• Humming a song I didn't know

  by Julie (i), Brooke (ii), Charles (iii), Lori (iv), and Amy (v)

  I

  Humming a song I didn't know

  II

  I looked around me and laughed

  III

  Stepping on stage for the first time

  IV

  It's now or never. My time to shine

  V

  "Good times come with wine that is fine"
• I was walking along in my sing-song way

  by Beth (i), Mike! (ii), Kyle (iii), kevin (iv), and Bethany (v)

  I

  I was walking along in my sing-song way

  II

  with unbuttoned vest buttons, some buttoned wrong ways

  III

  shoes torn and tattered dancing in the suns rays

  IV

  the closing moon ensocks their folds like a dryer's smell

  V

  They sleep like babes that have drank their mother's milk.