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Month: March 2017

the lake

Posted on 31/03/2017 by Mark Prisco

The lake like dark wine unfurled, bent in the light, rose as waves in the sea,   broke on the pebbled beach. I may as well   not be here: I might be mad, but feel   the water rising up the sand would be/is;   even if I never was there, by the wave-tormented…

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from Nowhere/ Always/ Everywhere

Posted on 31/03/201731/03/2017 by Dean English

…Meet me in blue skies, meet me in rain. Tell me I have now understood blame. Peace does not start with denial of access . Illumination bleeds f32 acceptance. If at the airport, if when your transport, see me in, respect these wide open arms; test which you call forth motivates differently hold me this…

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to my old piano teacher

Posted on 28/03/201729/03/2017 by peterlebaige

to my old piano teacher     to Mrs. Wells remembered this afternoon along that road the paddocks where you grazed your horses, your pug dogs snuffling clustered at the door, your riding crop and helmet, the house redolent with sun and a dark piano were all no more than that nothing history of real estate…

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roughing it

Posted on 26/03/2017 by Mark Prisco

Booze is great – it drops us in the shit our fathers made – in the field, hard-up against the bark of a tree.   Dec ’16

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Saturday – night

Posted on 21/03/2017 by Mark Prisco

So, home and the rest of the afternoon i don’t remember. The sun had shone in the rain on the walk home and later, rain. The clouds at sun-down made way for stars and i thought of a house we found in the wilds, miles from the mess down to my trembling hand.

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in complete

Posted on 21/03/201711/04/2017 by Philomena

there’s a golden globe that bounces in Gisborne laps up  surf     langours in sand trees shift their branches wafting in greeting not to be missed     paint pallets no justice define not the still of a sunset epiphany risking its will we bow in deep envy praise mighty relief pleasure intensifies natures…

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yearning for dimensions’ shift

Posted on 19/03/201721/03/2017 by Philomena

  ‘m   If time measured love instead of hours hearts would not cease Sun would not set  embraces       Moon would light belief     the clock could not tick its seconds Childs play nor cease or chase old couples smiling presence young lovers deep intense   the garden grows unfettered by chiming…

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Sunday Blues

Posted on 19/03/2017 by gizzyblue

I can see into your eyes of blue Like a drifting sea surrounded by clouds I look deep inside My big blue eyes gaze longingly within you trying to gauge you Are you real enough for me? Are you tough enough? Are you rough enough? Do you truly get me? I’m a wild child drifting…

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A Reading

Posted on 17/03/201727/05/2017 by john keast

I couldn’t do it, Not at that pub. All those clever bastards Spilling wine (into their throats). Fancy standing up To read – I’ve seen the pictures: All black jeans And pained looks, Unruly hair and rolling eyes. And there’s me Drinking days done Gasping for ale, Anything – It’s too late now The stars…

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clut

Posted on 16/03/2017 by Mark Prisco

‘shame to stop 2 steps short of hell’s exit ( – Alighieri, Dante);   hard to turn; go on; to lie, hear the pulse between my ears..burn;   apt (is it), bad luck or.. – what a shit of a trip i could drop but for   (i confess) my irrational belief in..discipline which is…

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A Road Trip

Posted on 16/03/201727/05/2017 by john keast

Well, she said, it’s been a while. As it had; 40 years or more. She was young and wanted a lift. Oh, you must remember – The road to Canberra Autumn frost’s silver sheet and blackened trees Peripheral place names and Kris Kristofferson’s Sunday Morning Coming Down; And us, going up and coming down; Thoughtless…

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first poem

Posted on 14/03/2017 by Mark Prisco

1 As we’re on the road still, dragging our heels, up– hill,  and for all our toil in the hot wind, and for all the smart and discipline, I’ll say this.   2 There’s something to be said for a soft luxurious bed in the first spring of morning: the flies affirm it, and violets,…

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