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poems of the week

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KISS OF THE MORNING DEW

It has been so long 
Since last your sweet lips kissed me
So, too, like the dry earth craves the Heavenly rains,
a dark longing for your touch
my body has sorely missed.

Waiting patiently until you are once again near,
Whispering those sweet words I have waited to hear.
Their sound drips like the dew from the gentle petals of a 
sleeping flower awakened by the early morn's warmth.

Then, faintly, hearing the low moans of passion's embrace
and conducting a fingertip symphony across the cords of 
her spine, with a familiar melody, like the wings of a 
humming bird, I chase the beads of sweet nectar through 
the paternal passage of time.

As the sweet nectar gently rolls down the long stem
Of the newly budded flower,
Trumpets blare, signaling that love's intensity
Has reached the bass drum's depths of her soul.

Lying here with afterthoughts of you, brings such strong emotions,
Our bodies drenched in Love's fragrance, like the moist earth, tilled
after a cleansing rain,
Your touch soothes me like the shade from the mighty oak tree

Alas, it is...

... A good morning... sweet dew.

LeNora Devine (c) lvd@mdbinfonet.com
Chris "Valentino" Hare (c) poetic_joker@yahoo.com

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Sister Sun

reach for me, Sister Sun!
stretch out your warming rays
as arms, to envelop me in your care.
hold me close, Sister, never letting go
and, with your bright smile,
fill my Center with the energy
that left me in the onset of
Terrible Fall.
make my spirit soar;
heal me

sing to me, Sister Sun!
wake me 
from my winter hibernation,
with your sweet voice of spring.
shine, and embrace me
with the warmth of your 
precious love,
stroke, and caress me 
with the passion of your 
summer's heat;
seduce me

comfort me, Sister Sun!
shield me from the cold winds
that even now
threaten my newfound joy in you.
hold the stinging rain at bay
just long enough for me
to gain a steady footing again,
enabling me to
charge up my reserves;
protect me.

love me, Sister Sun!
from sun rise to sun down.
Penetrate this black skin.
stimulate, ignite,
unleash the power 
of the melanin
that flows within. 
surround me 
with your majesty 
kiss me
with your
gracious
presence

David L. Weeks (c) weeks@nichemarket.com
and Rose "Bams" Cooper (c) bams@nichemarket.com

==========================================================

SYMPHONY

Listening to the rain fall,
Sounding like tiny drums,
The wind is the violin,
Carrying the melody as it hums.

Lightening plays across the sky,
In flashes of yellow and white,
As God directs a symphony,
That brightens up the night.

The clouds whisper softly by,
Some more harshly speak,
Looking dark and angry,
Across the sky there streak.

The morning sun comes shining through,
Like a very stirring movement,
But the stormy music continues,
The tiny drums more evident.

Dorothy Benner (c) dorilvn@N-Link.com

==========================================================

PASSIONATE BLUE SKIES

Birds singing in the morning,
	Trees blowing in the wind.

Tranquil beauty surrounds me,
	This is how my day begins.

Such peace and tranquil beauty,
	As far as the eye can see.

Never before in all of my life,
	Did I envision this happening for me.

The life I chose to live before,
	Seems now - so far away.

A life I thank GOD for getting me away from,
	Each and everyday.

These are gifts to me from GOD,
	Each morning I arise.

A sea of green soy beans,
	A field of green beautiful trees.

All under passionate blue skies.


Janice "Flower" Haskins (c) Elancor1@aol.com

==========================================================

THE ROOM I BUILT

I was sitting in the shadows,
Peeking shyly out,
Watching the world spin by,
Thru a one way window,
Safely concealed from those without.
Serene, I would spy,

I watched People hug and greet
A quick peck here,
And there a longer kiss, 
A holding hug, that lingers on so sweet,
Tender words spoken in a willing ear,
Promises made not to miss.

And then the couple so sad,
Walking apart.
Eyes downcast, Pain by mime,
Clearly in love, but also mad,
A team pulling apart the marriage cart,
No rein to pull them in line.

And then I saw him walking by,
Lost, Loveless and single,
An Island standing against the sea
And I thought I would cry,
As he rushed on refusing to mingle,
For I realized that could be me.

For behind this one way glass,
Is a soul tired and worn,
Tattered by sorrow and guilt,
Wearing a smiling mask,
Should I unveil myself to a world so foreign?
Or stay in this room that I built?                                            

Shaun Cecil (c) unteteunbois@usa.net

==========================================================

HANGING OUT

Arcs of light 
From the street lamps and neon signs
Showcase pools of life in miniature
Each pool a world unique to itself
Representing life in various angles and degrees

Primordial swamp things coalesce
In dark alleys and dank doorways
Waiting for their moment to perform

Sulfuric stenches of growth, death and rebirth
Alight upon my nostrils
As picturesque as a horsefly on a fresh pile of shit

Subconscious memory recollections
Of the anger, fear and resignation
Of life lived too hard, too fast

Life displayed in malignant moments
Destiny subsisting on the edge of
Civilized periphery
Homeless and hungry
Prostitute and destitute
Drug-addicted and ambition afflicted
These are my brothers and sisters

This is my life.

Nicole V. McLean (c) phoenix_nm@yahoo.com




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