Poem – SPARK

Alyscia Cunningham and Gena Stutzman

Alyscia Cunningham — Fri, 08 Jun 2018 03:26:05 +0000

Alyscia Cunningham
Response

Lost Threads
By Gena Stutzman
Inspiration piece

lost threads from your old coat
chosen and carried through the air
by that hope-filled sparrow
contain memories of you
particles of you-

smiles, loving intentions,
tenderness, tears
epiphanies,
wild rhythms and wild dancing
each thread like stardust.

imagine a tree filled with memories of hundreds of seasons
waiting,
longing,
for the softness of feathers
the rejoicing of birdsongs.

traces of you becoming the answer to the prayers of a tree and a bird.

Alyscia Cunningham and Brian MacDonald

Alyscia Cunningham — Fri, 08 Jun 2018 03:17:57 +0000

Brian MacDonald
Inspiration Piece

Spark
by Alyscia Cunningham
Response

At first you grasped me tenderly,
Caressed my core vivaciously,
Piece-by-piece, created me,
To light our cosmic galaxy.

Formed my inner soul perfectly,
And topped my crown so carefully,
Then flipped the switch in hope to see,
A flick of light inside of me.

My inward being wanted to be,
Your hopeful opportunity.

But your smile conflicted far from glee.
As my glow dimmed like debris.

Unfilled expected goals,
Felt as if you’ve lost control,
A space once warm has now turned cold,
Frustrations trigger lonesome holds.

You turned your back from our console,
And slipped into a sunken hole.
Forgotten pathways to uphold,
Trials and tribulations stroll.

Return to feed your dreams abstain,
Let time not be your goals refrain.
Please pick me up and try again,
And Spark the coil that joined our chain.

Kathleen Finn Jordan and Wendy Schneider

kjordan466 — Tue, 08 Dec 2015 04:30:14 +0000

Wendy Schneider
Inspiration piece

Water Wonder
By Kathleen Finn Jordan
Response

Neck arching back and arms reaching for imagined rafters
Into the miracle of shower after long day
And nipples saluting the warm air spinning
Around as shampoo rinse slides down the back
Caressing the bod in
Warm sweet restful streams
Life is good
mind is beaching in the tropics
nose is savoring the sweet smell of coconut
Legs massaged by the runoff of soapy brook like rivulets refreshed
and the night looming ahead
after silk slips easily onto these limbs so ready for dance
and sips of champagne
hugs of friends
and rhythms carrying hips and joints to foreign spots
The water sings and the night awaits
Full of perfume and promise.

————————————-

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Russ McIntosh andRobert Haydon Jones

Russ McIntosh — Fri, 28 Sep 2012 00:43:34 +0000

Russ McIntosh
Dual Vistas
Digital Photo Illustration
Response

Blue Sky
By Robert Haydon Jones
Inspiration piece

I want to lie. I want to say they didn’t off that blue sky.
That yesterday morning when it bloomed cobalt again, I didn’t
feel a thing, not even a tweak, just hooray for the last rays of summer.

Hey, that blue September Manhattan sky has always had a double edge.
You know what I mean. Schoolstart and the baseball suddenly serious
just when you couldn’t go — and then
grown up at work cooped indoors on perfect Beach days. Looking out.
That topless blue sky like a rapture that knocks you out
if you look too long.

The girls still in their summer dresses and New York (more than ever)
a tall man’s quick step. And…and I can’t lie…yesterday and every time I look
at that blue sky, I want to look away. Because the blue and that awful day
are seared in me and on me as one interlocking brand. It hurts big time
and I want to bellow and swear it doesn’t.

So, what can I do but honor my pain?
Fact is there was always pain aplenty in that
September blue. I wasn’t at Antietam — but
I was in Munich — weren’t you too?
When they smithereened the only truce the world believed in.

That canopy has always covered our world without comment.
Without us it could be any color. The beauty is there but so is the other.
Yeah, from now on when I look, I’ll try and ride the cobalt out for all its worth,
which to my complete surprise on 9/11/2012, is not less — but more.

__________________________________

Russ McIntosh and Gabriel Shanks

Russ McIntosh — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 18:18:52 +0000

Russ McIntosh
vertical horizon
Digital Photo Illustration
Response

DONDUKOV BOULEVARD
By Gabriel Shanks
Inspiration piece

No more hiding. We can fall away, slip from sight,
even in the middle of the city,
and if you ask me what my fondest memory is,
I will tell you of leaves and bricks in a road halfway round the world,
where the wind tastes of long-dead empires,
and even if our arms are broken at the ends,
I will step onto its bricks and call for you,
in music you have never heard before,
and you will be yourself as you have never known,
watching the stars slide into place,
and nothing will ever be wasted again,
not even the breath you exhale,
and we will not care if we are followed,
because we will begin to run down these roads,
and history will coat us in fur and feathers,
living in pauses and stutters of speech,
until the pavement takes pity and teaches us words,
and the sunlight will show us the next corner,
and we will need only tomorrow.

__________________________________

Ray Sharp and Sandy Coleman

Amy Souza — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 00:49:09 +0000

Sandy Coleman

Inspiration piece

Ray Sharp

Response

Calypso
By Ray Sharp

Cerulean blue hat
in a tangerine sky,

My pussy cat
my chocolate cream pie.

Orange sliced fat-a-ways
segments clock the hours,

Chopin polonaise
slow dance of the flowers.

From Trinidad
to Louisiana,

Orange you glad
I didn’t say banana?