David Mott, known as Ariosto on Allpoetry.com, can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/ariosto

He lives in Georgia, USA, but is originally from New England.

Garden of Souls

  

I may be the Tinman searching for a heart
except I haven't had much time to look these days

The road to Oz still keeps me going
sights I see seem more important than the steps I take

Once though, in a maze of crazy streets and alleys
I came to a gentle wall that blocked my way

A garden lay beyond its mossy crenellations
I could smell the blue, sweet scent of lilacs
ivory petals drifted down a sighing wind
I envied small birds that danced above it
envied the flowers blossoming within

I sat in shadows waiting
wondered what it must be like inside
but a doorway never opened
and I've grown too old to climb

Everyone's garden is a private place
mine must be the yellow bricks I stride

Check him out.

Lauren Lamourine, known as Anemone on Allpoetry.com, is from New Jersey, USA.

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Anemone

What is beauty?

With arms moving to an infrequent rhythm

Perfectly in sync with the temperamental

Flutist; what is beauty in this gray world: a

Dancing willow tree?

Check her out.

Now here’s Morgan Varner known as JustBe on Allpoetry.com, coming to us from Maryland, USA.

Morgan is part of the great brain drain of young people exiting Iowa for greener pastures.  He is known as JustBe on Allpoetry.com.

He can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/JustBe

Umbra to Orange

Unbroken day

cracked umbra to orange,

but in the realm between moments,

I did not wake alone.

You coalesced about me,

lit the languid void of speech,

and there was nothing,

blessed nothing,

but only

fragrant seas of linen,

familiar flavors on the wind,

waning tides, cleansing moon—

our own piece of god.

You welled up with the sun,

blurred in my eye, and fell away.

All forty hapless miles,

sleep well,

and Love,

between my dreams, good night.

Your absence sleeps in my arms,

its breath silent as the truth.

Still I cannot curse the lie;

I lived you this morning.

Check him out.

Now, Gina comes to us from Australia. She is known as Emerald13 on Allpoetry.com.

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Emerald13

I have a photo of you taken in mountains somewhere

~

you, snowflakebearded, you 

smile there forever 

in stainless steel light  

beneath an impossibly-blue sky 

your eyes follow me  

and I move just off-frame  

hoping you will step 

out of the paper 

and kiss me, sometimes  

in this tranquil room, I wonder  

if a morning will come 

when I don't think about you  

and when absence inhabits  

me, becoming 

too much to bear you are turned 

in a handful of silence 

to face the crack in the wall   

Be sure to check her out. 

Kristoffer Rakow comes to us from Sweden, a Scandinavian country sandwiched between Norway and Finland.

He is known as Irial on Allpoetry.com and can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Irial#

A Silver Morning

A silver morning drenched in dew

We lay there on the grassy plains

Gazing up into the skies

The wild stars blazing

Intergalactic fury

We lay there to rest our bones

From the midnight hunt

Our way

To chase the apathy away

To seek our infinite dreams

Sweaty you turned around

To face me with your lips

By the gods you were beautiful

We were destiny

Children of the eternal wild

Your pale body moved like

A swaying field in the wind

Mesmerizing my very presence 

Harmonic lust combining our souls

Echoes of our love 

Engraved in the roof of the world

We shattered the world that night

What came after was a bleak image 

An illusion of trust

Machine-made-lust

Fading from our minds like dust

Set free to explore 

With spirits entwined 

And with no regrets 

We left this world 

To seek

An endless cascade of infinite dreams

Check him out.

Butterflywriter comes to us from Louisiana.

She's a bit shy, so we have no name, but ...

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/butterflywriter#

To Thine OWN Self Be True...

I have learned of having courage

in the past three years

courage to be me

to love who I love

say what I say

do what I do

and accept

that I

and what I

believe is not

for everyone, but

for the few that hear

my words and accept my love

it is the top of the mountain

the crest of the wave, the fire in

my writing, and the peace in my soul.

Check her out.

Now, Ruth Kephart comes to us from Pennsylvania, USA.

Ruth can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/RuthKephart

Be sure to check out her book, For Everything There Is A Season, ISBN # 1-4241-4513-9 published 7/2006. 

It is available at barnesandnoble.com http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?ISBN=1424145139&pdf=y , amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Everything-There-Season-Ruth-Kephart/dp/1424145139/ref=sr_11_1/103- , 

and can also be ordered at any bookstore nationwide

And now, here’s Ruth:

My Mother's Quilt

A worn quilt rests upon my favorite chair
Each stitch a faded memory it seems
Of days when I would watch my mother there
With quilting frame and scraps of blues and creams

She’d sew for hours on hours every day
Creating quilts for family and for friends
With time and love she seamed without delay
A throw of all her little odds and ends

Dear mother has been gone now twenty years
And I have aged with children of my own
Though death is one step closer, I’ve no fears
Of dying, loss, or simply the unknown

I hope to see my mother, soon, once more
And know, in heaven, that she waits for me
With quilting frame and cotton scraps galore
Darning her quilts for all eternity