Cara Louann Greenlee, known as RedwingSpirit on Allpoetry.com,

comes to us from Columbus, Ohio, USA.   She can be found here:

http://Allpoetry.com/RedwingSpirit

Forest Of Memories -

There in that forest lie the memories

of you and I running through the trees,

dancing along to nature's song so happily

and whistling the tunes of birds gleefully.

We both splashed in that little stream,

till we were both soaking wet it seemed.

I caught frogs too and chased you around,

you hated that giving me such a pitiful frown.

Life back then was so full of fun,

playing all day till there was no more sun.

We dreaded the time when we parted,

but the very next day our pleasure restarted.

The many hours we spent there together,

were times well shared that lasted forever.

© Cara L. Greenlee

Check her out.

CarolDesjarlais comes to us from Maine.

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/CarolDesjarlais

and here:

http://shewolfnative2.com

Evening In Paris

I could have been braver

when Night In Paris was a fad

and he gave me a blue velvet box

that took half his month’s wages

at Lowe’s garage.  It took courage

to date a guy from “The Other Side of The River”:

the Catholic bank where his little sins

could be paid for with a few prayers

but mine would strike me forever

from the book of believers.

Check her out.

Now Patricia Price, known as 2lullabyhaven, comes to us from Wisconsin, USA. with an elegant poem.

Wisconsin must be a veritable hotbed of excellent poets considering how many from there have already been featured here.

Patricia can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/2lullabyhaven#

Simple Elegance

~Simple Elegance~

It can rock your world

Delicate enticements

Juicy excitements

Extreme propensities

Heightened enlightments

Fiery sensations

Fruity formations

Informal formalities

Awe-inspiring realities

Mountainous insights

Wrongs into rights

Loneliness make-overs

Sugar, spice and clover

Lover move over-closer to me

Let me feel outbursts

Hold me when I'm terse

Read me your rhyme and verse

Serve me with honey, leave out the bee

Leave me no longer, Your face I see

Caress my words, surround my thoughts

Tell me again, what life's all about

Make my life simple, plain as can be

But add to it melodies, that I can see

~Simply Elegant~

You are to me

~Simple Elegance~

Just let it be

Check her out.

Next up is ShanaA, known as imahealer on Allpoetry.com.

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/imahealer

Apathy (GOLD)

draw a thin line between here and there
______________________________________

bands of love engraved; exchanged
seven years later, betrayal

confronting my enemy
raging fires burned my fingers
melting the vow into molten lava

digits became talons
digging straight to your heart;
tearing it into sixteen chambers
of loathing

 

the dove flew away

I slammed the door, never looking back.

 Check her out.

 

Karen R. Springer comes to us from the Garden State,

New Jersey, USA.   She is an educator and poet, and a very old friend of mine.  We first met many years ago on the Showemall Writer's Block, and we've been friends ever since.  

Here are a couple of her poems:

CHECKING OUT

I don’t want to live

Until life is a bore.

I’d rather drop dead

Screaming, “ More! Give me More!:”

You’ll not see me sit 

In some ol’  rocking chair;

Warehoused and obscure

No one caring I’m there.

So unwire the wires

And pull out the plugs

Just let me expire

Give me no drugs.

Life’s a great celebration

But don’t let me linger.

I’ll know when it’s over

And give Old Age the finger.

Yes, the world is an opera

So, please understand,

I’ll sing lead  soprano

As long as life’s grand.

Karen R. Springer

&

.POEM OF PASSAGE FOR  AUNT JUNE.

A small parade

Of sweetly potent decades:

Seven, eight, nine little dramas

Of triumphs and tears.

Our history holographed

 hieroglyphed   

upon the infinite mind

of the god within us.

Years

Once raucus rivulets  of youth

Now gently flowing

Into an endless ocean of truth

Our memories

Mere flotsam

Overcome by breaking waves

Then resurfacing to shape

What we have become.

So it is

We live the lives

That mold our souls

Touched

By those who love us

And touching them in return;

If only in the sanguine sojourn

Of retrospect.

Karen R. Springer

Terrance Charles Short comes to us from Mission, British Columbia, Canada.

He can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Ogreatbaldone

False Profit

His opulence dripped 

like mortuary flowers,

heavy scented, masking death

in a lonesome funeral chapel.

His rampageous riches dangled 

from wrists and neck. rapturous

was the gaze he threw upon the world-

this simpleton in sheep's clothing.

Gathered together beneath the tent

his religious tirade reaches them-

they are estranged from God. he screams

and dances around with great hilarity.

Maintenance of the church falls to the faithful

though jaded and jagged be their lives,

though they are never far from the grindstone

they pay tithes to a pompous god man.

His pretentious prayer brings loose change jingles

into the musty spring night air.

A pre-selected hymn plays and I feel

the urge to Asphyxiate the asocial fraud.

Check him out.

Sue Cardwell comes to us today from the U.K. with a poem about child abuse.

Sue can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Sue%20Cardwell

And now to her poem:

 

A Tepid Existence

No little girl's room, the furnishings stark,

she’s left on her own, a child of the dark;

a tepid existence, love’s left no mark,

no feelings given, not even a spark.

No pretty check curtains, windows are bare

just a hard bed, an old wooden chair,

no toys to play with, nothing to share,

alone in her room, no one to care.

With tear stained cheeks, she tries to be brave

cowering from parents who just rant and rave,

though only a child, she’s more of a slave;

there is no way for this girl to behave.

In old tattered clothes she won't find a friend;

even her teachers have no hope to lend;

with feeding herself, she's left to contend.

There's no-one to love her, not even pretend.

Where is the warmth of one goodnight kiss,

just to be held, an undreamt of bliss;

these are the things that she’ll always miss;

how can a child be brought up like this?

Check her out.