INDEX

The Moth
by Elizabeth Pride

   Shadows dance across the wall
jittery and exotic in the firelight
Eerie glowing from the ashes
as the fire glows with all its might

The moth flutters nearby, mesmerized
caught up sight an sound with the exotic
fluttering ever closer to the flame
hypnotized by all that is erotic

Too close - the flames lick out
hot enough to singe the fragile wings
closer still - the moth will surely perish
and as she dies she sings

"Twas the beauty that drew me near
and twas the rhythm that kept me here,
but twas my own lust that caused the sin
and my own actions that done me in".

INDEX

The Old Park Bench
by SpiritWolf

Old Men, with their game of cards...
A Nanny, walking her charge...
Children running, playing tag...
Crabby Woman, who loves to nag...

Local Bum, who knows no time...
Shoeshine Boy...works for a dime...
Nature Lover takes a walk...
The Shop Rat on his lunch from work.

Muddy Urchin climbs aboard,
Then jumps down without a word.
Homeless make a bed at night.
When it rains, there's no one in sight.

Daily it waits with open arms,
Welcoming all who come along.
Speaking not of what it sees...
The Old Park Bench under the trees.

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To Touch Within the Reflection
by slowhand60 ©

To touch within the reflection
serenades sung past a sunrise
tearing down old walls
that we’ve built form our former past,
and in the shimmering sun
a voice touches
a soul that is pure,
exquisite in its reflection,
weep a tear for its beauty,
whispers for those awakened times
unknown to those who refuse to look,
but that matters not,
for the twilight still reveals past a silent dream,
and the glory
is met
only in your eyes.

INDEX

SONNET 29 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desireing this man's art, and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least,

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state

(Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate

  For they sweet loveremembvered such wealth brings,

  That then I scorn to change my sate with kings

INDEX

HER ANXIETY  by W.B.YEATS

Earth in beauty dressed

Awaits returning spring,

All true love must die,

Alter at the best

Into some lesser thing.

Prove that i lie.

Such body lovers have,

Such exacting breath.

That they touch or sigh.

Every  touch they give,

Love is nearer death.

Prove that i lie

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THE TREES by PHILIP LARKIN

The trees are coming into leaf

Like something almost being said;

The recent buds relax and spread,

Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again

And we grow old? No, they die too.

Their yearly trick of looking new

Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh

In fullgrown thickness every May.

Last year is dead, they seem to say,

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.