Gary Leavens | CC BY-SA 2.0

Listen to the thrush
in the bush —
he is singing.
Ah! how he sings!


source

Here’s a palm
merits alms
— the strong arm
of psalms,
steeped in balm,
to calm:
healing harm,
stilling alarm;
without qualms
in animal farms
’midst a storm
of napalm —
once a schoolmarm,
now cool and warm
works like a charm
— Salaam —


Mysianne | CC BY-ND 2.0

Walk
barefoot
on bedewed
grass
at dawn,
sit
beneath
a tree’s
freshening
breath
at dusk,
beside
a stream
flowing
crystal,
grow
young
constantly.


Billy Wilson | CC BY-NC 2.0

Music
is emotion
perpetual,
silver chord
divine:
eternal note
that unfroze
celestial
architecture
of the spheres:
the key
that unlocks
forever flow’ring
heart
choral
— still —


Anita | CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Return to belief, clay sculpture with a spark burning like an eternal lamp,
Return swift as a swallow;
Cease to disregard the magic mirage in the mirror of your inner soul as one of many —
Recognize it as the surface of images.
Remove those rose-tinted glasses through which you see miracles performed with perplexity,
Discover things to be taken for granted;
Let not dreams of purple eyes of a she from Montevideo darken your doorways to dreams
And cold corridors of thought;
Discard the shackles of kinds of progress and their illusions of advancement
For the content you seek.
Remember a milky ring circling the moon when…


Brookhaven National Laboratory | CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The glacial shift
of seconds
snaps taut
against the sky,
a cutting edge
on target
— sunlimned and scream
aslice, my silhouette
races the razorback
in chosen
golden flight
for a matter of minutes
— moving
in an eggshell crack,
the edge
of the world.


nrg_crisis (off and on) | CC BY-NC 2.0

In a pause,
a lull
full of movement,
a season
came and went
without moment —
crossroads,
ways and means web
the vista
with a horizon,
always: one more
port of call,
cul-de-sac
havens
tossed for —
heads you win,
tails I lose.


Harald Henkel | CC BY-NC 2.0

Say, where would omens be
if there were none to see
and recognize signs?
Do omens bind?
Apart from those who believe
there can be no reprieve
from the foretold fate,
are there those who animate
a prophecy till it is tangible?
Or is that the fate of the gullible?

Tyrone Graham for Poetry in Form.


West Point — The U.S. Military Academy | CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Maybe the day
To cast aside and blow wide
Pride that will not last,
Past prejudice and the ideas
You choose
To use in having your way
Lay waiting to tear loose,
Fuse with courage and stay
Strong as long
As night at distant poles.
Goals may stay as bright
As light, but the roles
Ways play
Turn sour, and all those
Opposing change will learn
To spurn loyalty to forces
Gone wrong,
As all who own to no mistakes
Forsake the steps to scale the walls
Enthralling their stiff-necked makers.

Tyrone Graham for Poetry in Form.


Amy B | CC BY-NC 2.0

I bask in the sun each day,
singing a prayer of thanks,
soaking up each golden ray
overflowing its warm banks:
like a river running wild —
a life-giver to this child —

Tyrone Graham for Poetry in Form.

Tyrone Graham

In the beginning was the word. And I got paid for it.

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