SUMMER LOVE - by Tanja Cilia

SUMMER  LOVE by   Tanja Cilia  I close my eyesAnd feel your salty lipsI reach out my handsAnd hear your voiceMingle with the wavesLapping on the shore Memories lingerLike tenuous beads of crystal dewOn silk-strand cobwebsAnd beads of sea waterCaught in your hairAnd glinting in the sun Our love is the concentric ripplesOf pebbles lobbedAs we play ducks and drakesAnd our laughterEchoes across this cornerOf the Mediterranean Each grain of sandShimmering in the sunOn a halcyon dayIs a precious momentWe have sharedBasking in forever My love for youIs infinite as the horizonMy wishes, hopes, and dreamsAre sunbeams swirling and dartingAmidst spun sugar cloudsIn the aquamarine reflections on the sea You are all my tomorrowsI love you

 

 

400: COMING HOME - by Dennis Lee

 

400: COMING  HOME   by  Dennis Lee You are still on the highway and the great light ofnoon comes over the asphalt, the gravelledshoulders. You are on the highway, there is a kind oflaughter, the cars poundsouth. Over your shoulder the scrub-grass, the fences,the fields wait patiently as though someonebelieved in them. The light has laid itupon them. Onecrow scrawks. The edgestake care of themselves, there isno strain, you can almost hear it, youinhabit it.  Back in the city many things you lived forare coming apart.Transistor rock still fillsback yards, in the parks young men do things tohondas; there will beheat lightning, beer on the porches, goings on.That is not it.  And you are still on the highway. There are nohouses, no farms. Across the median, past the swish and thud of thenorthbound cars, beyond the oppositefences, the fields, theclimbing escarpment, solitary in thebright eye of the sun thebirches dance, and theydance. They havetheir reasons. You do not knowanything.Cicadas call now, in the darkening swollen air there is dustin your nostrils; akind of laughter; you are still on the highway.

 

 

AN ELEGANT LADY - by Nic Hillen

 

AN  ELEGANT  LADY  by Nic Hillen An elegant beauty that's of her ownA caring heart a warming homeA radiant smile that touches the heartPassion is there right from the startHair stands straight down her shouldersLike the queens guarded soldiersComplexion that is diamond whiteLike falling snow on a winters nightHazel eyes, flecked with greenFlowing like and emerald streamA voice so soft gentle and; pureLike a calm wave sweeping a shoreLuscious lips smooth and tenderLike a marshmallows toasted centreRosie cheeks in tint with glowLike a robins breast on showshe has a style all of her ownA queen that reins upon her throne

 

 

 

THE LONELY BEACH - by Linda Harnett

 

THE  LONELY  BEACH  by Linda Harnett Oh, how I missed you, Lonely Beach,Where I have left my soul,The rugged rocks surround me,I sit there, lost, alone. Before me is the ocean,The stormy Irish Sea,It comes to me, I’m part of you,And know, you’re part of me. You send a wave to kiss my feet,And then you back away,You tantalise, you hypnotise,You hold me, make me sway. I grip the rock to steady me,Lest I fall in too deep,I’m lost in love for you now,The way back now, so steep. Another wave comes crashing,Bestows a gentle kiss,And now I get to taste you,You linger on my lips. I’m filled now with a passion,For you, I can’t ignore,I’m satisfied, contented,And leave you on the shore.

 

 

SAD SONG - by Rahel Bluwstein

 

SAD  SONG by  Rahel Bluwstein Do you hear me, you who areSo far away from me, my dear?Do you hear me crying aloud,Wishing you were well, wishing you were near? The world is vast, its ways diverse,Brief meetings, partings long,Men, with unsure feet, post on never to return, too weakTo find the treasure they have lost.My last day drawing nearOf the tears of separationI will await you untilmy life leavesas Rahel did her beloved.

 

 

BE NOT SAD - by James Joyce

 

BE  NOT  SAD   by  James Joyce Be not sad because all menPrefer a lying clamour before you:Sweetheart, be at peace again - Can they dishonour you ? They are sadder than all tears;Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.Proudly answer to their tears:As they deny, deny.

 

 

 

A SAD CHILD - by Margaret Atwood

 

A  SAD  CHILD by Margaret Atwood You're sad because you're sad. It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget. Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it was that was done to you the day of the lawn party when you came inside flushed with the sun, your mouth sulky with sugar, in your new dress with the ribbon and the ice-cream smear, and said to yourself in the bathroom, I am not the favorite child. My darling, when it comes right down to it and the light fails and the fog rolls in and you're trapped in your overturned body under a blanket or burning car, and the red flame is seeping out of you and igniting the tarmac beside your head or else the floor, or else the pillow, none of us is; or else we all are.