Benjamin Lawrence (19) – winter love

i have heard people say
they compare their love to a summers day,
but i will now say
i compare you to a late winters morn
bright sparkles full of beauty

a wind that blows taunting like you taunt me
ice frozen into mirrors hard yet easily broken,
just like the front you use to hide your emotions
and the first signs of spring adding energy
that animates your actions

but know while my heart beats
you will be more special than any winters day
and will have a special place in my heart
where you shall stay for eternity

by my son Ben who would love some feedback 

William S Burroughs – The Junky’s Christmas

the santa is coming

nsa tinsel and filament devices
elves a watching facebook and twitter
the santa is coming
who has been naughty or nice
on sled pulled by drones
war on terror so far unfinished
bringing gifts to a hurting poor
low pay, taxation and what of medicare
food bank turkey in a suspicious world
ho ho ho
debt advice and feeling jolly
check the tree for gps and listening devices
holly wreath marks the door
apocalpyse around the corner
automatic rifle and several handguns
a thousand tins of beans
wal mart generation
in a generation x world
fattened wealthy bulls work the market
bonuses pour from the sky
the santa is coming
ho ho ho
with foreclosure signs
and spooks past and present
the santa is coming
you must feel joyful and triumphant
hand on heart god bless everyone
one and all
primaries and elections
next on elves agenda
so use your time
and think
what do you want
ho ho ho

 

winters fold

sticky beaked crow

raucous over winter berries,

as i ran on frosted ground

grass unlikely to bend

silvered instead of green,

clouds would shake

their snow soon

blanketing and forming

a soft landscape for me

in snow,

i was protected

the chill and damp

reddened eyes and nose,

sticky beaked crow

a shadow on the ground

lengthening under a low sun,

my shadow would be longer

one day,

for now i was content

to lay upon my back

feeling spread of arms and legs

as i be came an angel

dVersePoets

For Those Today

that be idle on

half dreamy air

at evenings rise and wonder

near hearts gather

kin and kisses

sweetness not grown cold

gather and share

in touched whispers

vast spread of turkey trimmings

indulge in wine and pudding

near to unbroken

given to each other

 

 

 

Woman As A Season

a woman has a correct eye

one that penetrates deep

between lines of sunlight

reading clouds, tasting air,

flavor is there

cool musty lychee dawn

fleshy pulp of golden coming,

resonant sounds filled the clouds

adding iron to the silence,

winter was a long breath away

autumn came first,

shed of green leaves burn bronze

streams fill and swell

nature laying down

a woman has an automated touch

fingertip brush that works the earth,

cooling firm soil

soon discover frost,

suspended as belief,

apples and cinnamon

warm pie and ale,

ashes in fire rekindles embers,

forests lay paths of leaves

moist and cling to feet,

then dry curling crisp,

kicked into piles by laughing children

a woman has a malleable heart

shaped and formed on whispered breath

clouded from mouth in morning,

days shorten,

clock has no time

fingers bent in persuasion

to the season,

she found a place now

a place she liked,

glad summer was evaporating

in it’s own heat,

and winter held it’s snow at bay,

she related to this

feel and consider her life

a moment at a time,

autumn was her time,

her time alone and here she

remained

Spring Crocus

 

 

Words by Chris Lawrence Photograph by Karen Lawrence http://karenlawrencephotography.wordpress.com/

Wendels Elm Moment

the leaves on the tree

are thinking of falling,

boats burn on lake at night

as descending sun

gives a moment,

the surge in your fig eyes

brings the languish

of body and spirit,

sweet seasons juice

almost quenched,

bringing bitter almonds

to my heart,

music dense in bone

we have to expect a something new

tentative bridges to fragile blue ice,

the surge will come

i will be at your door

under shivering boughs

backlit galvanized lights

fold into the night,

for it is to come,

but for now,

as silent gardens ponder

vague unfamiliar shapes,

the song still plays

as a moth takes descent,

it is a lonely outpost that i

maintain.