Friday, January 28, 2011


By Maxwell Cynn

I glimpse her hiding in the shadows, between a heartbeat and the next faltering breath. Her alabaster skin gives stark contrast to the black satin corset over her flowing black dress. Black lace and gossamer wings accentuate her onyx eyes. The pale beauty of her thin face, high cheekbones, and stringent jawline, frame her luscious lips. She smiles, a smile that would shame the full moon of October, and I forget to breathe.
I stare at her, my only thought a need to taste those lips, to feel her rapturous embrace. Her hand reaches out to me. Fingers as cool and fragile as a china doll trace the deep furrows in my aging flesh. I sigh, the last wisp of breath escaping my tired lungs. Her fingers pass through my graying hair soothing away all sadness. Her cool lips brush mine and blood pumps into my blushing cheeks. She is gone.
Like a fool I chase after her. We play our lovers' game like deer in the early spring. But it is late fall for me and the cold of winter descends like icy shards into my bones. Too many years of life have passed, too much hardship and pain. She comes for me and I reach for her embrace. Her kiss I fear and desire beyond reason; that cold eternal kiss. But she whispers in my ear, "Not yet, my love, not yet."

The way of things...Some thoughts about loss
By Alan Gilbert

I am not gone
Please never think me so,
The world must turn
Tides ebb, and spirits grow.
Our souls evolve
As everything must do,
Though bodies fade
My essence stays with you.
It's natures way
That everything must change,
All bodies grow
Then fall to rearrange.
But nothings lost
Just takes a different form,
Our souls remain
Complete as when we're born.
Some summer days
You'll feel me close at hand,
The softest breeze
That whispers in the sand.
A gentle touch
Much lighter than a kiss,
And you may know
That life is more than this.
So talk to me
And wait for my reply,
For every soul
Was given wings to fly.
And I will answer
Everything you say,
I won't forsake you
For a singe day.

Now and Then
By Joann Buchanan

Stone guards the part of my heart that holds 
my memories of you. 
I can't look 
for fear of breaking.

Life is anew now. 
Sweet and tender. 
Still I guard the walls 
that contain you. 

The pain of your touch 
and the scars you caused 
can never be healed. 

I move forward 
ever watchful over my shoulder 
Will you appear today? 

Forever hoping my new heart won't break 
the pieces stay together. 
Such is the sweet tender joy 
of my new life. 

Please dear walls 
Please don't break. 
Don't steal my life away.
a companion poem to Tami Snow's 'Gone'
by C. D. Bennett

Thoughts of you are whispers on the wind
Echoes of love too faint to recall
A smile at sunset
The sound of laughter in the hall
A knowing glance
A breathless dance

We were a spark
The world set to burn
Now with masks to hide our torment
Each of us now take our turn

We had our chance
You turned away
No mask can hide
What our souls did say

Another life it seems
Too far, so far away
When I reach for you there is nothing
Only memories, damn memories

I'm here
You're gone
Numb and speechless
I face the dawn

Without a word
With barely a tear
I can't help but wonder

Were you ever really here?
By Tami Snow

My head was filled with thoughts of you today. 
Creating your memory in a thousand different ways. 
The ease with which you'd make me laugh. 
Those things you'd do that made me gasp. 
And then I wondered... where have you gone? 

Not long ago you dangled my heart on a string. 
Filled me with happiness, caused me to sing. 
My world seems a little bit broken now. 
I'd paste it together if I only knew how. 
Oh, how I wish I knew... why have you gone? 

So empty and longing my soul has become. 
You were my morning, I'm blocking the sun. 
Wearing a mask of indifference, I hide. 
Protecting myself, retaining my pride. 
Hate to admit... It hurts me... now that you're gone. 

Eventually all of this pain will abide. 
My simple request, to once again fly. 
Till love and words once again bring back. 
Only one thing that would be torture to lack. 
Even through the agony, I’m glad you’re gone.

(see alternate ending on Slaves to the Muse)


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