Morning poem by John Horvath Jr

Morning Incomplete

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Along the seashore at the cabin muffled waves through night
Embrace us in our sleep brief unhurried ’til the morning light
Upon these empty sheets reveals the stains of love imagined.
Morning doesn’t give a damn for dreams of lovers parted.
Morning wakes and shakes fresh dew off all imaginings.
I can lie here, dream you lay beside me
Morning after morning after we have parted,
Turn to caress and taste your beauty,
Wake wet with tears from missing you, sigh
Like breezes born for nothing but an empty
Space to fill. Beside me you my emptiness must fill.

I will miss you, simple meters, reasoned rhyming,
Closure certain as the morning. Unwise, but I will
Miss you near to sunrise every morning,
At first light and in the darkness
Of my bedroom lonely; lacking kisses,
Shallow breathing become the slightest breezes
Laughing at me when I’ve risen, falsely risen early
Ready waiting for your eyes to open gently.
I will miss you in the morning.

Morning doesn’t give a damn for dreams of lovers parted.
You think that you are going someplace certain–so untrue:
You simply return unto that place where alone you started,
Where daily daylight stains you bleach away, half-hearted
Try recapture simple dreaming. Embrace the dreaming: hold
Off certainty of someplace solid nine-to-five and evenings lonely;
Doze ’til bedclothes cover over eyes that close, then come to me.
I shall take you with me, darling, to the dreamscape where we started–
It’s only morning that doesn’t give a damn for dreams of lovers parted.
Our dreams are conquests over limits,
together time and space in sleep are bested.

***

Till Death Do Us Part poem by Laura Greenall

Till Death Do Us Part
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The contract is over
In death we have parted
I am alone now
Alone and broken hearted
The poison drink is bitter
The pain of it cuts deep
But soon we’ll be together
I’ll join you in death’s sleep

If I should dream then
It will be of you
And now that the time’s come
I bid my life adieu

***

BLUES ON THE RADIO poem by Tony Nesca

BLUES ON THE RADIO
laura,
tears run silently down her
cheeks
coffee in front of her
old blues song on the radio
mom too tired and hungover
laura wanting happiness
wanting understanding
mom too tired and wasted
ain’t no purpose she says,
there ain’t none
mike at home lighting a
rock
tears on his cheek
heavy metal on the ghetto
no family
friends an illusion
“c’mon,’ says reggie,
“it ain’t so bad”
laura hands mom a smoke
mom shaking the hangover
chills
shaking hand lights a match
laura
looks out window
kids playing in the snow
mailman on corner blows out smoke
a firetruck makes its run,
ain’t no purpose she says,
there ain’t none
mike shakes reggie’s hand
“we’re not going to make it, are we?”
reggie smiles
laura cries
“no…”says reggie,
“but who the hell does?”

***

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT TOM WAITS ON THE STEREO Poem by Tony Nesca

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT TOM WAITS ON THE STEREO
out my window on the 18th floor
view of downtown skyline and
old warehouses of the exchange district
looks like chicago
beautiful and terrifying
urban madness
down at street level
hot summer night
some young punks get into
punching clawing beating
with vicious precision
ungrateful at their luck
of having been blessed with
geography
would you rather be in afghanistan?

the violence continues
i call the cops
i scream at the moon
STOP THE BULLSHIT
why, i say,
WHY?
there ain’t no solution
there can’t be
we were wired faulty from the beginning
it’s not about toxic emissions
or environmental rape
or serial killers salivating
at the
crotch
or planes slamming into the
world trade centre
or america with its hidden agendas
or canada with its indifference
or europe with its pseudo-sophisticated elitism
or street gangs running the streets
killing
like that’s all they know,
it’s about US
US,
every last one of us…

i look back down at
the street, the cops are hauling
the punks away
i smile,
there’s a knock on my
door,
mike says it’s time for a drink
“i got to tell you about emma” he says,
happy
red cheeks
electricity in his hair.
“let’s hear it” i say…

***