Author: elopresto

“Little Partner” by Matt Longerbeam

“Little Partner” by Matt Longerbeam

In the early afternoon
if I am home
most often,
I’m on the front porch.
I sit there and I hope
that he will walk by.
Often he does,
on his way to work,
and I cherish those few moments.
Even though
he won’t talk to me,
he no longer knows
the strange old guy sitting there.
He only knows what he’s been told.
Years ago, he knew me well.
I took him everywhere I went,
my little partner,
and he looked up to me then
with such love in his little eyes.
Now I watch him passing
and I wonder,
can he feel the love I hold
for him,
or the pride that I have
in him?

The distance is so very small, but
we are separated by the years.
He goes by and my eyes follow
and as he gets farther down the road
he becomes smaller and smaller
in my watery eyes,
as did his knowledge of me
and his fondness for me
as the time passed.
Then he is gone from my sight
and I whisper to myself
I love you

-22 April 2016

“A Summer by the Sea” by Rebecca Strunk

“A Summer by the Sea” by Rebecca Strunk

Foot to sand, I remember
those days of long nights
and glorious days, filled with memories.
Of a person on the turf
swept to me, by the Caspian Sea.

To fill my world with new adventures.
Each getting better by every turn
hand to hand, foot to sand,
hopping over broken clam shells,
other little things we could explore, but don’t.

Watching the sun descend the horizon
we dive, the colors of the coral
exploding in our lives down here.
Above the glistening wonders
our lives continue up there,
now above us in the stars.

He pulls me against the current,
closer, closer, until I’m there.
The secret of him, told in no words,
but that dive told me everything.

“Send My Regards to the Wind” by Portia Dobrzanski

“Send My Regards to the Wind” by Portia Dobrzanski

The day had been worn down and left in pieces. Rain drops hurry down the window without any hesitation. I long to feel even the smallest ray strike my cheek, but I know all warmth has evaded me. A subtle residue is all that’s left of my better days. For just a minute, I swear I could remember what it was like to bask in the light with those I love most. I swear I almost could recall what it felt like to be refreshed by a cold breeze, without it forcing the hairs up from under my skin. My emotions have bound themselves to Earth’s erratic phases. With every gust of wind my heart lurches. With every icy drop my eyes pour out their secrets. I long to break free from this dreadful relationship. Oh, how I miss those better days.

Through the glass
The clouds — their impending cry
A dance I cannot escape

The wind throws me back and forth restlessly, but the tall trees remain still. Her bulging roots reveal past battles, a set of scars that make up her foundation. The branches that have fallen become a victim of Earth’s mighty breath as they are thrust against the base of the tree. Her rings tell stories of the many years she’s stood strong and her saplings promise to preserve her legacy. Come fall, the leaves will abandon the tree, leaving their mother barren and exposed. I think of the times when I, too, have changed. Who else had to endure the pain of my development? In that moment, I realized that the steps of growth I view as improvements may feel like a series of abrupt hurricanes to those that surround me. Change is inevitable, but growth is reserved solely for those who are willing to accept disaster as payment for their progression.

Branches sway
The one who has seen all
Warns only those who listen

I gaze into the pond, but the ripples hide its true contents. Bubbles of air rise and fall, as if the pond is breathing for its inhabitants. The surface appears still, but I know that beneath it, water flows brutally against the rocks and sand. The exterior glass reflects an image that I am reluctant to analyze. A sudden ray of light breaks through the top layer and distracts me from my vulnerability. It’s an entire world, completely hidden from all of nature. Those who stumble upon it are few and their discovery is always made without intention. I think of the little I have seen and how much I have left to experience. Until this day, an entire community of life has been living quietly without any familiarity from myself. Whether an overcrowded city or a minute blade of grass, each fragment of earth is a magnificent universe that I couldn’t possibly recognize.

Under my thumb
Life persists undisclosed
A small fish buried in blue satin

“Turbulence” by Matt Longerbeam

“Turbulence” by Matt Longerbeam

I stand at the window
staring at the rusty leaves
as they spin in ever widening circles.
Just above my lawn
they are dancing with the wind
but my thoughts are miles away
with her
and the argument.

A battle waged long distance
via the telephone
she has cursed me
and hung up
has said we’ll never speak again.

Then suddenly the cell,
still in my shaky hand
rings out her reconsideration
and my train of thought
is blown away.

Just like those autumn leaves
caught in the strong gusts
outside my window
beneath the cold, grey sky.

-24 Sept 2016

“Cruel Illusions” by K.E. Shea

“Cruel Illusions” by K.E. Shea

Dreams are cruel illusions
that trick the mind at night.
Displaying either fears
or wishes in your sight.

I can’t dream lucidly.
I am never aware
when my logic is trapped
until day in a snare.

No matter how insane
a dream’s setting may be,
I’ll believe everything
my mind has to show me.

For years, I dreamt of love
so sweet and beautiful.
Just two against the world,
a bond not usual.

In those dreams, there was bliss
as we stood united.
Before the kiss I woke,
love still unrequited.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that toy with all your hopes.

Once, I dreamt of a man
whom I’ve seen in this place.
Something about him leaves
a smile on my face.

I got the courage to
ask him what he thought of me.
But before he answered,
daylight set my mind free.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that know you’re curious.

Often, I dream that my
Grandfather is alive.
To speak with him again
for two years I have strived.

As I meet him again
he usually says,
“I just went away for
a while, I’m not dead.”

But then our time runs out,
and I’m alone in bed.
I think of him often,
and the kind things he said.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that remember your loss.

As I get out of bed,
I go on with my day.
But deep down in my mind,
the sadness and pain stays.

Yes, dreams are cruel illusions,
from them we cannot hide;
for your dreams must reveal
all your troubles inside.

“Wondering” by Heather Wallen

“Wondering” by Heather Wallen

Just wondering if you compare her to me
Like I compare him to you
Wondering if you revert to bad habits and bite your nails
Like I pick at the scabs on my arms when I think of you
Wondering if you buy her that same perfume
that you loved on me.
Wondering if she reads you her selfish love poems
and wondering if you hang on her every word
Wondering why I can’t get you out of my head
Wondering if you even wonder about me at all
Do you remember it the same way I do?
How we moved too fast and scared each other
How after we separated we ran as far away from home as possible
Wouldn’t admit that they were right about us.
Honestly they didn’t know anything but the lies we told them.
You were the first real love I tasted
First real war I felt inside
First time I saw a soul ripped out through the heart
I made you crazy
But you drove me insane.
Then again this isn’t about the fighting,
though remembering it makes missing you easier.
This is about the sickness I feel when I think about the horrible things we did to each other.
The lies we told
I’m sorry for that
I’m sorry thinking about you makes me want to be medicated
The idea of us meeting again is a trigger I didn’t know I had.
The idea of seeing those eyes, those lips…
God, your voice…
For a moment I’d get lost in you again, I know it.
The way you smelled after you’d walk home in the rain
The way tobacco didn’t taste so bad to me if it came from your lips
The way your laughter infected me
I’d think of the ways you used to love me
I’d wonder why we ever strayed so far from love
Then I’d remember
and I’d suffocate.