Venezuela's Angel Falls cascade down my face
When I think of you my love
I can only imagine how you must have felt
When your seedlings were uprooted from fertile ground before they could sprout
It must have reaped your womb apart to see them depart
Your memories of them fading with each sunset as you wondered if they've been watered and fed compost
I know this because
When you finally found them you watered them with a bucket full of love and compost big enough to fertalise the whole village

Her beauty is a refraction of the sun's warm and gentle touch. Without his light, she would not know here or there, whether there is movement or if she is stationary. She sees herself in his light, and she is seen. She turns the lights out to reacquaint herself with the reality she once knew, it seems the further she gets from the light, the farther it takes her when she steps into the spotlight. She feels overwhelmed and the crowd is raised from the depths as she is propelled into that light... another day... another night...in another life

On a dark, gloopy, Anti-Matter Planet (AMP)
Oscillating in an alternate universe,
A Judicial Provost (JP) from the Department for Artistic Development (DAD)
Described one aspiring laureate as a “pontificating twiddler”.
Another poet he described as a “pretext for a prig”.

The Judicial Provost praised Wordless, Shakenwords and Jon Wood Knot.
He lambasted free verse and decried Wallace Whitwoman and Esmerald Tonne.
He spewed upon contemporary verse,
In all its manifest forms.

Justice
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

*Content Warning*
Intimate partner violence and abuse

I know that there will never be justice.
What would justice even be?
He will never have to live in this world after being dismantled as a human being. After being chipped away at piece by piece until he doesn’t even recognize himself.

There's A Shady Grove Where The Morning Sun Gives Birth, 'Neath The Boughs Of A Sycamore Tree Where It Teases Mother Earth,

Where The Dew Drops Glisten On To The Grassy Verge And The Ants In Frantic Cycle,
As To Their Lives Purposeful Worth,

"Old Shep " Walks By As To Survey His Dominion, This Empire Soon To Awaken To His Heirs Timely Arrival,

His Majestic Prescence In This Perfect Morning Glory, Wary Of Unwelcome Foe's And Un witting Rivals,

Should I recall those blissful times
When we like climbing flowers entwined;
Our blossoms scented evenings air
As Love and Lust forsook our cares.

Your laugh was soft and gentle,
A butterflies wings in spring,
Dancing on the sunbeams
Enough to make me sing.

Eyes so bright they sparkled
Diamonds on moonlit snow;
Flashing hither and thither
To make my pulse race so.

We held each other gentle
Yet tight so not to break,
Though deep, our love could never last,
Different paths our lives would take.

Daffodils...those early spring gossips which come to tattle on summer every
year, are my favorite flower.

Don't get me wrong, crocus, tulips and others have been known to gossip and
tattle as well.

Every spring I listen as the flowers tell their tales, the birds vocalize their
wisdom, while the sun brings forth precious rays to offer encouragement to all.

It seems as though every season has its gossips who find it necessary to tattle
on the season ahead, also on one another.

She could not stop questioning why I loved her.
How could I choose her? She used her scars as weapons,
cutting the offering into ribbons of doubt and hesitation,
never able to accept my assurances with her cutlass drawn.

The darkness breaks, the dawn arrives
the blackened night confounded.
The spirit voice, which speaks within
consoles and is resounded!
Gently now, it calls to you
comforts and surrounds you.
The guilt you feel is swept away.
Release the past behind you!
Your memory the battleground
no longer seeks to find a cure
accepting natures calling!

Out of the darkness, he pulled me
with all his strength and grace.

He swept me up and carried me
through the fire.

He tore down my walls and
Used the stones for our foundation.

His hand kisses my cheek
And wipes away the tears

He tends to my wounds
And holds me as I heal

Forged in fire
Our bond is unbreakable

Blessed am I,
For I know love in its purest form