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    • Killin’ time sippin’ whiskey

      At a bar on the boardwalk by the sea

      the jukebox keeps on playin’ visions of love

      and it takes me back to when I first saw you

      swayin' to the rhythm of the waves

      eyes as blue as the sea

      the wind in your hair

      pink ribbons everywhere

       

      I stopped to stare

      you did your best to make a boy aware

      your swayin’ arms reached out letting me in

      the touch of your hand calmed the storm within

      your shinning light touched my mind, body, and soul

      I saw it in your eyes

      I felt it from your heart

      Love was all around me

       

      You made it so easy

      the way you loved me

      made it so easy with every little thing you did

      Unconditional, unconditionally

      You loved me unconditionally

       

      We set sail upon the waters

      you were the wind in my sails

      drifting onto the sea of love

      tides rolled by, waves of love

      swept into my heart

      The smile on your face, your laughter

      brought me back from the depths of heartache and pain

      I felt alive for the first time in my life

       

      Anchored on the vessel of embodiment

      cherishing the freedom from within

      A rainbow appeared in the far horizon

      and that girl

       

      You made it so easy

      the way you loved me

      made it so easy with every little thing you did

      Unconditional, unconditionally

      You loved me unconditionally

       

       

       

       

       

       
      • 7 replies
    • illustrated by Robert g. Jerore

       

      The Violin

          It was an average size theater, capable of seating two hundred persons. Tonight it was filled to capacity. The variety of entertainment presented during this evenings program was very enjoyable. There had been two vocal solos; a small singing group; an orchestral presentation; twin pianos duet, and a flautist. The twenty minute intermission which allowed a comfort break was over, and the second half of the evenings program was near completion, except for a female violinist who was last on the program.

          Auditorium lights overhead dimmed.; muffled sounds emanating from the audience diminished except for an occasional cough. Dark red, velvet curtains slowly opened accompanied with faint clicking of a few worn rollers as they moved along the rail, from which the curtains were suspended. The crowd hushed...another cough.

          From the left wing of the stage a lone figure emerged, illuminated by a small spot light beaming down from overhead. He strode toward a Grand piano stationed at left-center of the stage. Placing sheets of music against the upright rest on the piano, he seated himself on a frail looking bench, raising slightly to adjust his tuxedo tails. Not satisfied, he raised and seated himself twice more, before looking beneath the key board. There he tapped lightly with his foot, on the pedals of the piano. Adjusting a small lamp above the music rest, he fingered through the sheet music assuring himself everything was in readiness. Finally, he nodded slightly toward the right side of the stage. 

          Behind the opened curtain at the right wing, a young woman appeared, carrying a violin and bow. Clapping of the audience began the moment she appeared. She was wearing a light blue, strapless gown that flowed like water around her lithe body as she moved. Another spotlight followed her; its beam causing tresses of her long blonde hair to gleam like spun gold; clapping continued. At center stage she turned toward the audience...bowing slightly, acknowledging their enthusiastic greeting. Slowly, the applause faded, there was quiet except from somewhere in the audience again a light cough.

          Turning toward the pianist she nodded. At first his fingers touched the ivory keys lightly, then grew more intense as he played the lead to her chosen song. Raising the violin, she placed it beneath her chin, nestling it against her slender neck. It felt cool there. Drawing the bow across its strings lightly; she persuaded the violin to speak, as only a violin knows how. Sweet strains poured forth from the instrument filling the auditorium with a near human-like quality. Crying softly at first...resembling a plea of pure loneliness. It moaned as though deeply wrought in sorrow, calling out to a lost lover, yet knowing there would be no response to its cries. Softly, its soulful anguish began to fade...
      • 2 replies
    • As One from the Snowfields
      AS ONE FROM THE SNOWFIELDS

       

       

      Route to Navajo Mountain,

      skitter of tumbleweed - land

      and sky merge

      like the face of Black God,

      shadowy arms

      canted to a common side.

       

      Sounds of the ceremony

      seal over distance

      threading pop and hiss

      of the engine with

      stars ascending

      paths the yeh-bi-chai took,

      footfalls mute litany

      along the galaxy’s ledges.

       

      Small beneath the long ruin

      of peaks

      the road finds

      the horizon’s shadow and follows.

      Beneath those bodies

      a man could walk

      to the cliffs’ forgetful darkness,

      that omnipotent mask.

       

      A car goes by, headlights

      soft probes on the highway.

      Exhaust spreads

      brief invisible fire in its wake.

      Killdeer’s voice

      starts from sleep at arroyo’s edge

      and finds me from far away –

      I am here! Here!

       

       

       

       

      previously unpublished
      © 2015 David W. Parsley
      Parsley Poetry Collection
      • 23 replies
    • A Shameless Plug for the Reference Section
      I know some of you occasionally scroll down to the reference section but naturally the primary focus here is the Member's Poetry which is as it should be.
       
      However, with the recent change of format at PMO, the reference section went through extensive "clean up" and a little reorganization. I am really pleased with how it has turned out. There is certainly more out there to research and I will add it when I find it (I am searching all of the time.) but I think most of whatever is out there about the craft of writing poetry has now been documented here.
       
      So if you have some time and are so inclined, scroll down the page check it out.. Or if you have writer's block and need some ideas to jump start your muse the world of poetry is a treasure box of ideas, maybe a new approach to an old idea is just what you need. See how the cultures of the world approach writing.....Explore the Craft of Writing From Around the World ...
       
      Pick a genre, pick a culture, pick a structure, pick a technique or meter, explore! You might find it fun … [click on the title to continue reading]
      • 4 replies
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