Calm was the Sea
by Waitingsilence

Comment:
as it drowned me,
taking my life casually,
not looking,
between whatever things it was doing.

Drivin' Along A Country Road
by Refocused

Comment:
is like goin' to an art show:
a whirlpool of broken glass beneath a fallen willow,
the strokes of squirrel tails,
leaves upturned like armada sails,
the artfully blank canvas of a field of corn
with subtle variations of tone.
It makes you want to stop the horse, step down
and meet the artist, but he left town.

The City At Night
by GeorgesBogaert

Comment:
I feel the stories blend together
like buildings at dusk,
and then when I'm about to lose them
they light up.

Entering the city at night
you see only ideas
outlining the concrete.
You buy a ticket. That's how you pray.

Song of the Hummingbird.
by JayneRyan

Comment:
To wit, the red,
to wing nectar,
a drunken bed,
a bud vector.

May I suggest
places purple,
an angel's nest,
honey hurdle.

About Paradise
by Pascal

Comment:
It's not everything you hoped for.
The service isn't great,
they don't think you need anything.
The prices are absurd.
You laugh at them.
You sound like a Hummel gazelle
rolling down the stairs.

Their bare feet
by lei_73

Comment:
They were told not to walk in their bare feet.
They were warned of microorganisms.
They heard the whisper of sharp things.

But then the sun colluded with the grass,
shoes peeled away,
and summer asked them to the dance.

If I Were...
by Mond

Comment:
If I were me I would do my job,
I would sleep in my bed,
I would love my family,
I would pet my dog,
I would vote my conscience
and believe my beliefs.

If I were the sky I would be blue above me,
offering clouds, massaging solar panels,
drape flatly over heaven, pin down
my horizon.

If I were not I would anything,
empires would fall, a disaster of paradises
would clutter my empty will.

The Locust
by mefnj

Comment:
The locust is created from adolescence by desire.
Anything else is merely a grasshopper.
The locust isn't like a mouse, indifferent to the disease it carries.
Without a plague, there is no locust,
flying over anxious miles,
rolling over vibrant fields,
spattered brightly on rotting barns

The Conductor
by Judi

Comment:
A giant marsh bird, wings outstretched,
waits for the melody to come around,
then waves as though he makes the sound,
resolved to orchestrate this mess.

Narcissus
by Bear_Music

Comment:
Reflections in Water with Woodies. hahahaha well done