Simple White and BlueGaetano LardieriI see a light outside Cast through the dust that’s on my screen I’m feeling satisfied ‘Bout time I learned just what that means Open my window high And listen clear to what I see Soft windblown lullaby A song that plays just for me Oh what a time I’ve had Within this place I’ve found no bad I could lose myself right here I’ve seen it all I’ve got no fear And now my eyes gaze through Staring at the simple white and blue Soft rain has found its place That light has left and gone away Dispel my rage and grace Before that feeling falls astray In here I’ve found no fears Just thoughts of worlds that we could build A world without a tear A hope that just might be fulfilled I hear a blue bird in the sky Engulf my feelings in it’s cry Hoping that I won’t forget These moments set to happen yet Right through my screen my eyes gaze through Staring at the simple white and blue Winter Slide showCaitlin Meyera fight, a god, a martyrGwen Bernici lay face-down in the sharp winter grass, chest pressed into the heavy, frozen dirt. i will myself to feel it. to get up. i dig my fingernails into the ground. your skin pink, blushing-- i will myself to forget. i come back inside fourteen days later with my fingers black and my heart undone. i sit on the lip of the counter in my mother’s kitchen, the cast-iron pans and the tiled floors, your memory on the back wall. i turn all of the burners on and the oven up to 400. i black out watching my hands bend in the thick heat of pity. my ghost leaves, sits awake on the brown leather couch in the dead of night. i wake next to her, crying. i left behind the person i was. my mistake. i let time in, sit in the shallow end of the ocean, split myself in two. somewhere else, i prop up your corpse in my bedroom and sleep alone on the heavy leather couch. i lay on the red carpet in my mother’s bedroom. her shoes lined up by the door. i close my eyes, i breathe it in. i feel it. i write down my confession in pen on the wrong side of a bar napkin. streetlights and taxis, my fists in my coat pockets. itching for something. a fight, a god, a martyr, you. i smash the taillight on the back of my heart. i keep swallowing the blame of every bad thing that’s ever happened to me. i keep thinking about that car alarm, the rusted lamp post and your cold hands. i keep finding myself shivering, sitting on the front step of your frosted porch in the dark, willing you to come out. Little White OwlGaetano LardieriLost in the woods, with little to hear And though it grows dark I have not a fear FOr long have I wandered the paths of this place Familiar in scent, in feel, and in taste. Deep in the soul of the wood of these trees Beyond all the bark, lies memories And if they could I’m sure they might tell Of the birds they had met, of the three that had fell. I turn round the corner, surprised there to find A tiny white owl, unique from it’s kind It turns round to face me , it’s body faced front It sits there awaiting, prepared for some stunt. I stop where I stand for I don’t want to scare To make this small owl take off to somewhere So there we sit waiting, our eyes still are locked And the sunlight does go with the passing of the clock. A connection, through silence and both of us know That if we should move, the other will go But as it is dark, i turn to go home To leave my new friend to hunt all alone. In passing through trees on the path to my car I think of my friend, that bright white star And there on my roof like a light from the side There sits my friend, now along for the ride. Winter's GaleElizabeth McPhersonWhen Spring Did Come (rondeau redouble)Grace CliffordWhen spring did come, the first time, all alone I waited for some kind of errant peace, until, around us, crocuses had grown wherever all the sins of winter cease. The cold, cruel winds and ache that comes of freeze broke the glass beginnings I had sown. For want of knowing you I could not sleep-- when spring did come, the first time, all alone. I sat outside and listened to the drone of airplanes and the twilight-busy bees. I waited until something could be be known; I waited for some kind of errant peace. I thought that we could lay ourselves to sleep in some forgotten meadow far from home, and under frost abide the winter deep, until, around us, crocuses had grown. Were I a god, and all the earth my own, I would not seek, in twilight, your belief. My blessing would be tenderness of spring, where ever all the sins of winter cease. I lay without you and I dreamed of peace, my fingers broken and my name unknown, covered by the snow and lilacs fleet, my body stripped to nothing left but bone when spring did come. The Cold Grip of WinterChloe Wandless
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