From the Valentine's Day Write-a-Thon

I am a hot mess.

I hope thou can loveth me,

Because I can sing.

Done in 30 seconds

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Sorry Valentines that I have been busy and it is too late to send a card.

I will give you a kiss that you make you tard.

Give me a present and you will be pleasant

Balloon by Kyongtaek Mun

When I was 17 I met a girl who I loved the most in my life

Everything was black and white except the girl.

So I blew the balloon with my love bigger and bigger.

Because I believed bigger balloon would show bigger love.

But my balloon popped up because it was too big.

After first love my second love came to me.

At this time I decided to blow a balloon very little because I was afraid that it would be popped up again.

But the balloon dropped to the ground and popped up because there was enough air in it.

Now I am still thinking how big balloon will be appropriate.

Any advice?

He is My Heart's Friend by Leslie Rish

Fair is the white star of twilight and the sky's clearer at the day's end

But he is fairer and he is dearer

He is my heart's friend

Far starts and fair in the skies bending.

Lower stars of hearth fires and wood smoke ascending.

The meadows- lark nested

The nights hawk is winging

Home through the star-shine the hunger comes singing

Fair is the white star of twilight and moon roving

To the sky's end

But he is fairer, better worth loving he is my heart's friend

Awaken by Chris Migliore

As if a crudeness awoke-

Suddenly…

Out of a dark, crusty dawn.

It summons the new unforeseen wave

Of reality, out of an unpalatable fate.

Like Ausable…

Our fate--

Stuffed constantly

Into a purgatory of a decaying river’s beauty.

It now growing like a moss into the stillness,

Of its unforgettable innocence.

Now, at a time-

Of its bottomless peace…

It’s disturbed by death,

A world of changelings within

And,

Its encroaching past and thriving future.

A vigil of hopeful futurism,

It seems to emanate

Over fate and hope.

Reality says-

 It only takes a moment

For the destruction of a life,

The breath of life

Once, twice, thrice… in a lifetime?

Fate needs to be nurtured, not broken

To be firm, not uprooted.

To be settled, not dredged up.

One’s caring attitude must come alive

So depressed thoughts disappear-

Our Eminence watches over all,

With faith. love and hope.

Comparing lives in dismal futures to a dying river called the “Ausable” in Pinery Provincial Park, Canada in July, 1989.

Copyright 2010 @ Chris J.P. Migliore

Temptation by Meggan Jacobsen

 I felt it swell in the darkness, I heard it raise in the night
a spot on a bolt of velvet, a mark on young skin white.
Into the depths it beckoned, from whence it stood I could hear
Its downy tongue in the distance, veiled lies behind the clear.

An army of evil intentions, with a grip ‘round my throat so tight
its roots in the air enfold me into a cosset of black delight.
I reach away past the foggy void, for there’s an inkling in my veins
but its clouded memory cannot enforce a rule that no longer remains.

But still I stand in its shadow, as the stabbing beat matured
mocking me with its gleaming teeth, and it’d not yet said a word.
A smile of silk my lips became, to meet it with a reply
a pledge in a passionate moment, an escape all reason defied.

Now I am caught in the coppice, flailing happily in its viscous high
I am a note on the edge of a symphony, a sob on the end of a cry.
I am a bird in the air on a stream of lace,
I am a ripple of infinite size,
a stag whose dazzling sheen beguiles with foaming mouth and golden eyes. 

Yet then its fangs of death release, too soon and still too late
you’ve sampled the seductive fruit whose seed will grow to hate.
Its wayward wiles have captured you, seized all that you own
Be wary, oh, friend I implore you! - for you know not where it roams.
Its textured cries will fool you, with a layer of weeping so deep...
that naught but God alone can stand a vice so terribly sweet.

Money Can't Buy Her Love by Leslie Rish

(Response to Valentine’s Day Research/Write-a-thon prompt)

When love finds one’s heart, it does not matter what your social standing is; it matters not your economic level.

           

When love finds your heart, even the most noble woman will give it all up to be with the one her heart belongs to. It matters not if he is a common man who has little to offer, other than his never-dying love.

           

Love knows no bounds and cares not where you live, your age or your social level. It only knows the affairs of the heart.

That’s why a noblewoman will give up everything for a common man.

The Helper by Chris Migliore

The Lord is so sorry

For who will be missed.

But Jesus asked,

“Father, what can we do?”

There are so  many down there,

 In so much trouble.

So, St. Peter thought,

Who are the Lord’s winged helpers,

“We all know who you are,

 We just need one more…”

Well,

He picked one so willing,

So pure in heart.

And, Oh, so ready for such an assignment.

And, since he found someone who deserved a break,

He picked the one called~

“Angel.”

For that seemed right,

And Oh, so perfect!

Written at the death of my cousin, Angel, who was my age (40), and who died of cancer after a few remissions.

I dedicated this to her two small children in 2003.

Copyright 2010 @ Chris J.P. Migliore

Sweet Summer Memories by Chrissy Maher

The hot summer sun beating down on the crystal water

Birds chirping in the distance

The wind blowing lightly through our hair

Squirrels chasing each other around in circles

Lying on the beach blanket, drinking ice cold water

Our feet sinking in the warm sand as we walk along the beach

Your eyes, blue like the sky enveloping us

Your rugged look, so dashing and strong

Your arms so strong and comforting

Your sense of humor tantalizing

Sounds of the tide washing up on the shore

Birds singing in the trees above us

Sounds of children playing in the yards

Screams of splashing pool water

Sounds of parents yelling, “It’s time to eat” to the many children playing in the street

Your laughter, contagious

The sound of your heartbeat, soothing

Sweet smells of roses blossoming in the front yard

The wondrous aroma of suntan lotion on a laughing baby

The sensuous smell of your cologne takes me away

The mint scent makes me feel warm and close to you

Your handsome features, wrought with mystery

Sourness of ice cold lemonade made fresh just moments ago

Tangy taste of a grape Popsicle creeping down your arm

Hot sun beating down on our bare shoulders

Pool is cool and refreshing

The soothing feel of the air conditioner as we enter the house overtakes us

Peaceful summer day

I Am Thankful by Ed Bellman

I am thankful for my legs, as they let me walk

I am thankful for my hands, as they allow me to feel

I am thankful for my nose, as I can smell the flowers that are in the field

I am thankful for my tongue, as I can taste the fruit that God gives me

I am thankful for my eyes, as I can see the color God painted across his garden

and yet, when I walk into the house of God, I have

mud on my shoes. When I speak, filth in my words. When I think,

poison in my mind. And inside, sin in my heart.

But even through this, God loves me. Do you know why God loves me?

Because he gave me these legs, so that I can walk the path of righteousness

He gave me these hands, so that I may clean myself

I have this nose, so that I can smell the sweetness of right, and the decay of wrong

He gave me this tongue, so that I can refuse Satan and his demons

He gave me these eyes, so that I can be blinded by his holy presence

I have all of these tools because God loves me

With these tools I can wipe the mud off my shoes, clean the

filth from my words, cure the poison from my mind,

and purge the sin from my heart.

It is easy to be thankful for what you have, but the

real challenge is being thankful for what you don’t have

City Visits in Summer by Hillary Mulka

The sidewalk is full of busy people and the sun shines down in the heat.  
 

I search for you, watching for the red hair to stand out among the beige and grey waves of concrete.  Cars jostle for position on the street.

Footsteps fall hard and quick on the ground as I run towards you.  I see you grinning wide, even from a distance.

We laugh together as I leap into your arms, your breath escaping when I squeeze you too tight.  There it is; the smell of you that I hadn’t smelled for months.  Your beard tickles my cheek.

Your hand holds mine, tighter than ever before and you never stop smiling.

Your head and body stay turned toward me, like you fear you’ll forget what I look like even in glancing away for a just a second.

We share our favorite celebration drink together.  I can taste the sweetness on your lips when we kiss.

It is so warm and comfortable, falling asleep together after staying up too late.  Your grip lingers around my waist, even while you sleep, like you don’t want to lose me in a sea of sheets.

The Travels of a Bouquet by Ginger Schmandt

White, clean, cold snow… clinging to the old gray stairs.

Up them I could hear footsteps.

Footsteps followed by a quiet tapping on my door.

Music in my living room, children outside screaming into the snow … tap, tap, tap, again.

Cars driving through slush … I am silent … listening … his voice outside, “It’s me.”

I heard his voice and melted.

I opened the creaky front door to the clean smell of freshly fallen snow.

His presence left me temporarily speechless.

“What is he doing - this crazy man!?”

Bright blue eyes meeting my surprised look.

He sported the most loving smile I have ever seen as he witnessed mine.

I pulled him into my home from the freezing elements.

The chill entered as the warmth exited.

                                               He handed me flowers as we hugged like we had never done.

There was a chill on the outside of his coat … his arms were so inviting.

The taste of a snowflake on his shoulder, and fresh coffee on his lips I will never forget.

And then the flowers, bright, colorful flowers

A crackling of plastic

Holding together such beautiful colors

Fresh smelling flowers

The beautiful flowers and your lovely words made me cry.

Our hug was as close as the bunched flowers

I did not want to let go

The softness of your hands after removing them from your gloves

Were softer than the bouquet that traveled to me.

Love by Anonymous

Love

Warm, Strong

Kissing, Praying, Wanting

Heart, Mind, Tough, Gifts

Forgiving, Hurting, Accepting

Vulnerable, Aggressive

Lust