Daily Verse
Week 4, August 2023
That's why I like toys
By Gregory Arena 25th August 2023,
That’s why I like toys.
They’re holy relics
From a future church’s sanctuary
To give us knowledge and hope.
Wine and water, water and wine,
Something divine and forever,
Little treasures of infinity
Poems
By Jennifer Gurney, 22nd August 2023
That deep-breath moment
Of lacing up your courage
And taking a step
Languidly I wake
Stretching in the luxury
Of time
Mama and baby doe
Frolicking together
In early morning rain
Loss
By Nigama RV 23rd August 2023
Weeping to the heart’s loss
Furious at the life’s deception
Suppressing the mind’s groan
One moment, blaming the fates
Ruthlessly accusing self
Reluctant to the separation
Waiting for the chaos in silence
Hoping for the peace
But my heart and mind are numb
Of feeling any emotions
Regretting being ever born,
Raw with pain, exposed to the reality
Wrapping myself tightly
Wishing your hands around
Coz only you meant the world
Greedily catching the moments
I lose myself into you,
Over and over, again...
Joyful Journey
By Sasha Clark 22nd August 2023
The rock feels an impulse
The nature of the rock is to go slow
An impulse can last decades
The rock begins to lean down the mountain
Slowly
Bit by bit the rock slides down
Rain helps the rock on its journey
The rock feels joy in its progress
It doesn't worry the decades away
It is happy just to be
A young boy plucks the rock from the ground
to show his father the wonderful agate
he just found
Finally the journey is complete
The joy of the rock is shared
The Short burn of our together
By Bobby Parrott
Our bones are made of compressed grasshoppers
who, though their mouths work side-to-side
instead of up and down, have forgotten how to
coax electric eels out of their inflatable wading
pool jail cells. Hence a redundancy. To electrocute
the unscrupulous, a toy camera beyond broken
lets a kite string snag and splay branch-tips
of stop and ego, where we climb a rickety ladder
into the yew just to sharpen our hearts
on splinters of forget. So why is it that now
as you speak, your eyes contradict your mouth
as its moon-monopoly turns intentions
wormward? And what's with your shoulders? Must
they tilt words, flip wrenches into the sentences
left blinking in this verbal combustion? And please
don't simmer our love to less than never. Smallness
grows us to enclose a forested cosmos, where love
is less unreal than dismember, and even the shortest
strings blind vibrations. But to slip that diamond
spear into my bark is to purr over your sliver
of tinder, fashion our music to a world more singular.