Submissions still closed. Pieces added to the gallery only at my request, based on nothing more than the whim of the founder.
Oh, the pent-up frustration. I'm feeling better already.
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Under WaterUnder Water by RichardLeach
I jumped and then I sank too deep.
I do know how to hold my breath
but the surface is too far away.
It happened on an August day.
I should have drawn a deeper breath.
I jumped and then I sank too deep.
A cruise for tourists round the bay -
a chance to sit and catch one's breath.
But now the surface is too far away.
The young crew with a sense of play
anchored for us to swim, no less.
But when I jumped I sank too deep.
I will not exhale, will not inhale,
I hold my breath, I hold my breath,
though the surface is too far away.
I break the surface. All is okay.
I take a breath, I take a breath.
And who has never sunk too deep
and found the surface too far away?
Splinter helixEMBRYOSplinter helix by neonxaos
a derelict building shifts its swollen form
wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows
nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres
the child of paint and pastel colours stirs
searching blindly for that energetic outside world
it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake
Tell me where you come from, what you remember
of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind
understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches.
You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and
you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above,
longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun.
the twisting flesh of the whistling tree
blankets the screaming mud with salt
in a lush park tended by arthritic backs
an old man sits with a young girl
as devils arc their spines within smiles
they discuss the taste of snow
They know the end grows high, grows nigh,
outgrows the star dome like parasite patchwork.
The invaders never came, they were the ground stones,
Prufrock processed 01Etherised upon a table in a much-deserted streetPrufrock processed 01 by LancelotPrice
being carved and spoken of by Michaelangelo
The cheap hotel we'd been in
the smog-stained yellow window glass
Back then there was a time
Back then was time for time
For being loved by sculptors
who would shape one's self to form
One form only to last forever
and end time
Fleshless form so hard and slippery
sliding quickly off the hotel terrace
cracking in a thousand fissures
sliding down the street
with only yellow smoke to hide in
yellow fog to grease the way
fleeing from Michaelangelo
escaping from his love
Reaching now the seashore
Paddling out beyond the surf line
Hairless arms so stiff and clumsy
Catch a wave and
with broken limbs
Thrown off and falling
Ground down on shore to sand
to beach and bottom of the sea
water processspirit-sloth and overdone;water process by riparii
wonder-lost and undercome:
you are trenchant, sweet love.
you planted early mornings-
I lay coffee-drunk and thin;
the stir of your brown hands.
Questions For JulietWhy, on the fiftieth anniversary of my body,Questions For Juliet by brassteeth
does my youth come
to attack me? Perhaps it senses my
age-born weakness, this heart is a limping gazelle.
But I will always remember you standing
on that balcony,
watching me slowly walk away. Some
nights more than others,
the moon would cast
more of your wonder towards me,
a glorious bounce of beauty.
And even in the dark,
even from the road,
I could list your perfections.
smile, nose, ears,
frown. That list was a circle. Infinite.
I never knew a feeling like that before,
Love. fell hopelessly short.
From that opening scene in a young life
Love was a word.
This is my heart.
I prayed you my specific disease but would have settled
for fondness, likeness. Would have bartered
with even a devil for pity, so desperate was I
for only you. Juliet, even that
would have caused
my heart to burst.
And do you remember
I walked away backwards,
so I could watch you holding the rails? Before
A Sanctuarythere is somethingA Sanctuary by ApostateRook
self-contained pockets of joy
amidst a grungy room
in a forest of linoleum
plastic tables with dirt in the grooves
and a permeating sense of beige
the monotone buzz of pressures and suppression of reactions - human reactions
they softly soothe
a tonic citron smoothing ragged patches
existing (with(IN)side) of a lovely orange universe
knowing only the smell and taste and feel of it
relying on it
as if it might be a crucifix
or an energy-absorbing shield
quite possibly the hand of Mother Nature
carding through your hair
pulling threads and fibers to uncover something sacred
to be held in your hand
a soft-nosed bullet that pierced your father's thigh (and lost the battle)
a geode, a locket, the first arrowhead your mother ever found (her favorite)
a lock of your grandmother's hair (still auburn and beautiful)
except that this treasure
maintains its own impermanence.
and when you go, your fingers are stained
with some bright, a
LullabiesLullabies by RichardLeach
I taught my tongue so many things -
I taught it lullabies.
I sang them softly to my sons,
until they closed their eyes.
I sang them for the wakeful world
and it raved on and on.
It would not rest, it did not heed
the song upon my tongue.
I sang them to my troubles then,
my own, so very near,
and when they fell asleep I saw
how sweet their faces were.
My sons awoke, the world raved on,
my troubles stirred and coughed.
"Sleep on a while," I softly said,
and sang again so soft.
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