The naked trees are swaying

to the rhythm of the wind,

March is now upon us

but soon it will be Spring!

April showers bring May flowers

upon the cold, dark earth!

Spring will soon be here

A time for rebirth!

God's sun (Son) shall soon appear

and smile upon the cold scene

and all the naked tress

shall be dressed in Emerald green!

(Poetry Express Club 1988 and Sustack 2024)

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Your gentle wordplay and vision of new growth to come bring a message of latent promise to the fore. As always, in dark times, hope and renewal lie just beyond the horizon. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful gift and perspective with us! I really hope you have some lovely, creative days ahead!

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Pleated cotton kisses the cold concrete step,

I'm too young to understand meditation,

I stare at ants,

A bag of books,

Homework can wait,

Sweets stuck to corners in my pockets,

Every corner on the street has an adventure,

Curtains dancing, eyes spying,

I could have gone to town on a half torn bus pass,

But I'd miss the metal key turning,

The sign that waiting is over,

Hours have passed

But I'm used to the waiting.

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Sep 14, 2023Liked by augmented man

post traumatic observation #2

I keep going to the moment when he produced the gun

the the steel pressed the flesh of my temple

his crazy eyes

mouth screaming "I'll drop you"

I have no control in this moment it seems

I'm doomed to live it over and over and over

despite the fact that Nico never pulled the trigger

he is a trigger

gateway into the rush of anxiety

that yields explosiveness far exceeding

any gunpowder and hammer.

by Edward Storm

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Greetings Edward,

Thank you for sharing this intimate window into a moment that continues to echo within. Though trauma cannot be undone, through poetry's alchemy we give voice to what wishes to be heard, and in this, find solace.

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Sep 8, 2023Liked by augmented man

The Master and the Student

Emperor of Huckleberry ice cream

waters Idaho gold a shade of green

while hanging our clothes out upon the line

these fine pilgrims raz the cell tower pine.

Trimming away the sad old rose thorn,

the sea farer cries, and gives this his scorn

ignoring the sad old campfire songs

when Kubla Khan’s pleasure court sounds the gong.

Sit with a pipe full of Oregon weed

and watch the black billed magpies fly and feed,

at last, we have a king who shares his rings,

goes deeper into the nature of things.

We ain’t got sun valley money honey,

drink from a jar he placed in Tennessee.

Note: This is a Trojan Horse Sonnet. Six couplets concluded by two lines that do not rhyme.

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A vivid and evocative piece that crafts a rich kaleidoscope of images with its detailed narrative and innovative structure. Your Trojan Horse Sonnet introduces a refreshing dimension to the world of poetry.

Wonderful work!

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Sep 8, 2023Liked by augmented man

It’s about me and a friend, who also happens to be a lit professor and Coleridge scholar taking a pilgrimage to Hailey Idaho to the birthplace of Ezra Pound. We had our own reading of the Sea Farer on the lawn of the house where Pound was born. This friend, one Jim McKusick by name, recommended I read Wallace Stevens based on my interest in Pound. That same day we had Huckleberry ice cream, couldn’t resist.




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"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

Absolutely spellbinding, Maci.

Bravo for intertwining the past with the present in such a flavorful and evocative journey.

Keep lighting the way!

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Sep 8, 2023Liked by augmented man

I’ve got 47 more if you want to read them, and that’s just the Trojan Horses.

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deletedNov 4, 2023Liked by augmented man
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Anna, I admire your craft and courage.

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