Here they are, in all their food-stained glory.

If you haven’t read the previous post, you might want to…to understand what the hell we were on about.  I’m posting each work in the counter-clockwise order in which they circled the table. The first word on each is the handwriting of its “owner”, in case you take a fancy to tracking the thought processes of each person. Stanzas are as written—I couldn’t edit during the execise, and I sure as hell won’t do it now.

Are these great poems? Does it matter? Its the food of the exercise, its power to feed the spirit and the imagination, that is the true meaning here. And it’s damned fun.

(Blake’s Lead)    

Tragedy unfurled, beyond chaos

reflected, ethereal,

simplicity.

Hell.

Pixie

innocence. But, despite pain

proverb

unspoken but felt, I feel.

A challenge

Indecipherable, an urge to destroy

But cannot.

(Lynn’s Lead)    

Beloved, I adore

silence, unknown energy—

a desire broken,

a place remade,

a sentiment defined.

My heart ectoplasmic,

made real. Fermenting

yet ageless my beloved;

why do you not drink?

Thirst?

Understand?

(Kristina’s Lead)    

Provocateur, why?

Ringmaster, an appetite,

craving—starvation

in sinking sand,

risen, lifting above

with adoration and

ancient light—

exploding in silence

skin and bone

without place,

without time.

My heart stopped.

Open

to the possible,

uncertain

(Melody’s Lead)

Earth found

discovered,

light in darkness

nevermore,

evermore, always.

Birth, rebirth,

not understood. Standing in    solace

reverberation

unheard and felt deeply—

heart pounding.

Liquid.

Yielding, throbbing—despite all.

(Final Round/Blake’s Lead)  

Astral gods rebirth within

transcendant place,

blue-skinned, heartbroken,

unable

yet hopeful,

third eye sees all that ends,

yet prophecies,

upon Karma’s back, hunt endlessly

for meaning

instantly understood, like cosmic fire

perpetual motion,

in placeless silence—

interconnected, yet broken hearts will

place themselves. Inside themselves,

outside themselves. And everywhere in between.

We are

Immeasurable.

Lynn’s final note: This is the power of the word. Of imagination. Of friendship. Expressed in minutes. Captured on paper. And something each of us will remember, I think, for a long, long time.

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