August Poets

Howard Luke

William Ball

Sasha Dee

Charles Browne

Ann Cole

Peter Leonard Cox

Brian Ring

William Ball

William Ball

You don’t know what you’ve got till its gone

An empty ambulance passed by winding through stuck traffic

A  reference point indeed

On its way to   someone’s   pain

An empty ambulance screams by siren wailing

The time was ticking oh so fast now alike a  speeding heartbeat

An empty ambulance lights flashing stops at a buildings entrance

The time was ticking oh so fast now  just like my speeding heartbeat

Sweating wet forehead

They shut the doors then speed away

The time is ticking so fast now

Runs down

Runs down the steamy window

dead but not forgotten  beautiful dead but not forgotten

Clear cool cool water

The directeur

Someone from the bedroom brought a large box of chocolates followed by the broken ring  of silver

Broken in three I previously thought it was two lost a tiny part

I couldn’t hold myself up a dizzy dazed my usually confident  self

Breathing deeply I looked at the screen again mistakenly sent a message to apologize  small little sprinkled upon a river of molten rock

Airport airport bags  cases  embraces turns absolving documents related statements

Steps to take next    one moment

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Sasha Dee

Sasha Dee

Wild Nights

Wild night. Wild nights !

Wild Nights ! Wild Nights !

Where are you now

Come back down

Come back down

And possess my

Empty dreams

Empty nights !

Wild nights, wild nights !

Bring along

Your magic potions

Your youthful visions

Your heady wines

Your poem that shines

Wild nights, wild nights !

Your sweet breath

Your kiss of death

Your dance of destruction

Come and sting me deep

Wild nights, wild nights !

Hit me hard where it will hurt

And let me girt

All around and rocket

From where there

Will be no return ticket !

Wild nights, wild nights, ah !

Wild nights, wild nights, eh !


If darkness were mine

I’d wash it clean

“n” make it into a kerchief

for you to wear it

over your cute Spanish hair.

If sunlight were mine

I’d style it into a sarong

for you to wear it

on a beautiful beach of Thai

to show me through the slit

your divine seductive thigh

and hide it, show it again, again.

If stars were mine

I’d work them into hairpins

and the crescent moon,

I’d make it into a sliver clip

that dresses

to tie together your tresses

If the stars lighted night were mine

I’d fashion it into a marriage veil

So you could walk in beauty in the aisle

Had I the golden fire fretted canopy,  for you

I could tailor it into a diamond-studded gown

But all I’ve got is

a plenty of nothing

and  nothing you’ll get:

but a nought is not a ought

when a naught has plenty

and plenty has naught

so this tangled knot will be something

and something is better than nothing  !!

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Brian Ring

Brian Ring

I am the One

I am the one

One who, was never there

I was not there again today

I wished to the God that

I was not still there

So am I really the one after all

Am I not really the shadow of the One?

Or it is all the part of the fantasy?

Or am I the part of Him

Whatever He is and whatever He says so

I am but His second in command

I am the other one

The other one

His second son

Surely this is not true?

Is it?

There are plenty of the steak holders

In this vast vista

There are plenty of people

But not outside the psyche

Now I am a shadow of my former self

I really do not know

What I am, who I am?

So they can call me none

Or whatever they can

Who am I anyway?

A person from Mars

That’s I know

So I do not belong

To this alien nation

My real contents

Or character

Things like candour

Socks, Russian naval

Photos Passports etc

All these things mean

That I am an anarchist outsider

Or am I. But I am the one

As he set the one

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Howard Luke

Howard Luke

Life Follows Art

A Black beetle crawls

Up a willow bark

Of a dog in unison

With a quiz show host

Sits down for dinner

Life is comic book reality

Tv confuses me.

I pull back, back further

Within and am left without

Program schedules run my


Pictures, visual images

Crowd my mind projecting

On the retina to the optic nerve

Soap opera dialogue tumbles

In company or alone

Life follows art

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