Over the years and the passing seasons many, many transitions and changes have transpired.
Now all that remains is a ghostly recollection that emits some verbiage and articulation at certain junctions.
Perhaps this is due to the triggers that still have hold and spring. Potentialities surround and poems still alight.

droplets of honey--
your words varnish
my waking mind,
coaxing me to
leave all, behind

gone, but ever remaining
never learning
held, ever close but
never belonging
cradled light - metaphed demise

on a spring morning
melting, paraffin wax;
now a shadow of a
hand, held tight
in the deep of night

Somewhere in the globe today is "Appreciate A Poet Day," and I am very thankful for you All!

For those who celebrate or not, the tale of how it all began, to whom this day's celebration found its humble beginnings. Read, but do not weep, he did all for love.

.

Valens, you are esteemed worthy,
at the Via Flaminia you lay:
Valentinus offered up in faith.
Your deeds aren't known in our day.

In this life you wed young couples;
an act the Emperor would not permit.
And though your grace the monarch received,
your execution he did transmit.

This could be our poetic exedra

I write for the same reason any other writer writes;
without expecting to be understood nor appreciated.
The only thing I shall ask of you, Gentle Reader, is to read -
faithfully, with biases laid aside, allowing the words
to work their purpose...

This, I believe is the beginning of the enviable relationship
between the Reader and their Writer...

"How To Read A Poem"
by Judith Kitchen

`

When a poet takes up arms
their quill is orphaned quick
though the pen is mightier
the sword some bards will pick

however just the cause may be
forsake their weapon true
to lose what makes them free
sad the day when all is through

`

After reading Blue's ordeal, which is representative of the experience of many on other such poetry sites, a little hilarious write that is not meant to be irreverent of anyone or anything. Hope you can enjoy:

Then Neogod said,
“Let Us make poets in Our image,
according to Our likeness;
let them have dominion over the sheet of a pad,
over the leaves of a tome, and over the airwaves,
over all the earth and over every corner of the worldwide web.”

Could this be brought on by S.A.D.? Perhaps...

`

So many winter friendships
save but a few
thaw with the sparkle of spring.

`

Sounds like the family business.
Could family and workshop blend empirically?

Sounds like a new site... but it's not... the poem might clarify things a bit
or make it clear as mud!

Alpha Poetry

`

lurking in every forum
throughout web-wide landscapes
they build around themselves
a close knit poetic posse

they direct the flow of traffic
each post they yay or nay
they pontificate and control
this private watering hole

site owners are held at
inglorious political ransom
its hijacked community
cowers then withers away

`