The Gardener Finds Out Death by Adam G

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In Spring the gardener finds out death–
What fruit tree limbs did not overwinter.
Some stems twig and bud and bloom,
Some stems splinter.

I lost a limb some seasons back
From my own flesh–my firstborn daughter.
Time healed the break, but I still lack
The apples of her laughter.

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Adam lives with his wife and children in central New Mexico near the ranch his great-grandfather lost in the Great Depression. He is a member of the www.jrganymede.com blog.His oldest daughter, Betsey Pearl, died of cancer in the spring of 2005.

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An Ode to Coal by Lee Allred

FIRST_SHIFT_OF_MINERS_AT_THE_VIRGINIA-POCAHONTAS_COAL_COMPANY_MINE_^4_NEAR_RICHLANDS,_VIRGINIA,_LEAVING_THE_ELEVATOR...._-_NARA_-_556393

Black seams skitter
Through mantled rock,
Crisscrossing mountains.
Encrusted veins of blackened heart
Hide within its poisoning death
Until exhumed by grave diggers,
Faces black with toil-worn greed.
 
Black smoke bellows
In high desert air,
Seeding clouds.
Sooted walls of blackened lung
Hide within its poisoning death
Until exhaled by grave fillers,
Faces white with aged fate.
 
Infant heart struggles
Within plastic tent
As bellowed tubes and gauges pump
And beat louder than Death’s blackened wing.
Piston-power cremation-called
Hides within its poisoning death
Until excised by wondrous grave emptiers,
Faces pink with reborn life.

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Lee Allred lives alone in a small gray house on headlands overlooking the windswept Oregon Coast. Lee has lived and travelled extensively across the globe. He is a professional fiction writer and much of his published work incorporates poetry €”lines from the classics and lines from his own.

Photo by Jack Corn, 1974, via Wikimedia Commons: “First shift of miners at the Virginia Pocahontas Coal Company Mine #4 near Richlands, Virginia, leaving the elevator.”

The Grey Tree by A.J. Huffman

Winter_Tree_-_geograph.org.uk_-_783631

Even through the harsh blues of winter,
it manages to breathe.
Stretching its naked arms
across the sky.
A living smile.
Waiting to be blessed
by the sun.

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For Huffman’s bio and links to additional poetry, go here.

Photo by John Firth via Wikimedia Commons.

Dancing Sky by A.J. Huffman

Cloud-to-cloud_lightning2_-_NOAA

The nightstorms are the worst.
More terrifying.
The sharp shocks of light.
They leave a scar.
Inside.
A memory.
An omen.
To remember often.
How much they look like cracks.

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For Huffman’s bio and some additional poetry, go here.

Photo by National Severe Storms Laboratory via Wikimedia Commons.