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# / Author
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DCCLI
Hugh Bygott
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Colourless her lips,
conceal'd by summer moonlight . . .
yet redden’d with desire.
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DCCLII
Betty Kaplan
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hanging in the breeze
her silk kimono covered
in baby's breath
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DCCLIII
Michele Harvey
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Easter daffodils...
the scalloped edge
of her petticoat
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DCCLIV
Hugh Bygott
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Soft, rustling silk —
our moon-viewing is forgotten . . .
the wild carnation.
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| From the Diary of Lady Yoshioka.Ideally, DCCLIV should have been before DCCLII. This poem was inspired by Shikibu Murasaki’s The Tale of Genji. The wild carnation is a baby conceived in love. HB |
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DCCLV
Betty Kaplan
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wild flowers
blanket the prairie —
her ashes scattered
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DCCLVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Their spring love —
she's saddened by the thought
that everything ends.
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DCCLVII
Trish Shields
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arranged tulip petals —
after the wine and food
she asks him in
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DCCLVIII
Hugh Bygott
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Opening petals —
I must not wound her with my love,
but must wait, must wait . . .
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DCCLIX
Betty Kaplan
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Oh, mighty ocean!
keeping us together
keeping us apart
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DCCLX
Zhanna P. Rader
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Last summer,
we believed in our love —
my icy mailbox...
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DCCLXI
Hugh Bygott
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Her manicured hands —
Nails redder than the winter rose:
so sharp if love should fail.
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DCCLXII
Betty Kaplan
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how gently
she traces his life line
a kiss in his palm
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DCCLXIII
Trish Shields
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hands cup
the softness of love
the desert rose
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DCCLXIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Staying up all night
to write him a love letter —
the wren's first "too-ree!"
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DCCLXV
Hugh Bygott
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Summer dusk —
swifter touch, rustling, falling silk:
there is no return.
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DCCLXVI
Terry A. Steudlein
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morning torrential rains
rolling over in bed
torrid sunshine rising
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DCCLXVII
Hugh Bygott
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Oh Eros!
When you shake our limbs at Spring dusk,
how quickly reason flees!
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| With acknowledgements to Sappho the Classical Greek woman poet who inspires us all. HB |
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DCCLXVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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An impromptu kiss
before another leaf falls —
our thinking on hold.
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DCCLXIX
Hugh Bygott
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In the Spring dawn
she came to me within a dream . . .
just empty silver combs.
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DCCLXX
Betty Kaplan
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her body longs
for a child within
Autumn approaches
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DCCLXXI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Waking up
to the touch of your lips...
and the April breath.
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DCCLXXII
Hugh Bygott
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Mask'd, save almond-eyes —
this Spring day how sweetly the scalpel cuts…
Here, even here — Eros.
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| Today, I had surgery on my face. The doctor was a most beautiful Chinese woman. At times I glaced up at her eyes above her mask. Whatever scar is left, it will always return this day. Even here, where there might perhaps be anxiety, Eros ran wild with his wilful darts. HB |
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DCCLXXlll
Betty Kaplan
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April Fools Day —
his bow taut, arrow ready
yet Cupid missed the mark
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DCCLXXIV
Johnye Strickland
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at the bookstore
the latest nude romance ~
her Flong fling
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DCCLXXV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Secluded swim spot —
a girl and her bikini,
drying apart.
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DCCLXXVI
Terry A. Steudlein
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midnight passions
and the humidity
wet sheets
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| heat wave / purple wisteria in twining |
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DCCLXXVII
Zhanna P. Rader
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His touch —
my arm hairs
stand up.
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DCCXXVIII
Trish Shields
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bodies shimmer
with each flick of the flame
the tease of Spring
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DCCLXXIX
Hugh Bygott
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Lilacs yet to bloom —
I press her nakedness to mine . . .
this fragile innocence.
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DCCLXXX
Zhanna P. Rader
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This opening bloom —
an ardent invitation
for a bumblebee.
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DCCLXXXI
Hugh Bygott
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Gently holding hands,
my eyes undo her buttons:
summer house discretion.
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DCCLXXXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Hugging a pine,
imagining it's he...
until the pinecone...
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DCCLXXXIII
Hugh Bygott
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Her hair swept back,
skirt billowing : Oh Autumn wind,
do not tempt me!
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DCCLXXXIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Taking your image
into my summer dream —
soft touch of breeze.
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DCCLXXXV
Hugh Bygott
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Newly arrived Spring —
whatever we have been, still
there’s Love’s fresh glance.
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DCCLXXXVI
Betty Kaplan
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the thought of his touch
excites her senses —
cherry in bloom
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DCCLXXXVII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Their true feelings,
never put into words —
rose-scented evening.
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DCCLXXXVIII
Hugh Bygott
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The nightingale unheard —
our fingers journey
over sensuous paths.
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DCCLXXXIX
Terry A. Steudlein
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midnight rendezvous
in rose garden dew
whispers in her ear
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DCCXC
Zhanna P. Rader
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He digs out her phlox:
thinks it's a weed - still gets
a passionate kiss.
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DCCXCI
Hugh Bygott
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Lilac fragrance
suffuses through the evening dusk . . .
Oh Eros come to her!
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DCCXCII
Zhanna P. Rader
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She pulls a daisy
from the hay: he loves me,
he loves me not...
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DCCXCIII
Hugh Bygott
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Awakened by her kiss
I feign sleep, but alas . . .
. . . sunflowers also tilt . . .
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DCCXCIV
Naia
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scarlet sunset . . .
I submit to the heat
in his fingers
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DCCXCV
Hugh Bygott
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Our moist lips touch . . .
two roses tightly in a glass;
perfect harmony.
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DCCXCVI
Betty Kaplan
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in their bed alone
his arms once encased her
. . . the widow
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DCCXCVII
Hugh Bygott
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Drear, winter grey —
I hold her unused pearls:
once so bosom-warm.
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DCCXCVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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His iris bouquet —
the clouds give way
to a bright rainbow.
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DCCXCIX
Hugh Bygott
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Winter-clad we pass:
I turn, imagining her breasts;
she turns and smiles, as if . . .
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DCCC
Terry A. Steudlein
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brushing
a strand of hair from her face —
spring breeze
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