Raja Chakraborty writes

Time :
Seconds tick into minutes,
minutes into hours. Or so
says the clock. Calendars
too.
But can you measure how
long someone will be sad,
or happy. How long does
it take for tears to dry, for
a smile to fade.
Minutes or months.
If pain refuses to leave
and clings on, becomes
your skin, your soul, you,
will it be timeless......
Or a clock which ran out
of time. And forgot.

 Nudo di Lange -- Nestor Ferronato

Arlene Corwin writes

Welcoming 2019

When everything around is going fast to hell,

We owe it to ourselves to ring out every bell inside (ourselves)

Feel well inside, to ride it out

With cheer and hope,

Not saying ‘nope’ nor moping

In a state

Of negativity.

Let’s pop the cork of generosity; 

Philanthropy with common sense and insight,

Making right the wrongs not out- but inside.

Face the new year with old wisdoms.

Every culture has, knew, knows them

Through the sages of the ages.

Let us not to be harmed by karma’s laws.

Past causes always swallowed up by Time; 

Let’s sow new seeds as yet unsown 

For we, the generators

Are creators

And the future is unknown.

Out with scum, the humdrum, and the dumb

Caught up in day by day.

The busy-ness of nothingness

Is not for us.

As said before,

Let’s greet the year

With hope and cheer

Despite clear omens of the climes

And  sheer despair

Of scattering diaspora from native homelands,

And, and, and - and, and.

In between,

Let’s welcome in 

Twenty nineteen

Taking care

To make clean air

(for air is everywhere). 

Pop the Cork and Celebrate --  Lisa Kaiser

Leonard D Greco Jr draws

Alphabetic Primer of Fairyland

“Z” is for Zanni

https://boondocksbabylon.com 

J. S. Aanand writes

THE BOAT

Time arrives on the shores of life,
pushed from below and behind,
like waves of the sea.

The sand on the beach cannot regulate their flow.
When they come, 

When they go,
Fast or slow,
We are houses of sand
Time overlaps us to and fro.

We are well equipped with our monitors.
Yet, it never listens to our sighs
Nor to our cries
It just flows, and sometimes flies.

No arm can be longer enough
to catch it at its source
Nor no sigh powered enough
to make it change its course

When floods arrive,
and when tempests come
our wits show their end
when in one flash our plans are undone.

We are boats meant for a destiny
set to sail on the sea of time
on the mercy of the waves
or the powers sublime.

Caravela [The Ship] -- Montague Dawson / Salvador Dalí

 Wind and Sun -- Montague Dawson