different circles – mb

in my mind i had run away again it was just a fantasy a longing to be missed the truth was i was often absent from home and so was everyone else who lived there a modern family i thought about visiting Mr. Petrucchio but it was early evening he was probably asleep in his green upholstered chair with his brown Ferragamos still on and Perry Como on the hi fi killing me softly was his favorite

a weathered bench behind the Cecil was waiting for me old gray plastic too hot to sit on in the summer and always damp in the winter very decisive for a gray bench

i went to biology class today the teacher spoke about how eggs become fertilized funny because in English class we talked about how eggs are a symbol for rebirth life all around i took out a clove and lit up watched the smoke defy gravity up past my nose my eyes head and eventually gone to be part of the universal ozone

my mind went slightly blank and into daydream mode thinking about the electricity of boy chicken sperm fertilizing the girl chicken egg i chewed some of the black polish off my left thumb and came to the realization that i had been an egg too life was so intricate and fragile but forging forward man and beast go forth and multiply

out of my dream i snapped there was a four lane street between my bench and the old warehouse across the street with the permanently shut back door that transients used as a Murphy bed or toilet depending on the weather

at first there was a loud white woman skinny like a sausage casing she was yelling and flinging her arms wildly then two or three black folks gathered along side and spoke loud enough in religious tones he dead he dead Lawd take ‘im ta heaven po’ sona bitch

my watch said 5:57 p.m. another homeless person had passed in a door way i wasn’t sure what to feel i was no stranger to corpses my grandmother chose to pass at her home when i was a little kid and we didn’t have to wear seat belts driving through the north 110 speedway i witnessed a man dying like a fish out of water he was riding his motorcycle before that but had been hit and just left there i didn’t do it then because i didn’t know i was just a kid but every now and again i say a prayer for his soul

a small crowd gathered at my bench as they watched the coroner’s van pull in to the site one of the coroner’s people looked across the street at us and began making his way toward my crowd while the dead man’s crowd shook their heads smoked laughed yelled covered their mouths with their hand and then slowly left as the PD hung their yellow tape the sign of seriousness and solemnity

“i observe the world around me then translate what i see through words and visuals as a form of meditation and at times penance”

mb is a Gen Xer born and raised in urban Los Angeles who chronicles the art form of living in the Angelino metropolis her offerings are inspired by the mental health crisis in the city everyday observations and human nature interjected with fiction based on non-fictional intimate events

mb battles depression and anxiety but utilizes writing and art to self-regulate she began writing again as a self-promise after being AWOL from the process for several years

you can read more of mb’s writing at WORDS LESS SPOKEN

The gravity between us – Melita White

The gravity
That lies between
Is leaden with the death of us

Is heavy with false words
That float the void
Between realities

Weight brings to bear
Upon our minds
Great burdens of such gravity

Wet concrete blocks
To set our thoughts
In semblance of fertility

Melita White is founder and writer of the blog Feminist Confessional, a space that features feminist poetry, essays and personal pieces in a confessional style, with a focus on the MeToo movement. She is a composer and musician and loves making all kinds of things. https://feministconfessional.wordpress.com

Featured Post: The Gravity Between Us – M.A. Morris

In my final days,
I will soar into the sun
And wait for you.
Or should it be
Find you there
Waiting for me.
Then we will fly beyond,
Mingling and joining
With the elements
Of air
Of earth
Of water
Of fire,
Merging and separating,
And merging again.
For an eternity,
Playing in the gravity
Between us.

Then should we
Fall to earth once again,
No matter where,
No matter the time,
We will find
Each other

I am a retired teacher, enjoying said retirement.  I have been active in the gay and lesbian community since I threw away my Ken doll at the age of four.

You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing

The Gravity Between Us – Sarah Ritter

I parked my car in front of our house
You opened the front door
As I moved towards you
I instinctively slid into your arms
As if pulled in like a magnet
I fell into your embrace
Like your love was my gravity
And our hearts could not help
But to comply with the laws of
Magnetism, gravitation and momentum
Because this was the natural order for us
We entered the house together
As if this was the way it has always been
Between us

Sarah Ritter is a writer and poet whose first poetry collection “Inspirations, Transformations and Revelations: A Poetic Expression of My Personal Journey,” was published in March 2019. In her spare time she writes for her online blog and creates homemade greeting cards.

You can read more of her writing at Sarah Ritter’s Revelations…A Collection of My Poems & Short Stories

Featured Post: The Gravity Between Us – Robert G Wertzler

Gravity – invisible force
Holding the Moon in orbit
Sticking our feet to Earth
Gravity – mystery of physics
And of feeling, wanting
Drawing more together
Than just bodies
Resistance can feel futile
Whether colliding or
Swinging in orbit
Like double stars

Bob Wertzler is retired from almost twenty years in the mental health field in California and Arizona. There are times the title, “Recovering Therapist”, seems to fit. In 2006 he retired to move to Western North Carolina to help and become primary care giver for his father who had developed Dementia. Before all that, there was work at various times as a soldier (US Army 1967-70), community organizer, cab driver, welfare case worker, wooden toy maker, carpenter, warehouse worker, and other things. He relates to a line in a Grateful Dead song, “What a long, strange trip its been.”

The Gravity Between Us – CE Wing

All I ever wanted was to love you
But you had another plan
Still don’t know what that was
What you wanted was a mystery
Now silence and distance
Is all I have
The gravity between us
I have no desire to fight
You lost
We could have great together
You may have ghosted
But I am the one that is free
Happier then I’ve ever been
The gravity between us
Has no power
No meaning
As you have no power
And no meaning
To me anymore

CE Wing is a Connecticut Yankee living in the Queen City. A writer and poet. She has dreamed of being a writer since she was a little girl. Her dream was pushed aside for a time but through her journey of self-discovery, she rekindled her passion for writing. She is currently writing a novel, a traditional fantasy with an LGBTQ theme. You can read more of her writing on Wing’s Poetry

Featured Post: The Gravity Between Us – Georgiann Carlson

like two stars circling
each other
we are
drawn together
by gravity
made of passion
and desire
unable to break free
and not wanting to

I’m an artist, a writer, a vegetarian, an animal rights activist, and quite a few other things as well. I love books, cats, philosophy, good conversation, Chicago and the arts. So my blog is full of bits and pieces but it’s the bits and pieces that make life interesting to me. You can read more of my writing at Rethinking Life