Del Mar

Del Mar 

Jonathan they called you

Soaring so high

Now you’re pecking for the crab

I’ll command you to fly

As I swoosh you away

The crab you’ll nab

Another day

They’re curious

Those Yanks of city streets

Thinking they know of

Crackers beat and sand retreats

Here friend and foe

Gather to meet

Under blue sky and cirrus

The furious swirls beneath their feet

Sand and salt water

Mix as you tumble

Skin scrapes as you swirl

Hold your breath through the rumble

Scared, panic

Waters twist and turn

Suddenly set you free

Your first gasp of air

As you emerge from the sea

(c) Copyright Artemis J Jones 2016

This started from micro poetry that i posted on twitter.  I force myself to stay in 140 characters, save them and them have another look. 

Be Well!  AJJ

The Death of the Jester's Son

The Death of the Jester's Son

By Angela Stol 

Who says Death is black?

It is white as your unsoiled dress shirt

like your mother’s faithless shoulder

like the aqueous mass where tremble

the astonished eyes of your father.

White

as your bloodless cheeks

rested on the chest of a false queen

crowned and shielded by her mantle of broken stars

she, who holds your little body in another version of Michelangelo’s Pietà

only heavier and darker

empty of mercy and redemption.

And then, who said Death is black?

Angela Stol is new contributor
You can find her work at
misegundavezblog.wordpress.com