Your Rain was tears on my window pane -
the first poem of yours I had seen -
pain-drops spattered a snow-blank expanse,
grief-blue with regret and what should have been.
I thought 'mediocre'. Bad omen for you.
You who attempted to pour the blue,
to quench the amber arid air
and quell the mithering mistral.
I needed that oasis: sea spray words
to drench a desert of parched poetics.
Hints at a darkness beneath; hieroglyphic glints,
a calligraphic trance-dance of pen.
I was struck by that, and, later,
struck by so much more.
Black dagger words. Your chirography,
slash-slanting, stabbing the page like little knives -
'transfixing', somebody said. Trance-fixing.
I was entranced by you.
You offered me an art-effigy: your failed book
that bled its heart in pink and red and shed
the blood gobbets of brutalised childhood.
I saw: a book that was crying for blue,
weeping for water, demanding more
water-pour from every pore.
Just months before, the future fanned out in mystical tarot
predicting long-distance love: the tower tumbling, and the chariot
hauling two hundred miles across country, coast to coast.
We were falling through a chasm of long-distance words;
falling in love, and both of us knew.
Passion so intense it made each finger a flame
as we sweated fever-beads in a burning bed
in a sizzle-tangle of gold thread bedspread
in a room that cracked like kindling.
I understood little of your Beds Are Burning
but heard its furnace-roar of trauma
as you recoiled from the wound-raw red
and groped for Aquarian blue-cool,
the page giving voice to the child
that had no voice, no choice, words
bursting to blaze in our flamery.
If only I had staunched the scarlet heart-pour,
tempered the tempest with turquoise,
pressed the bandage of blue to the soul-wound...
Court Green evergreen,
grieving under thatch,
and the slatted sun
warming moss-skin on old corpse walls;
the mouths of corpses suckling dark roots
in earth heavy and thick with omen.
You were away God-knew-where
whilst I sweltered in the burning bronze
of hot North Tawton sun, and sweated
over stagnant, stilted stanzas.
That end-of-summer was stagnant.
A thick silage pall shrouding land
and the spilled puce guts
of blackberries rotting sadly in hedgerows.
We floundered and foundered, deaf ears
turned to your father's coffin-creak,
blind eyes turned to the gothic yew
rising and presiding, its spire stabbing sky.
Too many battles fought for too long -
both the blood-scrapping external ones
and even bloodier internal ones.
Language shards lodged in shrapnel sentences
when words were all that remained
like blood spots on the floor: poetry's stigmata,
hot clots of our heated exchange,
gunshots in a word-war
where there could be no victor -
just us, together-apart
and alone with our heart-art.
Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2017
Down where I sleep,
You hold me, embrace my every way
The Marks up on my skin
You caress, taking away from the ugliness
Watching the simple breath, when I breathe
Breaking the ice, soothing my inner peace
A sweet spray across the paleness in my limbs
Holding the warmth, I've been loved throughout my life.
From picking up sticks to the walking stick
My loving dear I know you will always be there
A few wheel chairs, when broken bones mend
You know my every cure*
Walk with me across the hall
Through the oldness, and the boldness of every color in the sky
Thank you for taking me as I am
A light twinkle' every time I feel the colors of the rainbow drip
Now a newborn takes his form
In you I find the strength to stretch my arms and reach for every star
When happy moments fail,
I embraced the colors I found in you
I make out every tree, and wonder why and how?
I close my eyes to imagine the fun of chasing fireflies
Tonight I'm keeping my prayers simple, cute, and innocent
I will count sheep and search for sweet lullaby dreams
Smiling like a 3 year old this very moment,
You think I'm having "Baby Blues."
My loving dear, thanks for having patience,
Painting my way down a toddlers sky
Every time "P M S" hits
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
I can't help but watch them
As they run into the water, laughing, teasing, holding hands
With the sun catching the color of her long, auburn hair
The bronze of his young, muscular, legs
So fascinated by them, ...I can't stop staring..
The beauty of their youth, ....
With young love, so stunning in the sunset...
I hold them in my gaze
Until I lose them in the waves.
You have been watching me, watching them....
Your hair has grey in it, recently trimmed, thinning in the crown
There is winter showing on your face
I remember this morning slipping into my swimsuit
Critical of the mirror in front of me
You laughed and said I was being silly
You sigh, and take a deep breath of the ocean air
You take another look at me
As my eyes continue to search the water..
You reach across the blanket and touch my shoulder..
Saying just what I need to hear at that moment...
"Give me a kiss, you beautiful girl"..........
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
Praise me down
In a pit of abysmal.
Your balance ego
Keeps me on the void
Behind your back.
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind,
we're not straining, we're not struggling,
we're not sinking, we're just fine.
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried,
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time.
Do you want me all the ways that I am?
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand.
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand,
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand.
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind,
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine.
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep.
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires,
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire.
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin,
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in.
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same,
pleading and begging for more than just a saying,
but to feel and to see that im not alone,
with being in this love thats overwhelming.
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark,
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark.
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire.
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or,
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out,
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out,
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close,
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go,
why these tears are building up behind my eyes,
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires
and it desires to be your wife.
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true,
tell my my dearest what I mean to you,
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
The cares of the world waft away like
the vague images of a forgotten dream
when he climbs into bed beside me.
And my comfort is found in the warmth
of a slight up-curved smile relaxing across
an unshaven face tickling me with a
hundred kisses as I squeal to his delight.
A calloused hand urges the small of
my back gently forward as I fuss in
mock protest of his boyish game.
His eyes gleam indulgently making my
heart swell with such regard I
choke back joyful tears and throw
my arms possessively around him.
With a knowing sigh he draws me in,
cradling me in his capable arms
sworn to provide and protect.
Then he buries his face in my copper-red
hair breathing its henna scent, and
holding me tight, he whispers my name,
swearing love that will never relent.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
“I’m not a machine, you know.”
He says huskily
As she places her chocolate tipped breast
Within inches of his lips
She just smiles, breastfeeding him
And leans back and sighs
As he gorges
On creamy chocolate ecstasy
Later, he wonders
About his insatiable wife
Wondering if he can keep up
With her little bedroom games
And trips into fantasy
He lies back in the
Exhaustion of fulfillment
About to close his eyes
When he hears her weeping
Trying to stifle her sobs
Should he pretend he doesn’t hear?
He is so tired
She quiets down
And before sleep claims him
He hears her whisper
“When you make love to me
That’s the only time
The only time….
You really SEE me
For those few moments
I feel that your world revolves around me
That you NEED me
To be fulfilled
The only time
You're the man you used to be
The one dying to possess me
And so I prostitute my love for you…
Hoping in these moments
Before he can respond
And he looks up at the ceiling and wonders
How life has changed him
His other friends complain
About their frigid wives and dull lives
So unlike his
He is fortunate
He remains in bed
Staring at the ceiling
She cries softly on the couch
Feeling broken, used
Just a receptacle for his need
While she remains empty
She fingers her phone
Thinking of the invitation there
A shared cup of coffee
Nothing more, and yet
She reads the real invitation
In the depth of his eyes
When he looks at her
She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises…
He walks into the living room
She tries to cover her body
With her red see through lingerie
Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes
He kneels down in front of her
Pushing away her hair
His eyes searching hers
And holding them for a moment
Tilting her chin up, his lips cover hers
With a gentle longing
She gasps for breath
Shocked at the tears gathering in his eyes
His voice barely reaches her ears…
“Will you be my wife?”
She tries to draw him to her
But he takes a hold of her outstretched hand
And helps her to her feet
Gently leading her to the bedroom
And night turns to day
As he makes love to his wife
Satiating her soul
Realizing her every fantasy
He says all the things he’s felt, but never said
As he ravishes her…
His woman, his bride, his wife
The mid-morning sun
Caresses her face
And she awakens
To find herself
Where she’s always longed to be…
In her husband's arms
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
Tonight as candles flicker, she is sitting at the table
where her husband sat (before he passed away),
working on his daily crossword puzzles, seeming
most content although the nest they’d pieced
together gradually had emptied and grown quiet.
She remembers when her daughters,
chirruping like little birds, implored her please
to make their favorite cake named as a pie,
her famous Boston Cream.
Then busily she set to mixing butter, eggs; flour;
in other bowls, vanilla cream and chocolate glaze.
They liked it when she brought the china tea cups
from the cupboard and made a little party
just for them. . .
When all her birds had flown away, she tried to
cook and clean, pretending to be busy,
but really she just listened for their calls.
She saw her girls at holidays, but then when
they got married, the phone rang much less often.
And Christmas with them all was something rare.
Monotony hung heavy in the air.
No longer did she feel like baking cakes.
She faced the television while her husband
worked on puzzles and puttered round the house.
It seemed to her an effort just to breathe.
So then she’d go outside, buy groceries,
or stop and watch the children in the park.
A group of older ladies always flocked there
just like robins home for spring, twittering.
They’d beckon her to join them and chat.
But she just smiled, nodded, passed them by,
and wondered what could spark such animation.
For sadness now had settled over her.
It taxed her from her mornings to her nights,
sapping her of any old desires she once had.
And when her husband passed, she had no more
of sorrow left to cry.
So here she sits tonight beside the candles.
She thinks about the women in the park
and how they’d motioned to her just today.
A light inside her mind is flickering.
She rises from her chair, and flips a switch.
Her kitchen fills with light. She goes to where
for many years her cookbook lay untouched.
A harbinger, it opens to the place she’d often gone.
The weight of her dejection strangely lightens.
She gathers her ingredients and thinks about
the ladies; how she hopes they will react
when she gives her invitation, and
how cheerful they will be while sipping tea;
chirruping like girls, like little birds.
A stirring in her bones - this yearning to be free
kindling a rebellion -
the beginning of unburdening;
She starts to make her famous Boston Cream.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
Decades stretched a cord, across years,
up the stairs, and around chairs
coiling beyond the door of one small room,
groomed by the sun, of a Saturday afternoon...
I am floating on a sea of a hardwood floor
Prone, on my back, upon a lavender rug
Examining the nail of my left hand thumb
with a phone at my ear, a smile on my face
while you've glady expressed, how you've aced an exam
I confess how I've missed holding your hand
only linked to your kiss, by a small ivory phone
With a ring on my finger, to bind young love
Blinded in the eyes, from an innocent throne
Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold
There was a cake on order, and a brand new world
You were glued to my ear, I was wrapped by a cord
that tugged on the wall, with long-distance words
Light from the yard is scored by the blinds
but, there on the floor, prone on my back,
I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives
Linked to your voice, where a future was wound
Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood,
I had a pillow of shag, of that lavender rug
The days would stretch shorter and our vows, on hold
till the cord became stronger, watching years unfold
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
My head against the doorframe, I love to watch him work
Almost jealous of his devotion, the motion of his hands
I am surprised at the green-eyed dragon, that lurks within my mind,
as he rubs the pungent oil, into muscles of the pine.
With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, and rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile, along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and removed,
where the onion skin of years and wear
are entombed beneath the grain
He groans with satisfaction, (this Frankenstein, of mine),
while something someone, once tossed away,
is brought to life, back from the dead
Shimmering sheen of patina gleams, while the morning light slides in,
and preens through the window, simmering bright, and shines just like his eyes
I think I've seen a swirl of smoke flare up, and circle in the air
as the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, and the crest of the sun gets high
No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face,
He sees me not, .... my jealous want,.......I need his warm embrace
My need aroused by greed and want, ignored by linseed's taunt
I watch his arms move back and forth, a dance of his gyration,
while my hips keep rhythm and swivel too, to his radio's oldie station
There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here
The sensuality, taunting simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay
I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to let the man I face,
to release my trancelike state of mind,
and let my fingers trace
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
Slice me with your tongue,
Razor blade wounds,
To suck out all my poisens,
Sweet lonely lullaby,
Accusing eyes of sadism,
Picture perfect prodegy,
My Deadly Sin,
A bitter taste of arson,
Burning in my vital organ,
Your the pyre that burns away my mortality,
A sip of tea made from Lilly of the Valley,
A shadow of Death stalking,
With odd angel like wings,
A Numbing kiss like Drowning in Morphine,
Sweet arms to rest in till my vision no longer holds,
Eyes neither like Hell nor Heaven,
That Drip of Drugs into your system,
Intoxicated blood stream,
I'd rather not dream,
And instead get lost within - Your paralysing,
Your Paralysing, Brain lapse,
Your moving too fast,
Stay slow and dreamy,
Like a burning forest fire,
Pain throughout my veins,
Ravishing and Beautiful,
A voice torn from my throat,
With my last sight of you. . .
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
lost in the twilight hours
the twilight years
longing for the past
a closet door opens,
I reach inside
wrap myself in his old sweater
his Aramis scent
still clings to wool
puts me in a trance
and the aged phonograph
as I dance to our song
“Without You” by Nilsson
I can’t live
if living is without you
I can’t give
I can’t give anymore
no, I’ll not forget the evening
his face as he was leaving
for work the night before his stroke
I keep Aramis in the house
to spray my pillows
as I drift off to sleep
without you, my love,
just sounds and scents
that make no sense
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
i curl your
long dark hair in my fingers
at your neck
as I pull you down
I wait to feel the rough end of day
on my face
your eyes close a little then open
to watch me
look at me, I whisper
looking at me
Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009
their park, their bench
was serenely quiet
leaves playfully danced
as pigeons quickly took flight.
he caressed the colourful scarf
she had knitted with love and care
he wept tears of remembrance;
her smile, her joy, the scent of her hair.
a chilly breeze made him shiver
he held tightly his scarf,
wrapped it around his lips
he inhaled deeply; breathing her in.
with steaming cups of coffee
a paper bag of gooey cinnamon buns
they had laid out the sunday crosswords
debated and laughed; they were truly one.
tummies full, cheeks a rosy glow
she lay her head on his lap
gazed into his clear blue eyes,
he kissed her forehead, held softly her hand.
this was their time, their park, their bench
he beamed recalling, the day she chose him.
she raced him uphill to the gorgeous oak tree,
they rolled down the hill; laughing aloud.
he rose from their bench,
lured by the gorgeous oak tree
fought back tears, as he slid down the trunk,
knees to his chest; fingers wrapped in his scarf.
he read what they etched only a few days ago,
hers read "you are my oak, forever you are my love"
his read "my scarf is your heart; you are my soul"
he kissed the etchings; cheeks streaming tears.
glancing down at their bench he froze, watching;
a young couple with steaming cups of coffee
gooey cinnamon buns peeking through a paper bag,
he rolled down the hill; his scarf,her spirt,in hand.
pulling carefully a piece of fringe from his scarf
he carefully placed it in the young man's hand
smiling, he watched them hold one another close;
in their park, on their bench,now; a new love bloomed
she forever lives in him, their park, their bench
the etchings, her laughter, the love in her eyes.
his scarf, her soul; eternally they are entwined.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2007
Today, I lie in the stillness of the night
Listening for you breathing
The silence hard to bear,
Without you here beside me
The emptiness, the loneliness
Is more than I can endure
I am but an empty shell,
Living, yet not alive,
It was you and you alone
That made me whole
But, tomorrow is another day
And although my future now is unclear,
Second by second
Minute by minute
Hour by hour
The memories we shared
Will make me stronger.
Copyright © Janette Fisher | Year Posted 2010
You take such good care of me.
I often wonder
if I’m deserving.
You treasure and behold
my inner beauty—
You love with a generous
that yearns to please,
to be respected and
loved as you are.
How could I not love and
admire a giant of a man
who blesses my life in so many ways?
Our feelings run very deep—
Deeper than either one of
us can comprehend.
Those feelings cross the earthly
barriers of Time.
They vibrate at such
that your thoughts,
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015
He woke and saw his beloved asleep with one breast partially exposed
And with his fantastic limp he works his way to the kitchen
He made coffee for her with croissant lathered with jam
Gently he pulled at the exposed women and gestures with the tray
Happily she wakes and with great affection reaches for him
Coffee is second and pastries with jam come close to him
But he is first and the love hits him like the wind
Gently it began and gale force now
He had to lash himself so he wouldn't be swept away
And it grew
She always lay in their position and there was no other
He would mold himself to her and tease her nipple
He came home weathered from the battle and with grief
Friends had been shot by snipers and the heat
He had seen a woman with a basket approach his friend
And she dropped the basket and pulled the belt
The explosion deafened him and his comrade's face is gone
Fragments hit him but he is running to his friend
But the friend lays silent
Gazing to the wetness on his leg he falls
He is deafened and wakes in terror and looks upon the leg
And finding himself in bed she tries to talk with him
But he claim's it's a bad dream and the basket falling
The limp was his reminder of that day and he eats the croissant for his friend
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
Your sweet nectar
wraps around my senses
like jungle vines
steady drums beating
Your heart near mine
Your strong hands
hold me suspended
by my waist
Just enough pain and strength
against my supple skin
For my taste
The musk of your
sculpted body and the forest
has me going wild
But yet, the tender way you
protect me, reminds me of
Being a child
A safe familiarity
with a strain of animalistic
Your invisible hold over me
leaves me arrow poisoned
Unable to function
My long dark hair wraps you
with smells of coconut and ocean Sun
your locks full of mud and enemies
together, my warrior
We make One
Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010
Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms
And for a moment I'm lost
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love
And there you are - holding it
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then -
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.
Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.
Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating,
each word you speak intensifies
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way.
The sun magnifying each strand,
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color,
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.
Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
If I had only one day left with you,
I would ask that day be in God's own time,
one day, a lifetime, every moment
an expression of love,
every hour a new adventure.
twenty four hours to slowly pass
with you at my side,
a never-ending dream,
always giving thanks,
one day left with you,
would be eternity.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
How could I have known
that the beauty of it all
would rob me of coherent speech.
That my eyes would find all else
pale in comparison.
Ears that once they have heard
such a passionate calling
would never want anothers song.
How could I have known
Featured Poem on Poetry Soup February 7, 2010
Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2010
It's so easy
to play the blame game
to be unrealistically expectant
to want perfection
It's so easy
to want you to mold yourself
into my concept
of the ideal man
to fill in all the cracks
of what's broken in me
it's so easy
how often have I tried
heart and soul and mind
to be what you need
how often have I failed
to hold you together
and make you complete
that's not so easy
that's not so easy for me
I hope I finally learn
perfection doesn't exist
there is no perfect spouse
there is no perfect love
because we are not perfect human beings
we are fallible
only God is infallible
only His love is unconditional
we are imperfect beings
in an imperfect world
there is so much beauty
in the imperfection
of you and me!
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
For two long years, maybe more
You lurked in hibernation, silently sleeping
Waiting for the time you reared your ugly head
The surgeons couldn’t find you
But in our hearts we knew you were there
Test after test – a waiting brief
You stole away our lives like a silent thief
Then finally they found you
Hidden away in the depths of his body
Waiting for the chance to create more damage
But finally they were ready for you
To eradicate this blight from our lives
You were no match for the robotic machine
And not the surgeon’s knife
He was there sitting behind a console
And he took away your life
Prostate cancer you are gone
And we are finally free.
Entered into 101 in a row contest # 4 sponsored by PD Linda:-)
15th February 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Thunder and lightning ruled the black night
As the frightened young mother struggled
Beads of sweat ran down her pretty face
The old midwife calmly sponged off sweat
She hummed a lullaby to soothe her pain
Praying that the husband would be back soon
Five miles to travel in treacherous weather
Seeking the one doctor for hundreds of miles
Twelve hours of labor now seemed like days.
Fell trees and shaved off roof tops, toppled by whipping winds
Rising rivers were swollen, and flooded make shift roads
Endless rain poured like there would be no end
Meanwhile her unborn child lay bridged as it battled for release
Suddenly the door burst open and the doctor rushed in
His clothes sticking to his skin; there was no time to change
With his palm he felt her forehead asking pertinent questions
He and the old midwife tried manually to turn the exhausted child
At each attempt, mother’s painful cry was heard in the distance
She gave one guttural scream and usherd her baby into the world
The child, born limp, barely breathing as the mid wife took her away
He starred into her eyes, and knew that she was beyond his help
He brought the new born to lie in her mother’s warm arms
The silence was noticeable; the raging storm had passed
The sound of light rain, now a comfort, gently tapped upon tin roof
In a soft, weak voice she called her husband and managed a smile
Then she blessed her child with words from a mother’s heart
“May you be a light, swift as lightning when days grow dark.”
“May you have wisdom and foresight beyond your days”
“May your heart nurture and remain open to love”
“Like rain, may you bring life to all “
“Born this stormy night, your name will be “Rain”.
By : Audrey Carey
Note: Imagination at work:) Written for Constance's "Rain, The Story" Contest.
My imagination took me to some little village in Africa. This scene is played out in
many villages where health care is non-existent. However, there's always, thanks
to God, a wise, caring "midwife" to help mothers during delivery.
Everyday, countless miracles are performed by God through "midwives"!
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010
My husband... has never minded
eating a vegetable he doesn't like
just so they will eat theirs...
Or eating half smashed, soggy potato chips
out of clammy little hands,
when they've decided they would like to share...
He's fine... letting them play hairdresser...
sitting patiently, while they curl his hair,
He will play Old Maid, pretending to have a sour face...
all the while letting them win
He doesn't mind drinking muddy looking tea
from a tiny little cup, that is too small for his fingers
Or sitting out in the blazing sun
on a hot summer afternoon
watching them stay cool, as they frolic in the sprinklers
He shows excitement
over a Popsicle stick
glued onto cardboard,
and tied with a bow....
exclaiming it to be his favorite birthday gift...
He doesn't mind taking them up and down the aisles of Wal Mart
for an hour, while they decide how to spend their dollar
He would rather spend his day playing hopscotch
than a round of golf
He's their Grandpa.........
Just one more reason why I love him
"A Good Man" Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Rayne
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
if he were to write me a love poem, would it breathe
like the quintessence of begin? would it live
as the moon to the sea – as precise as the art
of expanse along kismets journey, and all horizons linear?
would it wind-wash and rush my untouched
expanse, as a field soft and wild, exhaling through hair?
would you hear all of my hurt as it crashes to floors; crashing
through my glass floors, formed by years of perfected neglect;
(reverberating through centuries of cause and effect)
or would it die in my hands;
turn to dust
to read his undying words, such as my deepest imaginings
can conjure, would be as if the very sun had come to rest beneath
my bosom, shining exponentially forth every wish and dream i have
ever harbored within the safe haven of my yearnings, since long
before the birth of time itself!
o’, words given from the depths of my hearts deliberate daydreams,
from the vastness of your perpetual being,
would surely render my mind useless, striking my fluttering
body numb, and alive all at once!
if my love ever wrote me a love poem, i would answer
by way of warm lips on eyelids, (weary from longing
and unrequited need) gliding them
down his fair face, kissing years of spent tears into the oblivion that is
no more (the culmination of death and the sweet realization
of answered prayers), and yet
i would no sooner ask him to write me a love poem, then I would
expose my longing to receive one.
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2008
This is a poem about the future I'd love to have with the boy of my dreams.
None of this has actually happened yet (besides us falling in love with eachother) but it's how I would like it to happen.
Once upon a time, I became the luckiest girl in the world. I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes, and he actually loved me back. He was like my prince, he treated me like his princess and would do anything for me. Today, we're united as King and Queen. It's been years, but walking down the aisle I'm still staring at the cutest, most perfect guy I've ever seen. When our lips finally meet after parting to say "I do", it tastes like Heaven.
Once upon a time, I married a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. And today, I saw those perfect blue eyes light up when he first held our little girl in his arms. She's got her Daddy's blue eyes and just a little bit of her Momma's brown hair. She's going to be spoiled and loved more than possible. She'll know we support her no matter what, and she can tell us everything. It will be perfect.
Once upon a time, one set of blue eyes became two, and we were made into a family. Now, that second pair of blue eyes is walking out the door to college, with a suitcase in one hand and a boy's hand in the other. He better love her and treat her just as well as her Daddy does.
Once upon a time, I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. His hair has dulled and grayed but his eyes are the same, and they've seen a lifetime's worth of happiness and love. My baby had babies with the boy she walked out the door with, and I can tell she loves them as much as we loved her. Now it's her time to live.
Copyright © Megan Devon | Year Posted 2013
I looked into your eyes
And seen the rise and set of the sun
I felt your heart
For it only beat for me
I felt your kiss
And it tasted sweeter than wine
You held me in your arms
And I wanted to stay there forever
I looked back at our life
I wanted no other
And as the years pass away
I know you will stay
For the eyes still shine
And the heart still beats
And the kisses and hugs
Come to me each day
Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2008
that first breath after hearing Beethoven
inhaling life from him
John’s many gifts to me
feeling his tears at La Boheme
hearing him laugh at Carmen
sharing the shock of a trembling “Equus”* audience
Broadway, Times Square, Rockefeller Center
hours of sharing our innermost secrets
strolling through Central Park
John, you opened my eyes, my world
but failed to teach me one thing...
how to live “Without You”*
*"Equus" is a play by Peter Shaffer
*"Without You" by Nilsson was our song
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012