Best Comfortable Poems
Closure eludes my clasp
Love wilts, somehow lasts
The destination beyond my grasp
The dream decays day by day
Your light, which never fades
Simply stopped shinning my way
Castrating chains of second chair
Faithfull, I wither for you there
Sucking stale stagnant air
Barely beating beneath my breast
My heart, now a hospice
Gently lays it all to rest
Lightly felt faintly heard
Pumping, pain-numbing words
Its over…its over… its over
Some painters challenge us with art abstract
We study them and speculate intent
My love, he takes the short route; it’s a fact
He speaks three words, no question what he meant
The intellectuals look for new ways
To speak of love in words no one has heard
Or verse for songs that no one ever plays
For love is truly greater than a word
His aqua eyes convey a heart that’s true
On chilly nights, his warm arms hold me close
No words he speaks, but do not misconstrue
When love is true, who needs the grandiose
We’ve learned to find peace in the quiet time
Together any steep path we can climb
February 5, 2020
Come to my room,
Wear your perfume,
Take off your tears,
Hang up your fears,
And slip into something comfortable,
Like my arms, like my arms, like my love,
Something comfortable.
Come here, sit down,
Take off your frown,
Remove your pain,
You’ll see things plain,
And slip into something comfortable,
Like my arms, like my arms, like my love,
Something comfortable.
We can lock the world away, our love is like a key,
Come a little closer, let’s unlock some ecstasy,
Step into the light and let me look into your eyes,
We can make this last until the morning sun will rise.
Here’s what to do,
Let me take you,
And you take me,
And then you will see,
Me slip into something comfortable,
Like your arms, like your arms like your love,
Something comfortable ,
Like our love, like our love, like our love.
On my walk the other day once again in the early morn
I realized the shoes I’m wearing are the only shoes I’ve ever worn.
I’ve never walked in a Native American’s shoes…never felt the back of America’s hand
as the ones who came here after me threw me off my land.
I have never worn the shoes of an immigrant…never felt their sorrow or their strife
having to leave a country they love…to search for a better life.
I’ve never walked in a black person’s shoes…never worried in my daily nine to five…
never wondered as I started my day….if I would make it home alive.…
I have never walked in a woman’s shoes…I’ve never been downcast
at being paid less for doing the same job as a man…
I’ve never been sexually assaulted or harassed.
I’ve never walked in a poor person’s shoes
never braved the winter cold or summer heat
without a house to call my own…without enough food to eat.
I’ve never walked in a gay or lesbian’s shoes…never felt societies shove
just because they see me as different…just because of who I love.
I’ve never walked in a Muslim’s shoes…never thought I would see the day
people wanted me out of this country…just because of the way I pray.
I never walked in a policeman’s or a soldier’s shoes
Never felt their fear, their pain, their strife…
I’ve never had anyone shoot at me
never feared for my well being or life
Yes, my shoes have been quite comfortable…every shoe I’ve ever bought
but that doesn’t mean I don’t listen to the voices of the people whose shoes are not.
So I will use my vote…I will raise my voice
I will stand behind…or in a protest line
working and praying for the day everyone’s shoes
are as comfortable as mine.
True Love is like a pair of comfortable slippers
that go together, but don't quite fit
but have room to grow and give
when their lived in.
They get worn and a bit dog eared over time
but, become so hard to throw away
because they are comfortable and familiar
They are betterl as a pair
than in their own
.peter Dome. copyright 2012.
Life could be better, but easily worse.
Sometimes I feel blessed; other times cursed.
As I get older, I look back and see—
Life’s mostly better when you are with me
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
Sometimes we argue, but don’t really fight.
I know you love me, so it’s all right.
You know I love you, so it’s plain to see
Life’s clearly better when you are with me
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
I’m movin’ forward, but keep lookin’ back.
Anything missing? Anything lack.
With hindsight vision, I look back and see--
Life’s always better when you are with me.
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
Like my special comfortable chair
I'm reassured your always there
when I need you.
Providing a comfortable cushion
against harsh ravishes and rigors
of life.
My sanctuary
my my love
my heart and soul
my wife
my life.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013.July.
no conversation
we already understand
lay down beside me…
dawn loosens her grip
fluttering
d
o
w
n
ward
into where i used to live-
she peeps through emerald
blades of willows weeping;
a myriad of butterflies gently
sway off into faraway lands…
fading and barely seeing-
flap
flap
flap - -
farewell my beautiful being
day releases dusk-
streaming stars settle in sonorous susurration;
the grey glazed moon bows his subtle head,
and all the somnolent constellations shine...shine for me
i drown in innocent tranquility,
being all that i can be
for i am but a whisper of dawn
in a dalliance of dusk,
leaping into daydreams and stardust-
o’er the sunrise in the east is my home,
amongst the crying crickets is where I
rest my head;
listening to their monotone spin of
repetition I close my eyes and adrift
the dreams nighttime offers…
i sleep in comfortable silence
______________________________
January 20, 2020
My mother wore a duster
(Or a housedress) ‘round the house,
Which was once the garb of women
(Even lacking kids or spouse).
It was likely made of cotton
In a shift-style meant for ease,
Much more comfortable for housework
Than a pair of dungarees.
I’m not sure if stores still sell them
But the reasoning was right,
For when I’m at home I’m wearing
Clothes the opposite of tight.
They may be quite old and baggy
But they’re just the togs for me
Since the most important rule of home
Is comfort is the key.
Somber; Mist outside.
It falls with quiet beauty.
Unforeseen Comfort.
My home is small but comfortable
To me and to my spouse.
It doesn’t have the room we’d get
If we lived in a house.
Yet here we raised our children
And we entertained as well.
Our guests felt warm and welcomed,
Least as far as I can tell.
It doesn’t take too much to make
A snug and cozy home,
Just like one need not be Robert Frost
To write a decent poem.
Fear.
Ugly comfortable,
Like a greasy comforter you can
wrap your nerve-ending-tingling sad
body in.
Never moving from the safe spot,
Ignoring the undiscovered
wilderness.
Right there in the cold.
Snow and sky,
frozen trees snapping.
Life.
Lemon grass & ginger broth
mint lamb an sorrel
asparagus,soft egg sauce
strawberry sponge with
black pepper ice cream
confort food
Try!
You obtain all things precious
then store in your silos tight
others you help them to beg
that is comfortable suffering
but you do not believe in it
You grab all powers that be
in your pockets they are zipped
others come and kneel with bribes
that is comfortable suffering
but your too are tightly zipped
The precious things of this world
the powers that balloons persons
the dignity that are denied of others
come to selected humans for custody
as custodians sharing is paramount