Best Here And There Poems
I'm here again
Checking you out
Missing you again
Calling out
I'm here again
Taking you out
Kissing you again
Chilling out
Here we go again
Thinking where to go
Under the sun again
Outshining and ready to go
There we go again
Hanging on tree top lines
Under the clouds again
Unzipping the borderlines
Our world will never end
Up and down the bend
Left and right we hold so tight
For so much love we'll strongly fight
You’re here.
I can see the goodness of your café au lait skin turning mocha in the sun.
I can smell the sweat over your right brow as it slides down your cheek, mixing with the morning’s aftershave.
I hear the velvet rhythm of your baritone when your words tap dance on my timpani reciting the days events.
And I bathe in the sensation of it all.
For I know you are there.
There where you want to be.
With her and her friends.
Embracing her. Groping her.
Feeling the heat of her across your lips.
Even as you sit here with me
I feel the angst in your body
as your bones and sinew pull towards her.
Aching to get there.
And I smile,
and I nod,
and I give a soft chuckle,
hoping that my subtle flirtations
will keep you here,
just a bit longer.
I kiss you,
praying I can warm you from the inside
just as she does.
But I know I can’t.
I know you will leave
and run to her,
leaving me here,
loving her there.
copyright 2016 rapsedeblu/'raps?de blü
Just a writer who needs to write.
I.
I think on my shoes propped
on a wooden writing desk,
the leather synthetics, the soles, the
wear, and the feet they protect - feet
which take me here to there,
and, again, to here and there.
She walks in and says "hello", with
a kiss and the usual small talk, as
if to say "I love you" in the little
things (the home we've made, the life
we've built, the not-so-little-after-all
things, you know).
II.
I watch her lines as they move
in poetic form, her slope, her glow,
and the soul of a woman who takes
me here to there, and, again, to
here and there.
She's the fogged breath on my
telescope which blurs the
view of comets in outer space.
That is to say, she completes
me.
If I think on here ways, the
red-washed waves of her cheek,
and her blood orange hair that
licks the salty sea, I find it's too much.
She, lensed by angels and brisk as
ghosts, is all I know. We each breathe
fogged breath to blur the scope,
and like weathered boots in the snow,
from here to there, and, again, to here
and there she will be,
and, again, to here and there - that's where I will go.
HERE AND THERE
Back in the golden days,
Rich as the grave yard,
Always thinking of my wicked ways,
Pain feared as a bluffing card,
Laughing Love away as it comes,
Running away as it approaches,
seeking benefits from broken souls,
though all seems I am that broken soul.
Looking at her beautiful soul I got glued,
From the beginning crushed this is the interlude,
Today my heart filled with trust and hope,
Things without I should not cope,
Then she smiles and happiness rises,
In a slope love for her grows within.
THE LOVING OW-JAY
Let here’s longest night
In the sun’s windchilled shadow
Be there’s brightest day
Here and there
I can see
frauds at ease
Here and there
can observe
Honesty at seize
Here and there
I can notice
Criticism
to the tops
Here and there
can discern
Innocents
with mops
Here and there
I am aware of
Catastrophs
at praise
Here and There
I observe
Evils that raise
Here and there
Too you can see
Developing devils
Here and there
The world is aware
Of evil mills
It's that world
somebody feels
of the same
status with evil deeds
But can do nothing
He can only stare
With feet as bare
On the sticks of fire
Know it
Feel it
Stop it
Heavy tears on her face
No where to jog or bike trails to ride
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
Making new friends is not easy
Neighborhood folk want right past her
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
Cows on milk cartons instead of in the field
Eggs splash on windshields not in frying pans
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
Hotdogs for lunch instead of brats
Doesn’t everyone do fish fry Friday
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
Bubbler and water fountain are a laugh
Loan me a pen or borrow me a pen
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
Assimilation can be tough for a newcomer
Learning new things and keeping the old
Wishing for the joys of home
Somewhere not in the city
An early morning appetiser to help breakfast go down better. TC
This just to whet your appetite
As A Fly Does
What would it be like to be a Fly?
Buzzing around wondering why
Flitting from lampshade to curtain and back,
Dodging the cobwebs and flyswats that crack
Landing on baldheads about to sleep,
Tickling their forearms and couping a “bleep”
How silly a fly simply has to be,
Annoying people just like a flea
Stirring them up to a frightful degree,
Until one can’t stand it and flattens at least three
Who can blame them it can’t be much fun,
The higher they fly the nearer the sun
Regurgitating on ordure and eating it up
Then walking awhile on the lip of your cup
Flies can madden a man to the enth degree,
Making one itch to kill far more than three
But it is only a little insect with a penchant to infect
Doing things peculiar to a lonely insect
Just like we do and the folks they inspect
They proliferate and swiftly inject
A modicum of frustration is generated as I do no doubt
When I’ve gotten under one’s skin and made her pout
Intelligence is remarkable, is it in a fly?
Smarter ones appear to be there as they go on bye
Some certainly keep away, others are a pest
I reckon the further ones are those that know best
If you were a fly would you try to die?
Who would want to linger around a fresh turd pie
Don’t be absurd I hear you ply
You were always ready to give anything a try
This poem by TC is not only great. It is delirious.
When I said that Terry said Horn, are you serious.
Ho Ho
I cut my own hair
and prune my own bushes
own several pairs of striped socks
and dress conservative
however
I have strange ideas that another time and place
would have placed me into awkward situations
such as being burned at the stake
or in control of a beehive
madam of a harem
or shuffling litter with a broom
at the Biltmore
please,
when shall I make up my mind?
HERE AND THERE
Born and spent childhood in suburb
of West Bengal, India.
Rather rustic and innocent by nature.
Higher education and academic career brought
further exposure.
Journey of life made me acquainted with city life
to attain sophistication.
Yet all activities restricted to West Bengal.
Built up family with two beloved daughters.
Both now pursuing brilliant career,
Being American citizen.
Obliviously I have developed attachment with USA,
spending three months a year on average.
I consider my birthplace as home-town.
My permanent residence in Kolkata,
having a second home in Philadelphia.
06/20/17
Where Are You from? Contest by Joseph Soper
Here and there, people grow;
Grow by life’s challenges.
Challenges multiply but go;
Go to new lands.
Lands are here and there for better;
Better for green pastures.
Pastures inviting people and animals;
Animals certainly trail weather.
Weather’s sometimes attractive;
Attractiveness brought us here.
Here is one more struggle;
For life is all about wounds and scars.
Scars can go; others remain indelible.
Indelible because we live to experience;
Experience for building our humanity.
Humanity on a new land here;
Here is not the endless end.
Poem by Ndabuli Mugisho
You are two things distinct,
that exist yet unfurled
You as yourself,
and as part of the world
Fundamentally the same,
but functionally unpaired
Your story twice told
—as you’re here and then there
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Care May Be Here and There
may be here and there
for everyone we should care
with much left to spare
must be perfection
what consists of protection
in each direction
we want revision
of what was a division
with God's [permission
so poor we will be
now an endangered specie
from sin God saved me
candy could consume
for it had to make more room
for sweet bride and groom
death on door did knock
ended up in state of shock
we were short in stock
heard that God had called
some day soon will have been bald
by lion might be mauled
we must wear a mask
which was all that they would ask
than completed task
Jim Horn
Which way should I take?
When both lead to despair,
The sweet calm of the lake
Or ever-changing rush of air.
I want to stay right here
With the fish and my wrinkled toes,
Outside the air brings with it fear
And where it leads nobody knows.
But the lake is dark and deep
Disguising things I want to hide,
And should I, in my numbness, sleep
There’s less chance I’d wake as i would outside.
And on the bank there’s mud and dirt
And friends who’ll want to talk to me
And with my bad luck I might slip, get hurt;
I’d rather be numb; I’d rather stay free.
But now they’re screaming, calling out
And threatening to pull out the boat,
I try to sink, to drown their shouts
But something inside keeps me afloat
I sigh and slowly drift ashore
A smile freshly smeared on my face
I tell them I’m cold, they don’t ask me more,
I look back at the water; I feel out of place
Because there I was numb, as I’d swim and I’d dive,
Here I’m cold, wet and glum, but here I’m alive.
My Love I bring to you again
So you better don’t break me another time
With no gain I give my self
Through rough and tough I promise to stand by…
You’re love that meant not something to be compared
The breath I took for my whole life to be shared!
Your body and beyond I want to make love
That feeling with you is heaven and above!
You might leave and time too pass
But that I had for you will be the last
Yes ill live another world alive
In thoughts of you I sure can survive!
Should I call this precious or holy?
This breath and feel is felt so dearly
And the day we part, we will part to be one
When the days are red and trees no more stand,
We will part here and there be one!