Best Valerie Poems
Shadows
Engulf my heart
That Valerie did break
Please come back home dear Valerie
My sweet
Paranoia, thy name is Valerie
My buried bones you've bared.
My skeleton is out of the bag
And my cat is out of the closet.
I feel exposed to the discernment of a despot.
I cannot hide, cannot secrete, cannot cover my shame.
My guilt en-clothes me
And remorse envelopes me like a shroud.
I wish for the cloths of Heaven
But get only the habiliments of a mendicant.
I long for the raiment of a royal
But I'm clad in the rags of a ruminant.
All that glitters isn't gold
And all that reeks isn't excretia.
So I'll stand on my purloined principles
And lament my lack of laurels.
Like Sisyphus seeking his summit
Or a Prometheus that forgot his fire.
But I'll insist on my fated freedom
Like the bird on the wire, or the drunk in a midnight choir,
I have tried, in my way, to be free.
Blood is thicker than water
They say this much is true
And I guess I can attest to this
Anytime I'm around you
You are my confidant
My friend til the end
No other can dissuade
Problems that fall away like petals
You provide a comfort like no one
A shelter in a homeless life
Tears that might have been shed
If not for your love and might
There's not enough time or space to say
How much I cherish all your ways
My wonderful friend you are an angel
Simply put I love you for all of my days
I’ve been to many places
Seen so many faces
All in less than just a million paces.
I found you when I was young
Knowing you, made me strong.
You were the beginning of my fantasies,
The picture of my future, dream and true smile.
Was it really you?
The creamy, silky, hazel-eyed beauty.
Your charming smiles and steady walk makes my heart talk.
How far apart can we be?
‘Cos I can’t stop thinking.
Was it really you?
The one that cries when I’m blue.
You pick me up when I fall and shade me from the sun.
Can’t wait to call you mine, can’t wait to walk down the isle-
With you and only you- my Valentine.
Was it really you?
‘Cos I can’t stop searching till I find.
Was it really you?
‘Cos our love is written in the stars.
Will it be you, my Valerie?
Happiness is an achievement, not an entity to borrow
I’m a borderline cynic, motivated only somewhat by tomorrow
Despite friendly intentions, aggression paves my road
Seemingly simple yet harshly taciturn, I carry not a light load
People think me judgmental, but it’s really just distrust
I open myself up to those around me, only if I must
Raised as a burden, my mantra is one of practicality
Yet I crave to be noticed, not just cast off as a triviality
Hesitant indeed, my sleepless eyes and fumbling hands
It is impossible to meet your every demand
“Please meet me halfway”, I type with my fingers
Ephemeral is your presence, as it no longer lingers
I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of
her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation.. One hour
later I picked her up. She looked enchanting... We drove out to Woodstock,
home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family.
There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures
of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the
restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed.
When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget;
the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down
to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of
the setting sun. She stood there, speechless for a moment. I squeezed
her hand and we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken.
We were both grateful for the day we had spent together.
It was just the two of us. Time had stopped, and only that moment mattered.
Veronica, Veronica
Valerie, Valerie
oh! blond hair and perky breasts
tan legs and hot lips
when oh when will you be mine
not my girlfriend
no you're not that kind
but I have a use for you
and though it's a shame
after all I'm only a man
who can I be to blame
your soft skin and that sweet look
drive me crazy
and soon my sweet girls
for at least one night
both of you can be mine
The desperate eyes
pools of water clean.
The river of her past
I must travel upstream.
In a moment of time
I am placed in a boat.
Oars are my hands
I must not float.
I set my heart
against the flow.
Through snares and branches
‘tis her I must know.
Round each bend
I push my boat.
My arms are tired
I must never float.
Sometimes raging
through rapids I go.
Then tranquil and calm
‘tis her I must know.
The rushing sound
a waterfall near.
I know this place
I have seen this fear.
The torrent of water
an impassable wall.
How did she survive?
such a fall.
A waterfall
I cannot ascend.
To shore I row
‘round the next bend.
I carry my boat
through jungle deep.
Up up the
mountain steep.
I reach the top
to see a lake.
Still and calm
without a wake.
There is current here
a secret flow.
Pulling you back
to what is below.
I strain my arms
and push my boat.
Hands blistered and torn
I start to float.
I know the fall
that will come.
‘could she have known
what could she have done?
I close my eyes
and feel the fear.
But see the face
that brought me here.
With longing now
I strain my heart.
To see the eyes
at the start.
I push I fight
my life is spent.
Madness takes me
my clothes are rent.
I wildly thrash
and move my boat.
‘gainst the flow
I will not float!
I break through
the barrier unseen.
I am near
I rest I dream.
Then I see
my longing found
Where two black pools
and love abound.
It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room,
mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile
and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine.
At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested
an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered
the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.
The day was simply beautiful! There was a breeze cool enough
to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked
inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine.
I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us
into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon,
some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we
took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one
another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling
the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole
to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the
river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left
clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable
laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I
because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with
the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank.
We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing
each other like two children at play.
With blackened palms I rise from the ashes as the last one standing.
The only one left on this forsaken planet who understands what its like to live in the arms of the one I love.
With bleeding hands I pry you away from the demons of the world.
All the things on this earth than can harm you.
With bloodshot eyes, I look into yours as I collapse into your lap.
I fought so hard to have you and I grow weary from the battle.
With blood drenched ears which have heard the lies of the world, I listen to the sound of your voice.
I hear your words and I smile.
As my heart is torn from my chest, I realize I still stand, fighting the war for you.
Bleeding from head to toe, I wage war against all who will hurt you.
I stare into your eyes as my heart fails to beat just one last time.
With tired feet, I stand. And with blooded arms, I wrap myself around you.
As I walk away, all my wounds are healed.
As the last man standing, you give me your heart.
You wash my hands and you let me rest on you.
When I wake from my slumber, you're still by my side.
Fighting a battle for me.
I wake and I rise, and I pick up my sword.
Fighting for us side by side
Amy,
Check out 27
Back to black
Pick up required on the floor of a London flat
Valerie just abandoned her comeback
Farewell sweet raven
You piper of pain
Love is a loosing game
I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of
her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation.. One hour
later I picked her up. She looked enchanting... We drove out to Woodstock,
home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family.
There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures
of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the
restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed.
When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget;
the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down
to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of
the setting sun. She stood there, speechless for a moment. I squeezed
her hand and we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken.
We were both grateful for the day we had spent together.
It was just the two of us. Time had stopped, and only that moment mattered.
It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room,
mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile
and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine.
At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested
an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered
the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.
The day was simply beautiful! There was a breeze cool enough
to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked
inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine.
I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us
into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon,
some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we
took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one
another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling
the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole
to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the
river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left
clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable
laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I
because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with
the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank.
We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing
each other like two children at play.
It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room,
mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile
and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine.
At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested
an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered
the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.
The day was simply beautiful! There was a breeze cool enough
to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked
inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine.
I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us
into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon,
some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we
took no heed. We wore jeans and sweatshirts and were enjoying one
another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling
the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole
to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the
river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left
clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable
laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I
because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with
the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank.
We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing
each other like two children at play.
It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room,
mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile
and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine.
At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested
an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered
the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.
The day was simply beautiful! There was a breeze cool enough
to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked
inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine.
I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us
into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon,
some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we
took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one
another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling
the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole
to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the
river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left
clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable
laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I
because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with
the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank.
We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing
each other like two children at play.