Bookmark Poems - Poems about Bookmark

lavender ribbons from your hair lay against the pages I love to read so much and as I turned the pages the smell of your hair makes me love the words even more as I envision our last touch. Such was ours a bittersweet journey which was so impossible for me to disembark because my darling for me you were a romance story but for you I wasn't even...

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peace is needed today i drive to a quiet place people are taking a back seat today i turn on some rare 60s and 70s afrobeat i need to calm down and recharge i need the medicinal assistance of a place where i can just breathe and take in normalcy has me so numb right now here i am the robins and the...

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One wonderful trait about being human is the ability to reminisce… to remember people, places, things and moments that have happened…that we miss. Take our house for instance its floors and walls and ceiling are lined with a myriad of memories our children left behind. Floating in the air…they wait…and we would be remiss If we didn’t stop and catch a...

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A heart shaped bookmark Marked blank page waiting for words For unknown reasons Lost in the mist of the night Found in the pristine morning...

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And there began our oral history. Removed from text, living and breathing. Passed back and forth between lips. I myself a promise, her oath. The anxious lump that hesitates in the back of the throat. The inner most of courage exchanged in deep sigh. Finding it impossible to hold on to my own words. I hold on to hers, and it...

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a pressed rose between worn out pages her fading scent...

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A bookmark separates the future From the part that’s passed. The pages that it’s stuck between Remind us what came last. Each day we live’s a bookmark then; We know what’s come before But what comes next may bring us Brand-new vistas to explore… Or maybe not. No way to tell What’s waiting in the wings. We turn the page, the bookmark moves, No matter what...

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my back hurting i go straight to the bed and lay on my stomach i escape to a world that i have been so long accustomed to then out of nowhere, i feel a pair of warm, soft hands begin to massage my back i turn to look at the face connected to the unusually caring hands then i remember...

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From between pages the forgotten petal falls Her scent still lingers ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ a pressed rose in between pages his fading scent...

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there is indeed a place in my heart cordoned off for only you though you left me seeing black, my love for you remained infinitely intact as a result, there is no comprehension of a covenant for no one comes close to the flawless fusion in which you so elegantly possess knowing this, i intentionally retrace my steps everytime i think...

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Joseph the Christ figure giraffe bookmark wooly resents that penultimate comment and tells me whut “ALL NEW MATERIAL. CONFORMS” Of what does he speak? What madness? “TO TOY SAFETY REGULATIONS” The turning phrase! A thousand old Buddhas stand speechless!...

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