Love Charlotte Poems

Hair of honey brown and gold
Simply gorgeous truth be told
Eyes of steel gray, powder blue
Pierce my heart that's what they do 
Rendered speechless at their...

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Gorgeous Charlotte was the goddess of illegal sex,
no restrictions applied to her naughty affections;
I met her last December at the Platinum Dolls...
driving everybody wild, even...

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I was a minister of the gospel, very happily living my life for the Lord,
Preaching the Word every Sunday, in the spirit of affinity and...

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Me: Say Charlotte, is your story true?
C: It’s fictional, now are we through?

Me: So are you rich from telling yarns?
C: I’ve got nice threads, but...

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Childhood friends helped each other
Known since we are 8, 9 years old
They helped me with Gen. Austin- a scammer
I fell, was hard but I accepted

Now,...

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She came back like she said she would.
Great grandma was not a typical ghost
She was a kindred spirit guiding for good
Just when we needed her...

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for Ted it is defacto
for Wendy it is marriage
they cannot agree
until a baby carriage
because Ted’s mother wears the pants
and he quickly folds

for Charlotte it is...

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In early eighteen-forty-four,
In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor,
Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid,
Had her throat slit with a steel blade,
She crossed fast streams and deadly...

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Act 4.

Marat

Where do these tears come from? My makeup
is melting in the spotlight. She has gone.
Oh, how I wished to tell her… I did not.
I...

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Act 3. A dark, empty stage.

Marat
(standing up)

My eyes went blank. That's how it goes when
you have been doubly knocked flat on your back
in half an...

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Act 2. A dark, empty stage.

Marat
(standing up)

It's all a blur. It’s all a little dizzy. 
I just have dreamed a scary dream as if 
two...

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(A somnambulistic drama in four acts)

Actors:

Jean-Paul Marat; 
Charles Barbarou;
Charlotte Corday;
1st Philosopher;
2nd Philosopher;
The Commentator’s Voice.

Act 1. A tavern. Two philosopher sit at the table; 
Marat sits...

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I observe her from across the room, and I ask myself, is she real. Her long raven black hair falls softly across her shoulders. A...

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Nostalgia captures my lone heart’s ear
as I drift along these mournful days.
Not sad for a life lost to death,
but of affections lost to time.

I’m fearful...

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I will always right remember
   days that went all through September.
Days so innocent and meek
   swinging, chasing, hide-and-seek.

We were just children,...

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