I don’t know you anymore
it took nine months
I don’t know you anymore
and yet I’ve known you my whole life
I don’t know you anymore
i came with expectations
I don’t know you anymore
you had different aspirations
I don’t know you anymore
and the new things people ask me about
I don’t know you anymore
i wonder if people ever ask you about me
I don’t know you anymore
you look at me like you know me
But I don’t know you anymore
so introduce yourself to me
Because I don’t know who you are
yet i’m still left with this gigantic scar
Really I don’t know who this person is
staring at me with familiarity
you’re someone i don’t recognize
and i never got to say goodbye
to the person i once knew very well
and now all that’s left between us is
echoes of broken promises and empty shells
Hello stranger it’s nice to meet you
I don’t know who you are anymore
Can you introduce me?
I am over it,
I'm cancelling it,
Marriage? I am not a vow,
Until I see what I saw,
I left the effect of Aww,
I lead my life in a soar,
Please, I don't even need to listen,
My skin is still glowing and porcelain,
There is nothing to claim,
Please, for all my attornies to shut down his name,
I have my own game,
They are all the same,
I am waiting for someone special,
I don't need to feel regret,
The drama is already on set,
We just met,
I listen to the Angel's harp,
The melody is so well-played,
Still don't know me,
I get myself ahead of the game,
I am not your fool anymore,
As I am searching for more,
I would not allow myself to soar,
Without my new lover,
Who does not take me for a sober,
That one is not my beauty rival,
I already have another arrival,
Of my foremost Idol,
Whom they mistook for her,
They are like snobbish and snorty goblins,
Trying to snatch away the frenzies and even my Clairins,
I have my reasons,
Unlike her, she is not herself,
Blown out of proportion,
Oh, she bit herself again,
Bye, bye not seeing you again.
exquisite affair
by invitation only
with valet parking
revelers come bearing gifts
want to make an impression
written July 15, 2021
in park like beauty
tidy hedges and prim blooms ~
elegant wildness
The sweetest love I've ever known
is when she spoke to me
And she was able to
And I was free
When my heart said
you can live
and death left me
to give
When the world became one with me
and I was not deserving
And the love I felt for her
was chaised but less nerving
As I felt the pain go away
and the life in me return to normal
And I was wondering - would it happen again?
And I'm not sure - what's formal
The Forge
by Michael R. Burch
To at last be indestructible, a poem
must first glow, almost flammable, upon
a thing inert, as gray, as dull as stone,
then bend this way and that, and slowly cool
at arms-length, something irreducible
drawn out with caution, toughened in a pool
of water so contrary just a hiss
escapes it—water instantly a mist.
It writhes, a thing of senseless shapelessness ...
And then the driven hammer falls and falls.
The horses prick their ears in nearby stalls.
A soldier on his cot leans back and smiles.
A sound of ancient import, with the ring
of honest labor, sings of fashioning.
Originally published by The Chariton Review
We did not worship at the shrine of tears;
we knew not to believe, not to confess.
And so, ahemming victors, to false cheers,
we wrote off love, we gave a stern address
to things that we disapproved of, things of yore.
And the people loved what they had loved before.
We did not build stone monuments to stand
six hundred years and grow more strong and arch
like bridges from the people to the Land
beyond their reach. Instead, we played a march,
pale Neros, sparking flames from door to door.
And the people loved what they had loved before.
We could not pipe of cheer, or even woe.
We played a minor air of Ire (in E).
The sheep chose to ignore us, even though,
long destitute, we plied our songs for free.
We wrote, rewrote and warbled one same score.
And the people loved what they had loved before.
At last outlandish wailing, we confess,
ensued, because no listeners were left.
We built a shrine to tears: our goddess less
divine than man, and, like us, long bereft.
We stooped to love too late, too Learned to whore.
And the people loved what they had loved before.
imagine that your love is infinite
assume that someone else's love is too
if you can count the days you've loved someone
and they can count the days that they love you
if you add a day and then they add one too
since their love fits inside them as well as you
not only can you count the days you love
since you are them and they are you the same
then both are infinite your loves and this is true
I burn in a light of ecstasy,
scorching the neighbours right next to me.
Show me the gates of prophesy
and torch our temple of memories.
Molten dreams flow out the seams,
denying the laws of gravity
as they capture every tower seen.
I am not the 'me' you know as 'me',
and I am not, was not, never will be
the hero that I so long to be.
I'm sorry.
Formal poetry I ignore, my Lord, thus I sing to Thee the way Thou grace has taught my heart!
(c) Demetrios Trifiatis
08 July 2016
As I attempt
to grasp poetic form
I stumble while
reaching for the stars
I cannot stop the
flow of words from my pen
and do not want to
So I will continue
to write blank and free verse
Writing allows one to escape
the pangs of mortality
but only briefly
One must still
deal with the world as it is
even when one has visited
the land of Faerie
In other words,
the bombing of China
and the bombing of Hiroshima
were
done in form
The chains must be broken
so
peace
can
enter into the fray
Winds must open
up the minds of the readers
so mental flowers can grow
and guns melt like
butter in a frying pan
The taste of what
we have previously loved
ushers us into new realms
I qualify that by encouraging
your mind and spirit to
dance the dance of peace
If - and only if - they are
ready to
A cheerful "Shalom"
to all of you out there in the darkness
Haibun trying to read your mind from afar,
sitting acrostic from you at the bar.
Iamb itching to sit on the stool beside you,
but somebody's sonnet - and I don't think she'll move.
Are we just a couplet of friends having drinks?
Maybe you quintella me what you think.
I feel giddy and dizain without any warning,
and I know I'm going to feel verse in the morning.
But we've been playing footles and it feels so right,
so why not just tanka me home tonight?
They all heard him say in Calcutta,
addressing the ball, with his putter,
"Before we begin,
I'd quite like to win,
so please, pop it in," he would mutter.
~
For Craig's 'Golf Limerick' Competition.
MRS. SOCIETY WEARS IT TO ALL FORMAL EVENTS
So they trekked up the mountain covered with snow
surrounded by white with only one place to go
they were headed for a place where money could be made
but the job they do leaves so many squealing and afraid
spurs on their shoes and the dollar sign in their eyes
each step brings them closer to the clear blue skies
ice picks, shovels and the all important implement
and none of these men deserve any form of compliment
footsteps bring them nigh to their prey
because this is a job with mighty good pay
it just requires heartlessness and a dark heart
with selfishness playing it's specious part
suddenly they come into vision at rest
just living snowballs about to face their final test
mallets and hammers paint the white with red
so Mrs. Society can wear the fur of a baby seal beaten until they were dead
© 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
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