Long Punctuation mark Poems

time fails to stop
off the planet i may
drop.

 ... from here 7~12~17 ...
...down added for poetrycontest...

tihs writer hasnt a clue about all the names or forms
of poetry...
we do no write poems ... we can write...

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Thoughts of a “Mid-Dot : (•)”

A couple of centuries back, I was recognized,
marked as mid-dot ; all were mesmerized.
I was most required for all. I was utilized
in literature extensively. But they improvised;

Resulting efforts made me...

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To heal hearts, there are three ways. When waiting to be free so many days. Number one, tears, number two, laughter, number three pouring out fears, to someone who gets it. They just have to...

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I used to think poems lived in leather-bound books,
guarded by professors with stern looks,
that words worth speaking needed permission,
academic citations, scholarly submission.

I sat in corners swallowing syllables,
choking on metaphors I couldn't pronounce,
wondering why my tongue...

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As I sit here and view the coming of the edge of night
Colors explode across the sky and fill me with delight
All of the problems I had vanish and are nowhere in sight
Which seems like...

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Behind a frozen glass window I peer,
but not for long despite the pending thunder,
to spur an inner gnawing  gumption,
I turn a chilly doorknob,
with great stealth born of winters  past,
sleet-ridden gusts, swaying tree leafs,
slippy...

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Never stop seeking me, I'll be here for you to find
Do not close your eyes, your heart,nor your inquisitive mind, 
Not one of you can say with truth, “I know all there is to know”
For...

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I tried to write down my pain with a broken pencil before the caught
and i discover there was no need for its pointless.

The clock was ticking a distraction
so i tried to eat it, boy it...

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i searched everywhere in the room the desktop inside of all desk drawers opened the leaves of books and examined every page and even shook them down to see if a dot falls off but...

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His unshaven jowls quiver, and his lip trembles,
In his eyes, his rheumy eyes, simmers horror,
Revulsion at the memory, this old man, what he
Knows he has done and can never forget.

“Do it now!” the death’s head...

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This morning I wrote a poem
about a yellow heart 
pining for red fusion,
in a desperate attempt
to shake the fruit
that never 

falls

And tonight I am alone
without tangerine lips
or the temptation of apple,
carefully watching familiar verses 
unravel...

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Yes, I know I must go to confession.
But, oh my, it has been over a year!
So, what if I freeze during the session?
I’m worried Father Joe might laugh and sneer.
Could I not say I had...

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The houses are all changed, 
life is like a punctuation mark. 
Why do you worry Mita ! 
Turning the dusty leaves upside down, 
whom do you search so much ? 
Parents, property ... 
the way,...

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