Long To be honest with you Poems
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I'm so doubtful right now
So the fort has to stay up
I do see your heart though
It does radiate love
Or so it seems at times
I hear your point very well
You mean every word you say
as far as I can tell anyway
It's just that stench
that I can't abide
This reeks of deceit
I'm doubtful of your intent
It's also bitter to taste
rather hard to swallow
feels a little bit
contrived too, I'm afraid
All these red flags
glaring at me
Got alarm bells
blaring in my head
I'd be an utter tool to
ignore them
My mind wants none of it
if I were to be honest with you
And my heart sends you love
though from a safe distance
I do appreciate
the effort you made
But I doubt any good
will come out of this
Form:
I awoke this morning to the sun in my face ,
Quickly I sat up for I knew it was late .
My sleep has been so good since we came together,
The rest I get the peace I feel will be with me forever.
Can't remember when I have felt so good ,
Finding you has changed my life , I knew it would .
This is not something I would ever take for granted ,
Because I know the seeds of love have been planted .
It will grow and blossum into something so grand ,
Always glowing brightly no matter where I stand .
Not a worry or care do I feel on this day ,
Only joy and happiness will come our way.
I can say this from the bottom of my heart ,
Never will I feel alone when it's cold and dark .
To be awakened by the sun in my face ,
To be honest with you , it matters not if I am late .
TAC
Letterman
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Write Letterman
One hundred lines
In your letter
Write it better
Word's wayward may miss their mark's
And disconnect our rooftop moment's.
Pick and nick at everything you have seen.
Writing plenty can be empty.
Love lost I cannot win you back
It's a ache it's a heartache.
Drowing for the word's but
Sorrow in our fairytales.
It's a ache it's a headache.
Pale dry lines and wet crying eyes.
Just me and blunt paper.
Write harder Letterman..
Write with your heart instead
Dress it up in paper and
Pen the memory's
Without regrets.
"Hey Rea
I fear future dreams about you
I have to be honest with you..
When we were ecstatic
In those lovely sunset day's.
Sitting atop the billboard
Looking down
At the growing neon city
Sipping coffee .. time buzzing by
The small people.
Running up and down
In locked street's.
Not knowing where
They going to ..
Not knowing where ..
They coming from.
All in quick paced hurry's.
The people and their pain's
My advantage of being with you"
Then thud ! suddenly..
Gracefully you left me behind
I can't write anymore ..
It was us..
Marry me a 100 times ?
I write on the billboard..
But.. sadly
Our line's abort.
Your life cut short
Hundred lines will not..
Bring you back.
I said to my son,
He said back to me,
To be honest with us,
I'm worried
We want to be happy
while bypassing disciplines of left-brain healthy
is not too right-brain cooperatively sappy.
But, after my ancient lifetime of trying
directly for prosperous happy
that may or may not lead to left-brain healthy,
that may or may not lead to right-brain wealthy,
I hope you can benefit
from what we redundantly say,
more than what I've actually done
in front of you
and behind your back,
confronted you,
denied,
and what I've failed to take left-with-right back.
We want to be happy
and to win wealthy left-brain ego-fame
however flashingly synaptic
even at the price of ignoring natural/spiritual resilient healthy
is not all that win/win polyanna maniacally sappy
nor lose/lose despairingly immoral crappy
So I have done
and we long to be done
with such lose-happy and lose-wealthy self-prophetic life confusion
profusion
contusion,
Of unhappy cognitive left
and disaffected unwealthy right
dissonance
provokes short-term wounded choices for mere satiation
because long-term resiliently healthy happiness
feels too right-brain prominent sappiness
suffering left-brain crappiness
Both un-together remaining mutually blind
to integrity of global win/win GoldenRule manners,
uncrappy and unsappy,
too remotely not experienced on our shared big mainframe
but maybe flimmery-glimmers of light emerge
in more everyday lighter healthy,
wealthy,
and wise here/now
space/timeless moments.
To be honest with you,
I'm worried
we want to know abundant happiness
without accepting and committing to our win/win integrity
as ego/eco-systemic
left/right cooperatively integral
Red/BlueGreen
yang-fire/yin-water
holistic nonsectarian
non-partisan
non-violently communicating health vulcanizers,
optimizers,
re-creators,
transubstantiators,
creolizers,
With happy inter-hemispheric ego/eco-logicality
speaking dipolar bi-loyally
in cooperatively resilient
health/wealth solidarity
Which I think everyone would regeneratively agree
is not too sappy
nor too degeneratively crappy
to remain responsibly happy
despite all our co-arising snappy facts
without contextual slappy feelings.
I write for the love of poetry,
since a child I have had a need to articulate,
to write conversations to an invisible audience.
I can get quite wordy and chatty and rambling,
and have no problem sharing private thoughts.
I write for the love of poetry,
sometimes my writing is flowery and picturesque,
I can turn out a whimsical and joyful poem.
At times my style is clear and confident,
informative, or just plain silly and foolish fun.
I write for the love of poetry,
but to be honest with you dear reader, my strength,
is in mournful, lamenting and woeful sad writes.
Writing of my grief and heartbreak is healing,
I hope it helps others to see they are not alone.
I write for the love of poetry,
oh, I can turn out a sultry passionate poem,
full of lust and love, or just of gentle feelings.
And I like to pen of the past and my family,
I think that is because my happiness dwells there.
I write for the love of poetry,
there is no telling what I will write each day,
it just happens, my pen has the power.
My words just drip onto paper, words I must share,
but I take pause, to read and ponder other poets words.
______________________________
April 6, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/I Write For The Love Of Poetry
Copyright Protected, ID 16-775-229-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym
For the contest, For the Love of Poetry,
sponsor, John Lawless
Seventh Place
Perfect falls
Oh When perfect mirrors fall it breaks
And become broken glass
I hurt myself with pieces of myself
But I guess the pain appeals
Because I stand and watch how much I can bleed
It's my masochistic side that allows me to breathe
At least I can feel
At least I still feel
I open my hand
But anything not meant to be
Runs passed my fingers like quick sand
Reason for many disappointment I have had
I am used to hour-glass moments that never last
But I always end up crying for fleeting moments of happiness
That though gone I still miss
And I promise you the loneliest place is inside my head
All the memories are framed like pictures on the walls
Do you want to take a look with me?
I reminisce, no wonder I can't forget
Being with myself can be good and bad
But it's the only home I know
These broken pieces of myself
They are not perfect
But it's the mirror I look through
My reflection, I want to be honest with you
I'm tired trying to fix the pieces of myself
Trying to make it fit perfectly
Lately apart they make more sense
I want to be peacefully incomplete
Because these pieces of myself
They still make the whole of me
Form:
Since a child I have had a need to share, to
write conversations to an invisible audience; and
I can get quite wordy and chatty and rambling, I
have no problem sharing private thoughts. At times
my writing is flowery, pretty and picturesque, Oh
I can turn out a whimsical and joyful poem; and
sometimes my style is clear and ever so confident,
even informative, or just plain silly and foolish fun.
But, to be honest with you dear reader my strength,
is in mournful, lamenting and woeful sad writes;
writing of my fears, grief and heartbreak is healing,
it helps me, I hope others see they are not alone.
Oh, I can also turn out a sultry passionate poem,
full of lust and love, or just of gentle sweet feelings;
and I like to write of the past and my family lost, no
telling what I will write- my pen has all the power.
_________________________
April 6, 2016
Poetry/Verse/A Need To Share
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1111-552-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Early Feb 2019 Standard Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place