When you turn away from me,
It feels unbearably lonely.
When you’re upset with me,
Your promise to never speak again—
It drowns my heart in silent waves of sorrow.
When you turn away from me,
I pick a single flower to win your favor,
Yet you gently toss it aside before accepting me again.
I wish I could be a flower,
To blossom along your life’s journey
And bring you joy and purpose.
When you turn away from me,
It feels unbearably lonely.
Our bond seems more fragile than a thread,
Yet still I wipe my tears
And strive to speak to you.
Your half-smile—the one you never complete—
Kills the breath in my chest.
When you turn away from me,
It feels unbearably lonely.
I vow to hold you in my arms forever,
To never let you be upset with me again.
Your hair—like dark clouds—frames your beauty,
And in you, I see the moon,
Making me forget the sky above.
Her marital ring gleamed on her left hand,
Yet lust was what she had carefully planned.
Her beauty, stunning, left me wanting more,
But lechery weighed heavy at my core.
I spoke, though words fell silent in my mind,
But what she heard left her in tears confined.
Her tears, a blush of crimson faintly dyed,
I never knew why she had cried, and cried.
Days dragged, her elegance tormented with glee,
I spoke little so lust begged to flee.
Till one night, a moment I won't forget,
When fate rewarded me with her hot sweat.
Where was this beauty before she was chained?
She seemed truly mine, yet my heart is drained.
Lust suddenly drove love far from my sight,
Though sweet, it was definitely not right.
The door of secrecy soon left unlocked,
The hush-hush brought by lust no longer knocked.
A wild wind blew it to the ears of shame.
Lechery scorched us in a low blue flame.
Stunning beauty! Her face truly was.
She was shaped more like a lovely vase.
Her steps left footprints of lust.
My marital vows, in dust.
Drunkenness painted her with no flaw.
Liquor whispered love to her hearing,
But when she turned, beer stopped its cheering.
Booze brewed my sins with bare hands!
My shame buried in the sands.
Then, devil took over the steering.
If green, go share-- the room and bed,
Yellow, pillow separated,
If signal shows orange,
The bed is what you change,
Red, change the very room
To save your soul from doom,
As signals you must learn to dread.
Once counselled a marriage expert
Advising me to be alert.
But I do rather feel,
That a man should just deal
With red that might him the most hurt.
___________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |26.08.2024| Limerick, wife, marriage, mood
I had a great time.
I thought as I tiptoed across the floor, afraid to crack the eggshells.
Feeling the warmth of the morning sun hitting my face through the curtain.
Hearing the soft sighs of sleep coming from our marital bed.
I had a great time.
Denial comforts me.
I had a great time I smiled.
As I wash the blood from between my legs and throw my ripped underwear into the trash.
I wonder what I have to make for our breakfast.
What fun we had last night
I had a great time I think as the bacon pops and tears stain my cheeks.
He wakes.
Wrapping arms around my waist and kissing me on my head.
I am a good house wife
I think as I put his breakfast on a plate and sprinkle just the tiniest bit of antifreeze into his hot coffee
Won’t be long now.
Gosh what fun we had.
Rick knew sluttish blood flowed in mother’s vein.
She told sex before marriage was a bane,
had him, though maiden was she.
He was later glad to see
his father marry mother, made her sane.
Forgive me if I have wronged you
The task before me
Is beyond marital blues
You claimed I come home late
You claimed I drink spirits a lot
You claimed I snored every night
You claimed I took you for granted
You claimed I forgot our wedding date
You claimed I was too Puritan …
Incapable of love
And being loved
Please and please my angry woman
Let’s push your trainload of anger aside
While I invite the holy Muse of poetry
To refresh my soul
With lines I will submit
In our poetry soup anthology
(1)
Two lumps of sugar kissed.
Locked horns of marriage hissed.
Churns lake of better-worse.
Ring wins for friendship missed.
(2)
Ruddy red the roses. Darling,
Please let’s cease our trifling quarreling.
Rows and rows, of apologies,
Bride and groom are gentle guarding.
In marriage, there's fear
People always have regrets
Think mud in water.
I must be nutty as a fruitcake
for attending my sister's
'pre-marital wake'
Sis likened marriage to 'slow death'
She didn't want to run out of breath
So I served her Arsenic 'n Rum in her steak
After years of research they now find
The cause of squabbles conjugal kind:
Culprit, the priest they hire—
He that feeds fuel to fire
Solemnizing marriage,
Villain of old vintage….
Today’s research: blind led by blind!
________________________________
Limerick |05 .08.2023| humour, marriage
I
A happily married man is he
Who weds, not for love, but for policy.
His life will be clover
If his wife will sign over
Not the deed to her heart, but her property.
II
A woman who weds for the pleasure,
May live to repent at her leisure.
When she's no more excuses
For her husband's abuses,
A close bond with her lawyer she'll treasure.
I
When a spat leaves you blue-faced and chokin'
This advice may keep love's bond unbroken:
Don't go angry to bed,
Listen to what's being said
And not merely to what's being spoken.
II
A man marries then struggles the rest of his life
Trying to keep his home free from all worry and strife.
It won't enter his head
'til long after he's dead,
That he might should have wed a less extravagant wife.
III
A new wife was installed as the queen of her house,
And for a while quite content with no reason to grouse.
T'was a cruel trick of fate
When she found out, too late,
That her mate was a souse and a louse of a spouse.
IV
A husband, fed up with his wife's constant yammer,
Went ballistic and bashed out her brains with a hammer.
At his trial her removal
Won the jury's approval,
And his (suspended) sentence, six months in the slammer.
Monica is her name
She was mould in modesty
Meek to her motherland..
More matured than nature
Monica motile with sensation..
Mood to the moon
With money inherited
Majestic and colorful
Mystical in her morality
Merrymake and smart
Model status
Melodious voice
Mild-mannered..
Committal...
Murderous monday morning
Monica mood turn muddy
Messy and mournful
Motherhood engulfed
For she was molested,
rape, deflowered, cheated
and battered..
Lost!
Wicked world
Life's unfair
Hatred to humanity
Marital gift snatched
Pregnant to unknown
Monica mourn..
The biggest mockery of what couples have one other told,
Impressing a play acting, very bold
To conceal some sure, future bickering
From a supportive solemn gathering.
Spouses once dying to see each other’s nudity
Now abhor each other’s faces,
The other one an outright oddity
That looks a bit tolerable behind laces…
A time Satan proves himself more profound
Than his shallow critics could ever imagine,
Himself taking as duty-bound
To install between partners the widest margin.
It’s an interrupted journey on the marital highway,
A keeping of a connubial affair at bay:
A once blossoming cooperation
Giving way to life-long separation.
Divorce, the fullest licence gives to either party
To openly crush one’s lips against a new Sweetie’s,
Even with one’s Ex embarrassingly nearby;
An asking of “Hot Tears” to stand by.
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