our song is me writing-
"poetry about those stolen stares
songs about that beaming smile
and even a whole film script about it"
the ink of my pen bleeds in pink
but later turns to gray
i weave our memories as part of a big story
with a climax in which you
devoured me with a kiss
but the falling action sets me adrift
to wander on the seas wide
with no cure to this disease
our song is a song in which-
"nothing happens but desertion comes in light
to pull out my nerves and haunt my midnight
i lose my sanity and cry till my eyes starts to bleed"
You leave the window slightly open for me, knowing that I love the smell of rain,
those mornings when the sun hides and the world seems washed by dreams.
You give me a half-smile when you find a strand of hair on your sweater,
and you don't brush it off, keeping it as a silent sign of my presence.
You adjust my collar before we go outside, pretending it's a casual gesture,
but your touch is so full of care that it warms my silent soul.
We argue by the shelves in the supermarket about which bread is better,
knowing we'll take both anyway, to enjoy the shared taste.
Your sleepy voice at 3 a.m. asks if I locked the door,
and then you pull me into your arms before I can answer, calming my restlessness.
Love doesn't lie in the words you say, but in the chair you pull out,
before I reach the table, like a place prepared with an open heart.
Love is when you pour my tea without asking how many spoons of sugar,
you just know, you feel, and in this silence, we find ourselves, like in a gentle spell.
In the small details, we find magic, that essence that binds souls,
and in every simple gesture, love is born, a silent story of happiness.
but there is more of us.
Pull out ever Tick
Four letters
..nickname of royal prince
….P…..E…..then something ….O
Doh the clue
America seriously I wish we could help
but we have our own Loonies to deal with
What rhymes with finesse
Every lioness
I think I would have been a great God
……well above average
I mean you say you can’t see him
2000 odd years ago all he could burn was a bush
Look at him know
And his son hasn’t left the house since
well we did put nails in him
Does a Jesus wig get made with criss cross hairs
We should start a trend
Guessing which sexual law
By which actor
While the director took a back handed
I would give dogs 10 lives
Ha cats you only have 9
One more word dog and it’s going to single
Dig gits they make me s………..
for at least a mile
What if there is nothing left to fix
My stare can look like a glare
But trust me I might be a wear/where/wer
wolf over there
Watch I ensnare
Arming every bear
Watch the flare
Bboy in the air
Only lacking
the ability
to
care.
When life leaves you lemons
deserved or not
some sunny summer's day
neither fret nor sweat
if citrus is all you've got
to show for your lot
to keep the blues at bay
be creative pull out all stops
keep calm stay cool
either squish or get off the pot
think of a drink
(old fruit)
and you're made in the shade
easy peasy lemon squeezy
simply put... make lemonade
if it were up to me
i wouldn't be here.
i would have left
a long time ago.
but others expect things of me.
things that i have to do.
and so i do them.
and i'm not dead yet.
from the minute we are born,
we are treated like clay.
carefully handled,
molded by the hands
of each person we come
in contact with.
so i'm sorry that i can't
undo the dents and imperfections
but they aren't my fault.
blame the girls who made me feel
useless.
blame the guys who made me feel
unlovable.
blame the teachers who made me feel like a
failure.
but i'm not dead yet.
i keep pushing, persevering,
praying.
praying that someone will see the
strain in my smile.
the way my leg shakes
under the desk.
the way i pick at my fingernail beds
the way i pull out my hair
the way i hold the knife to my skin.
i pray.
and i pray.
no one ever helps.
no one ever comes.
but i'm not dead yet.
and you can thank me for that.
Speaking out about what
he does not know
tho' saying it long and loud enough
will never make it so
and by the size of the sound
of the flute he toots
(or, is it his trumpet he blows?)
this Cockwomble's too big for his britches
he's way too big for his boots
as for he who shall not be named
for all the world to see
someone should pull out the rug
from under Mr. T.
take him down a peg or two
cut him down to size
as he lies then denies
it could be his downfall
it would be his demise
All the fairytale violence
Life’s too Grimm already
s
o
i
c
a
n’
t
i
n
a
l
l
g
o
o
d
C O N S C I O U S N E S S
Let Red Riding Hood bloody-hack the wolf to death…
Let the sleeping beauty jam an apple down the witch’s throat…
Let Hansel and Gretal pull out all the witch’s teeth
without putting her to sleep…
Let Cinderella make her stepmother step in shards of glass
while she whistles and laughs…
n
o
n
o
n
o
Life’s too Grimm already
I just can’t…
I like hammocks.
I like buzzing bees.
Unseasonably warm days.
Or maybe more like hours…
In April, things get taken out.
Then put away again.
My favorite shorts.
My favorite flowers.
My favorite everything.
Even when it’s supposed to be cold and stormy tomorrow…
We don’t believe it.
So we pull out clunky lawn furniture.
And mow the grass which has only grown a few millimeters.
Today is April 22nd.
Don’t leave any metal tools out.
Or they will be rained on and get rusty.
I thought the rust was over.
It’s as if March is haunting us.
In about a week, it will be May.
We should be excited.
As the grass grows and grows endlessly.
But today, it is still April.
Hopelessly April.
Ghost, River, Shiver, Gaze, Wicked, Cold
Someone stood by the river,
I was glad I wasn’t going to be the only one,
I was to come with my grandfather,
But he had been unwell.
I greeted the man,
He only nodded in response,
I gazed at him but he seemed oblivious to my scrutiny,
He was busy with his net,
A cold wave of unease washed through me.
As I pushed my boat to the river,
Suddenly the man offered me his net,
I shook my head,
His hand was still insistently stretched toward me,
I looked into his eyes and saw a glimmer of kindness,
I shivered as I took the net,
I silently prayed that the spirits of my ancestors guide me.
I thrust my boat further into the river and paddled to the centre,
I looked in the direction of the man,
He waved at me,
I cast the net into the water
And noticed a continuous ripple on the surface,
I tried to pull out the net and noticed it was heavy,
I summoned the strength of the spirits,
The catch was sudden and massive,
I glanced toward the direction where the stranger had been,
He was no longer there,
“He wasn’t a wicked ghost after all,” I thought with a smile,
April 14, 2025.
Thank you for this dance,
This chance to experience,
You from a distance.
Resistance the tool,
Used to teach a fool,
A universal school,
Guiding the pool.
Grab a stool and sit,
Get yourself ready for it,
You're about to get hit.
Get that fire lit,
It's come time to use it,
Darkness sits all around,
Burn it to the ground,
So only truth is found.
Now you're safe and sound,
Round up the courage,
To face the scourge,
Let the body purge,
Feel purity surge.
An urgent need,
To cleanse the greed,
Spread your seed,
The Title and Deed,
Has been decreed,
This is your garden indeed,
Time to pull out the weeds.
Pull out a single sheet of paper after burning a fat doobie.
These colored pencils,paints, and pens.
How you do something to me.
As my thoughts are drawn out in black and shades of grey.
The color within
reveals the cluster f**k
that is my brain.
I’ve got a little change
rattling in me pockets.
Before I go, I do bequeath
A little wisdom from my keep.
So close now, I must bestow
There’s so little left of what I know
But what I knows is worth more than gold
Some lost treasure from deep below
Hold on, let me pull out this syringe
And suck out my soul, fill the tube,
Inject the world with a little spew
Of good gaudy divine truth
This man’s one last dying wish:
Know this ... The Dreamer never dies.
Change still rattles in me pockets,
a lot less pennies, a lot less rockets.
Angels are humanoids with bird- like wings.
Travel fast changing locations with swings.
They’re perceived as other worldly soul forms.
They guide and tell humans about His norms
They're messengers between God and mankind.
They discharge His orders that are defined.
They pull out negative power and heal.
We read about them with a lot of zeal
Angels reincarnate into cute girls.
Immaculate with pure hearts as white pearls
They carry legacy to grooms' houses
Connect the families as best spouses
They're the best managers and serve both ends.
Shower love and bliss with more dividends
They build lineage and family trees
Daughters! A family's real trustees
The freak world filled with fuss, that ravage your hope at once, here only to humiliate and judge.
Wanna push in the well of extreme dark night, a well of nowhere, from which no that can pull out,
You alone have to lose or win this worldly fight.
If you're bright and fine, these freaks will be near, And at worst and dark time they will leave you in tears,
But fate that resides inside, could calm the burning fear.
what they might think,doesn't matter,
All it does is- waste time and mind scatter
So, Be yourself and set yourself free, Like the fallen leaf from a deadly tree,
You might be called dumb and fool, If you'll be different and leave this toxic pool, So, dive into the ocean of liberty -a peaceful soul.
Afternoon Soiree
a radiant sunflower adorned her reddish hair
while she was sitting in her hardback chair.
she asked me for a block of cheddar cheese
so, she could eat it with some ease.
I watched her slowly open up her satchel
and pull out a crystal wine glass so fragile.
she asked me for some vintage wine
I had plucked from my only grape vine.
she put her two bare feet on the pavement
found it too hot to her amazement.
she said this soiree I am quitting
to go inside and finish knitting.
Related Poems