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(PoetrySoup Format)
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reflection is my sanctuary, a place to savor
time while twirling tender thoughts gently
in my mind -
embracing excitement within,
and this sweet taste of love
but at this moment,
i long to r e p l a y
a familiar tune
on a vintage turntable
________
while thinking of you
_____________
somehow it brings me closer,
so curl around me and s t a y
---*---
~ ~ because we belong ~ ~
in rhyme and in song
Videos of you replay in my head
Especially when I lie in my bed
I press rewind and I see your smile
And that soothes my mind for a while
Videos of you replay in my heart
Piecing things together that would otherwise fall apart
I press fast forward and I hear your song
Like a peaceful river, it moves my fears along
Videos of you replay in my soul
Recreating a time when my life was whole
I press pause and I inhale the very essence of you
I press start and I exhale my resistance to a me without you
Woe to pain in heart
Time ticks tremendously so
Torn apart from the start
Engrained with patterns
In my mind frame, discerning
What is evil or good…
Clear as water here
Murky rivers and lakes flow…childish fears draw near
Naught lasts forever
Life here is temporary
A lot of kindness…
In this world of woe
Portrayed on other’s paintings
History repeats.
We all have our gifts
Unique and understanding
My empathy vibes…….
Ascend, comprehend
I seek not my end, but send
Relief on my torn soul..
There's a journey that we all must take,
Where time and space are clearly fake.
When painful steps are trekked again,
While going back, as if only to begin.
The threshold crossed can't be seen by most,
As it borders imagination, from coast to coast.
This trail is carried by only memory to its map,
Since traveled rarely by others that avoid the trap.
So it becomes a solitary journey, being naked and alone,
Where you can see all the warning signs ...
and cast the first stone.
Can something else not play
Or you just stop a replay
Of the scene on display
About Sex and Foreplay
And the way The Wayward lay?
For oddly do we slay
The Good Life everyday
While at last we shall pay
On some not conceived day
Or a tearful thing have to say
About Free Immoral Leeway,
Much like Accident- Prone Highway…
And sterile ***********
A far cry from Photography.
22--
Letting the past year
Replay before my eyes
Being brought to tears--
The butterfly
She appears
He plays the ball
As he lays down
Stop!whistle says.
12-24-2020
Columbus despised local folk
Like Trump, he fibbed as he spoke
But truth be told
He wanted their gold
And you know that man ended up broke
Fast. or slow you won,t more the music is bold soul is gold it's a fact it's comming back it ture in everyway what it. Has to. Say SouL. REPLAY
Places to visit.
This body aches to fake another day
to stay one step ahead
but if there was another way
I think I'd stay in bed.
Not built to last
finished now and cast adrift
and yet my spirits lift
when I gaze upon the face before me
a face filled sensitivity
duration and nativity.
I wish I could see the whole
wish I could see the role that's played
Laid underneath the Ocean skies
I look up and realise quite suddenly
that we are the creativity.
we are the circle come complete
and in the meeting of this mind,
with a kind of glee
I understand what the me in me can do and be.
The secret lies in letting go and going on..
..not holding but in giving back.
This is the other way in which we seek
to help the helpless, feed and clothe the meek.
My body aches to fake another day..
..but another way plays out
and bed becomes anathema.
To get out there and to become
a reason for the sun to shine.
another time to stay in bed.
today I shall,
be led instead of leading
be read to instead of reading.
Another way of learning, the tutor turning,
the yearning of a child that takes the
message home into his heart.
Not Again! six inches on top of the snow we already had! This started out to be a blank verse sonnet, but it didn't turn out that way.
The snow has smothered life tonight
Our world now gleams in flawless white
Below the earth, the bulbs’ low whine
impatient with delay of time.
Their voice is faint and fainter still
the cry of birds in fluffed-up chill
so hunger thinned in winter snap
with hidden food beneath its wrap.
Yet seed thrown out on top of snow
and cooked with peanut butter, slow
then shaped in cakes with honey glue
has brought to us a checkered queue
As daylight hails, we watch to see
this comic scene of feathered spree.
Movie of you
stuck in my mind
same episode
thoughts of you
in reverse
over and over
I make
meek adjustments
random consolations
but the script
remains the same
things you said
A constant replay
a tsunami of grief
like drowning
in your own lungs
as time goes by
What to blame?
the heart lives on
things you did
forlorn memories
of missing you
things you didn't do
Maybe you
were just
a B movie
cheap sequel
pure exploitation
an in-betweener
It would have
been really nice
if you were sorry
or blew me a kiss
perhaps even
giving a real one
My mind
plays in reverse
reliving every pleasure
we shared
most precious being
replays of " I love you"....
I remember the day Trixie died,
Sinbad staring out upon her grave.
No crying, just day after day, homage.
I couldn’t stand seeing the pain,
Nothing I did, petting, holding,
Could bring him away from the grave.
So down to the pet store I drove
Hoping for a partner to please
And found a pair of cuddles, babies
Arms wrapped together in play
One black one orange which should it be?
Orange like Sinbad or black?
But how could I take one from another
Leave another hole, so black and orange
Babies two, drew Sinbad back over
To sleep the peaceful sleep of cuddles
Warmth from another, held like a mother
Or held like a father, Sinbad was mine
Once more we could live in happy cheer
Death deserted from our midst
When the wonder of youth appeared.
"Resolutions Replay"
All resolutions for twenty thirteen
Always promise to start out peachy keen
dreaming or wide awake
my pet peeve is cheesecake
A wide waistline on bikini screams "mean".
Pineapples, cheeries, strawberries or plain
Calories are the secret to weight gain
trying to deny urge
as fork and cheesecake merge
Choose will power or perhaps go insane.
Only three hundred sixty-four more days
To keep resolution intact from craves
as the replay unhinge
time for a cheesecake binge
Happy New Year rides deep hunger pang waves.
*For Gwendolen's Resolution Limerick in your Pocket.
This is what my soul sounds like-
crescendo; the silence overflowering
with waves of bliss and rose-coloured hope,
this is my happiness, love stretching out
into a multi-coloured kiss, decrescendo,
a dry bouquet of carnations displayed
at the foot of my grave,
the quiet self of alienation, where I am,
where I’ll be,
till’ you find me
stretching out my hands
to play the song again.
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