Why are we fighting
Why can't we sit down like before
And take turns to hear each other
Or we're so out of love that we can't hear anymore
Why are we fighting
Why does it feel like you've got something to say
Have you been suffering all alone
And now you plan to actually be alone
Cause if you'd only lay it on me
And looked me in the eye
You know I'm hurting too
And the silence is hurting me too
You might think I'm fine
But I'm just being a man
I can't let you see the little boy in me
Whose afraid to lose you
How about you wait for a second
Instead of rushing out at the first chance
Or are you afraid of what they'll say
Cause I've been in a room just me and you and we had a nice night
I'll start by saying how sorry I am
Cause you a flower, delicate
And I should have understood you more
But know my feelings haven't changed
I'd hope to hear you tell me
That you are not drifting
You're just floating in your thoughts
And that you wanna hold it down with me
The PO£T
my best friend knows my stories, has my back, laughs with me
He and I share two dogs, they are our babies, Maxie and Maddy
We are silly enough to call ourselves their mommy and daddy
Been together for fifty-seven years, my best friend and me
My best friend misses me when I am gone, which is a rarity.
We are evenly matched in wit and wisdom, in complete parity.
My friend and I both have hazel eyes and dark hair, but I dye mine.
We take turns napping now, because babies want one up all the time.
There are so many reasons that I love my best friend, impossible to choose.
He knows me better than anyone else; can find anything I misplace or lose.
Knows what foods to buy, so he does the grocery shopping.
He also does the laundry, this man is a dynamo who is forever hopping.
We can finish each other’s sentences,
so claim we are redundant all the time.
I guess the best thing about my best friend
is that since 1968 he has been mine.
Pots & Pans
We see on the net a dust bowl of horror called Gaza
people with remarkable pots and pans begging for
food around an open kitchen; the thought is, do they
keep the poets and pans so clean, do they take turns
licking clean any vestige of nourishment of the said
utensils, which tells me there is a Palestine under
the ruins and there will always be a Palestine, if not
Today, but tomorrow it will be the day the flag will
hang from every ruin, free of Israel's hatred, and
endemic caused by the malicious influence of the USA
From the time America was influenced by the people
of the Old Testament
Masters of War, Artist: Bob Dylan,
Album: The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan,1963
-----------------------------------------------
rifles, shotguns, LMGs
drones, satellites, AIs
bombs, missiles, pathogens
you have improved
you have improvised
you target fire and forget
this is not planet
for the living or for life
it is for the wicked
freaks take turns
for digging mass graves
soak earth with pure blood
stop mayhem, pay heed
there is no second chance
for earth or for you or for us
there is no second chance
once dead and for unborn
stop killing, leave and let live
How do I know what true love is?
Is it the effervescent warm glow?
Is it the loyalty and respect of masters pup?
Is it the fire of passion that waves uncontrollably?
Is my love truly in love with me?
How do two people to love each other equally?
Do they take turns like musical chairs?
Do they have to complete each others thoughts?
Do I need to always communicate the good and bad?
Do I need the love my woman as much as she loves me?
How does true love evolve over time?
Can it remain a flame despite being on cruise control?
Can it get stronger through pain?
Can I lose it and regain it like losing my phone?
Can I trust the one I have store my love to keep?
"Tell me, Purple, do you envy your sisters?
Do they envy you in the shy morning mist? "
“Pink-Dawn and Day-Blue, both cheerful and pretty,
paint the wide sky in sunlit visions.
I bruise the clouds and make them weep
with rain - to turn the grasses green.
I envy them not, nor they me.
We each take turns to paint the scene.
And sometimes, at the edge of days,
see us together: Purple, Pink and Blue and Gray!”
The dark sky stretches across the heights.
Overcast clouds roam, late at night.
The round moon does not reveal its rays.
The snow on the peaks may melt away.
In the morning, the sparrows fly joyfully,
Plucking flowers and perching in the trees.
A pair of wild doves appears sad and silent,
While blackbirds search for worms with talent.
Spring flowers bloom along the front fence,
Like a group of teenagers practicing a dance,
Watching the rain play in the new season.
The small leaves will take turns next month.
The spring blends both sad and happy
It is a rule that governs human society
There is a desire for couples to despise
Thus, we all change from time to time
Step forth
Time to speak
Take a part
Take part
Practice
Take the microphone
Step forth
Enter your arena
What you’ve been waiting for
You have the floor
and choices
Speak up?
Speak clear?
Let your face fill with cheer
In that moment
of change
your brain’s rearrange
you will like it
I promise
and will relish
the next time
you step up
Don’t become cocky
but be brave
and confident
cocksure but balanced
Bold
then settle back
and let the next voice
take over
Don’t be jealous
if they do it better
What is better?
We take turns
remember -
you learned that
in Kindergarten
We all have a part
to practice
in this life
Let us be a member
of mankind
and kind for that matter
As teacher gets into her class
Pupils make incessant noise
She asks all to keep quiet and listen
But they talk louder, fidgeting extends
Does this chaos cry for more patience?
She begs them to continue talking
To move around, no more learning
Tell their parents what they do in a day
Just idle, break school rules and play
With mouth shut, silences display.
Comes a father with her cute daughter
Her unceasing melt-down is horrible
Sparks in him his last sort of control
By crying out loud rolling down the floor
She halts to think, “Is dad a complete fool?
He says, let’s cry loudly and take turns
Cries of two bring thunder for lightning burns
Her daughter stops then sobs
Father hugs her daughter with love
Then ride back home in their pedicab.
Words like butterflies take wings,
As we open our mouths to sing.
Voices soft or loud and clear,
Sharing thoughts for all to hear.
Choose your words with gentle care,
Like picking flowers sweet and fair.
Speak with kindness, truth, and grace,
Light-up smiles on every face.
Take a breath before you start,
Let the words flow from your heart.
Enunciate each syllable,
Make your meaning knowable.
Listen first, then have your say,
Take turns in a friendly way.
Pitch your voice to soothe the ear,
Neither shouty nor unclear.
Paint pictures with your phrases bright,
Bringing stories to light.
Ask questions, seek to understand,
Building bridges across the land.
Speaking is a wondrous art,
Connecting mind to mind and heart to heart.
So raise your voice and play your part,
Let your words make a brand new start.
Our pets got old.
We all acted surprised.
When we had puppies and kittens…
They were playful and unstoppable.
So were we.
As they settled down-
We graduated high school.
As they got weak and scraggly-
We graduated collage.
Now we take turns sending our condolences.
Our friendships changed.
Our pets loved us all the way home.
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love.
Sophocles, Greek Poet
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tanked temps pools inky smears ere striking lights,
nightstand shelved as bed post warming invites,
facade postpones ceiling beams gold strike streaks,
soleless soul flits swarming countenance cheeks,
dance preps off-Broadway show and a bit more,
mirror laughs hushed, smiles aloud, assured score.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hogwarts seedbed on windows, one attends,
self-mocked reflect face, sees the village ends,
pressed off, Hogwarts seedbed--windows, returns,
swings, tick, chime, digital, sands, time-take-turns,
midday passes, pinks-whites-brown creamy melts,
boredom still on, chips and pops up, rain pelts.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ain't an, Acro..., Aero..., Aquaphobic,
Where is love? Heal this ... Agoraphobic.
VERDICT
Is it from a past memory that one learns
The thing that someone once did, or said to you
It is as if one’s heart and brain each take turns
To reconcile recollections that accrue
After all this time, that angry flame still burns
And I still wonder what really can be true
That word that affects me to this very day
Guilty is a verdict that I took away
We take turns glancing at the clock.
We always think glancing will be like putting our feet on grass that has had proper rain and sun.
But it’s never like that.
We take turns.
In this line, that is just me and everyone who is not me.
Some of us are chatting, as if we are in line for coffee.
We’re all pretending it’s a dream and this is a stop on our commute to work.
But no, everyone who is in here is in here.
We are here all the time, until we aren’t.
Morning…afternoon…night…
Night is…
When some of us are tired in a sleeping way, and others are tired in a gray and drizzling way.
We wait, and, wait, and wait.
After this, we can do what we want.
Either sleep,
Or stay awake.
They really don’t care.
Lines start to intersect.
In just the right way…
Because my scribbles are now words!
Because I’m writing somehow!
This is real! I promise that they are real words!
That’s the process, it’s a process.
Scribbles become more and more real,
The paper just sort of…
Absorbs my power.
The paper and I take turns creating.
When the paper sleeps, I take over.
And over and over…
And that’s how I’m a famous writer.
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