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Jules B Poem
Pink, satin pants,
worn, pulled, torn -
glowing with a personality
all of their own,
through thick and thin,
through nights lost and found,
of loves past and present -
a kaleidoscope of emotion
with no mechanics to speak,
just threads and seams -
and tangled dreams.
Copyright © Jules B | Year Posted 2006
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Jules B Poem
It’s a phone call, long distance,
your voice empty - echoes,
reminding just how far we have drifted,
How we can never again connect so easily -
without prejudice or distrust.
The phone line cackles with deception ,
With words thought but not spoken -
Caught in the void somewhere between
breath and vibration, sound and dictation,
Knowing it matters not how far one spreads their wings,
What lengths one will walk and
run, run, run,
One cannot escape what has gone before.
Perhaps it is fate that deters us from our promised path
Or a lacking of character – either way,
A bad seed cast carelessly delivers the fruit of temptation
And despite the best of intentions, leaves only sorrow in its wake.
Tempers fraught, apologies sought,
Wrongs that cannot be reversed
no matter how far across the globe traversed.
It is a phone call, long distance,
Words without diction,
Reality, not fiction
That fuels this static on the airways.
A lifetime of crossed wires.
Copyright © Jules B | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Jules B Poem
Feelings - heavy, like bricks,
like whales without buoyancy -
helpless and misguided
as when they come to land.
Beached - trapped in a world
too different from their own,
an environment so foreign that
even the simplest motion of breathing
is a physical impossibility.
But I am not that whale -
just a human adjusting and coping as best I can,
struggling to bear the weight of these feelings,
waiting for the tides to change.
I am not a whale.
Copyright © Jules B | Year Posted 2006
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