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 Mar 2017 Pamela Sinicrope
Tupelo
I stole like a thief
Came in under the cover of night
Took what I wanted
Fled out the window
Ran home under the moon
Your heart in my hands
Staining my palms
Still alive and beating
I know that it is wrong to
take what is not your own
But their was so much love inside your chest
I couldn't help but wonder what it
would be to feel that same thing inside my own
So strange
 Mar 2017 Pamela Sinicrope
L B
I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week
Thank you everyone for the views and comments.  The Daily was a nice surprise this evening.


There were five of us kids.  I was the only one who ever did anything like this.  It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.

My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied,  "Getting some air."

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/
With his eloquent tongue,
Quick wit,
And grinning eyes.
He made us love him.
He made us feel loved.
If only for a moment.
Then it got ugly.
Suddenly there were questions.
Fighting amongst ourselves.
Betraying one another.
Never trusting.
No one.
Not even ourselves.
He made us weak.
Afraid.
Spiteful.
He turned us into something we're not.
He played us all.
He crushed us.
Or tried to.
Without a thought.
Without a care.
With his crippled black soul,
Deadened eyes,
And withered self.
Hidden behind a handsome mask,
A gentle hand,
His lies.
His fear drove him.
His fear of being realized.
His fear of being alone,
And others seeing him,
As he really is.
For he is dark,
He is apathetic,
He doesn't feel what others feel.
He cannot feel remorse,
Except for in fear of himself.
For he only cares for himself.  
He claims he doesn't care.
He claims to be free.
Free of restraints.
Free of emotion.
Free of love.
But for what he claims is free,
Is imprisoned in fear.
For he is a coward.
Terribly frightened.
Afraid of others.
What they might say.
What they might think.
But mainly he is afraid of himself.
For he knows his noxious soul,
Will one day find him.
Abandoned.
Exposed.
The day he knows he is unloved.
The day he knows he is alone.
Alone with no one but himself.
The one he fears the most.
He will weep.
For nothing is stronger.
Nor more horrifying.
Than facing one's greatest fear.
To open one's eyes.
To face all alone.
The one you despise the most.
To see in the mirror,
The demon you've become,
As no fear is stronger,
Than that of oneself.
As I walk along the beach rubbing my belly
Remembering that it felt like jelly

Anticipating how handsome you are going to be
I prayed for you to be healthy and strong like me

Everyday I would talk and sing to you
Knowing that you was listening and singing with me too

Feeling every kick and tumble
Brought joy to my heart which made my heartbeat rumble

I always protected you with all my might
Even when I was in danger and about to fight

I knew you was going to be so cute
I couldn't hardly wait for that birthday suit

The day finally came December 7th 1994
Out you came almost in the store

You was a fighter a perfect little boy as perfect as a sparkling diamond
Your eyes was brighter then the sunshine that shined around the island

I was the happiest mommy there ever was I was so blessed
As you grew and got older I was always amazed by your finesse

You have grown into the perfect son,and an amazing man
I never could have asked for anything better as if it was all planned

Happy Birthday my son
You shine so bright like the sun

I love you with all my heart
My love is off the chart
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Wrote this for my son on his birthday, he cried he loved which made my heart melt :)
Lying on the beach,
it's getting darker each time you blink.
Hear the colorful explosions up high,
the sky is in chaos, don't you think?

Forget what I told you,
leave those words to the tide.
The stars are peaking through,
my ignorance is wild and wide.

A handful of white rocks,
you smile like a maniac.
Breathing out hoaxes,
while I play piano on your back.

The fireworks stopped,
you gave me black rocks.
My blanket was made for two,
yet another startling paradox.
This is absolutely crazy. I can't believe my poem was chosen as a daily. Especially not when I know there are so many other, way more talented, poets on this site who deserve it way more than I do. But I thank you all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading, liking and the nice comments you leave. It means the absolute world to me! :) <3
 Mar 2017 Pamela Sinicrope
Eric W
Tired mind, tired body.
Chaotic desk, chaotic kitchen.
As sleep escapes the eyes,
but not the mind,
dripping ink half conscious,
stalling.
Staying away from the dreams
which bring tomorrow's
cold reality.
Sickness pushing into the mind,
into the body,
with a dusty desk and
haphazard room in the dark.
We go up, we go down,
never to settle
as does the dust
upon our bones.
Misplaced my peace
(of mind)
at my alter of confidence,
and, once again,
exposed my insecurities.
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