Jan 18, 2017
David Lewis Paget

We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’

I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’

Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.

I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.

I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?

The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.

Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.

The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.

David Lewis Paget

  Jan 17, 2017
W L Winter
W L Winter
7 days ago

Many think there are four,
but there are only two
seasons in life, one spent
indoors, and one without

There is a sacred path found
in the scar left by the wash
of phosphorescent waves
or in echoes of lost music

My birthmark is an empty lot,
the columns of the bungalow
augured into the hill where
lean shadows now fall unseen

From the branches of the
ancient pear I gazed into the
blue of homespun prophecy, but
what was shown is now gone

Early on my position was
revealed on the old slab amidst
new grass, I discerned it when
hobos hung like grapes on boxcars

Then, at the mountain gate, I
stood and watched the fawns
and feins scurry down an open
portico of rounded stones

These events are pearls on
a thread of forgotten hours,
as the man with fifty shackles
barks at the moon in his own
private solitary confinement

The power of mist that arises
from bolder lichen can only
be measured at the end of
a spinning spiral of years

Don't let them blind you with sayings,
the sky is the true window of the soul,
when thunder thumps your hollow bones,
kneel and kiss the river beneath your feet

  Jan 16, 2017
Earl Jane



I'll plant a kiss in your lips,
So that a smile will grow in it,
Then its roots will reach into your heart and soul,
And that love will be its fruit.


© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.

For Brandon ❤❤



OMG. Lol. I didn't realize this became the daily poem ON MY BIRTHDAY. Hahaha.. Lots stuff are happening today and I am really happy. Thank you everyone
#love   #kiss   #heart   #smile   #soul   #grow   #plant   #fruit   #roots  
  Jan 15, 2017
Karina Norris-Veirs

Can you not
Spare a soft word
You look at her
With devouring eyes
Grasp her in your arms
Pull her close
Anger when another dares touch
But yet
You do not speak
Not what she needs to hear
Tell her she is beautiful
When you hold her near
Speak not only with actions at hand
You are woman, I am man
When you stake your claim
For the world to see
Lean towards her ear
Whisper you are mine my dear
Be not only a lover of the flesh
Speak that she is tantalizing
When both you mesh
It should not be hard
To utter the sound
From your gullet
Out of your mouth
Those lips produce
Ectasy abound
Create more
With words from whence for

  Jan 14, 2017
Mygreatestescape

Did the sea
seem inviting
that day?
The way
it must have
taken your breath
away
for you to
say,

"Ah, here
I'll stay,"

Did you love the
sea more
than air
that day?

As the skies
rumbled,
downpouring
their gentle
guilt
in your tangled
mess of hair,

The way
it trickled down
your smiling face
- into your mouth,
I can almost imagine,

Did the sea
not scream
murder
as you divulged
beneath
its rough
edged
waves,

Did you not
claw
towards the
heavens,
Did you not
scream
Until
you were
strangled
alive?

Did you love
the sea so dearly,
to let it's
cold
arms
drag you
to even colder
places.

For a friend and another suicide attempt.
#poem   #poetry  
  Jan 13, 2017
Savannah Charlish

Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey

  Jan 12, 2017
David Hewitt

If I use my pen to paint a poem
Can I wet it in a crystal brook
Adding clarity to my thoughts

Or dip into the inkwell of bloom
Bringing colour to my words

Or measure it against the moon
To capture light and shade

Can I plunge it up into the clouds
To borrow menace and stillness

Can I scratch my skin to paint
My feelings in blood

If I use my pen to paint poetry
Would you hang me from your wall?

 
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