Laminated between two glass panes I’m under their magnifying powerful microscopes
Don’t look at me, look to the skies; you will see the beauty in the eye piece of your telescope’s
Walking with not set a direction a ridiculed nomad man is on the ramped path
Follow and believe me or then beware of the ink on the Richter scale’s graph
I can hear electricity’s electric hum buzzing in my ears and yes, all day long
People come and people go taking a piece off me I again make them strong
Coming to me with nothing just trying to be near I can see in all their eyes all their fear
Closing my eyes I ask to cast their pain unto me rid them of their troubles I’m timid as a deer
I’m here for just a very short time telling you all I’m lucky I lived as long as I now did
Remembering all the wrong, painful, sinful, crazy insane things that I did but I was only a kid
I know that what I now type on this piece of machine is being watched from the camera’s eye
Trying to study me for where I have come from and what I write is nothing close to a lie
I been blessed with a sacred power I hear the birds chirping and I do take time to smell a flower
Wondering each and every day when is my time to come, I beg and plead please let this be my hour.
but set in stone
yet all alone
a shining star
but small and thin
cuts and scars
cover her skin
the magic thoughts
she once did think
now a filthy corpse
to the ground she'll sink
Fourteen months I practiced
Climbing rocks and hillocks too
I was off to see the Seer
On a mountain in Peru
I packed my gear
My ropes and boots
and I set off on my trip
I had brought along
ten pairs of gloves
So I would not lose my grip
The group we had assembled
Had questions for this man
Questions church folk could not answer
And we all hoped he can
Tales of his great insight
Spread from sea to sea
And we were off on an adventure
And he would talk to me
Each seer lived inside a cave
With a pillow and a goat
With the goat hair stuffed his pillow
And the extra for a coat
He never left his mountain
Never came to town for food
He was always free with answers
No matter what his mood
The seer had been a fixture
On the mountain top for years
Over five hundred winters passing
Had meant there'd been eight seers
We climbed upon arrival
It took two days just to reach
The base camp, our new homeland
We would learn and he would teach
The weather cleared on Tuesday
And we ventured out in force
We were bogged down hard on Friday
And we had to leave our horse
Each day the trek was tougher
But, our goal was still in sight
We figured if the weather cleared
We'd be there in one more night
The next day we had made it
We were where the seer had sat
There was a goat, and a small letter
Saying "There's now an app for that"
"Thank you for your interest"
"But, I've set up a new site"
"Safe journey home, and have a good good night".
Where I reside now…is not my home. Well, technically it is. I have lived there for more than almost two and a half years, but it still isn’t home.
Home is where the smell of apple-cinnamon fills the house during Christmas; when tons of tasty food covers the kitchen tables, and family members dig into the dishes.
Home is where I spent my childhood; where the room I slept in’s walls were a mix between the palest pink, white, and grey; the walls covered with my name and stickers, and the Elmo sandbox I played in when I was five.
I used to ride my bicycle down the street and back, and spend time at the neighbor’s house. I remember reading a favorite book of mine, while walking my dog down our long street.
Home, where I would walk outside with bare feet, cringing with every step because there were rocks covering the ground. The bonfire would be set ablaze and I’d get close enough only to back away again because it was too hot.
Now home is a foreign place to me. I no longer smell the sweet fragrance of apple-cinnamon during Christmas. The food seems to be less as is the family.
Where my room is now one color, white, and contains two boys beds; the stickers gone and the walls now freshly scribbled on. The Elmo sandbox is gone and probably sand less.
My bike is old and rusty with a baby seat attached. The neighbors aren’t as friendly. My book isn’t as fascinating and no longer is a favorite. My dog is getting old and no longer wishes to walk.
I wear shoes outside, and the ground is covered with dirt. It’s too much of a hassle to go outside, only to smell like smoke when you returned. The seats that surrounded the fire are empty.
My home is now filled with everything I used to know. My world is different than when I was a child. I’ve grown, and can see that there is no evidence that I even existed there.
They’ve replaced me. Two little boys, my nephews, are now my Daddy’s favorite babies.
I am at the end of the boot, and have been replaced.
Home is where the heart is, but what happens when that heart is broken?
They say I’m a hopeless romantic and I tend
To think it’s true, but in this world
What else can I do.
So much bitterness, so much despair
And no one with which to share.
But who wants to share all the negativity
There’s enough around without it affecting you and me.
She had captured my heart before I had time to think
She flashed me her smile, and gave me a wink.
Her laughter like a child on their first birthday
Looking at the presents, and not knowing what to say.
A beauty so rare, and so refined, like a vision in my mind.
She opened up the flood gates which I never knew I had.
And after seeing her, I am more than glad.
all the dreams, the wants, the desires
Turned me around and set me on fire.
She is the hunter, and I was the prey
And my poor humble heart she did slay.
Unlike most hunters she picked up my
Heart, ever so gently and with care
For she knew we would be the perfect pair.
She took my heart and placed it in her chest
For she knew that this was best.
Our two hearts joined together and has
Now become one, and here I will stay
Until I’m done.
when the storm had left
I pressed her close to me
held her tenderly
love in her ear.
She is the ink that could think up the words in my quill
her will is my will
she is the filler of reservoirs
my ship to the stars.
my escape from those nights when sat alone in some bar having drunk just enough to anaesthetise would set my eyes on some lass
make a pass
then pass out to wake in the boat house or outhouse sometimes even worse places
pulling faces at foolishness
going home to undress and to wash off the shame.
Until she came I was drowning in dried seas
and nothing could please me
she changed that
cleaned my flat
washed me and carefree
I wait patiently when she's gone
for her return
where I can burn
in her fire.
Focus me on presents
Yet you set me down in pasts
My frame click, click, clicks
On all the things to last
My flowers never die
My faces never age
Another chapter another story another life for you and me lets give each other a promise lets hold our hands together you showed me your world and i showed you mine, i think its time, its time to take the step to move forward , a brighter side is waiting and this was the last thing of what you said you left my heart held with fire you left my mind lashing in memories you gave me hope ,you gave me something beyond wt i asked for and now yu left me in this world .I stood beside your grave planted flowers went back through our memories and set my heart on fire and frm this moment till the end i promise you that you and only you are the one that my heart was opened too and closed after you❤
In fair Verona where Will set the scene
Belle Fortune moves the markers up and down.
Two households both alike in dignity
Fiercely compete for fear of losing ground.
When Juliet saw Romeo at the dance
Events were set in motion that, perchance,
Would see fair Juliet as our Romeo’s bride
but ultimately result in her suicide.
With Tybalt and Mercutio both dead,
And Capulet and Montague estranged.
Young Paris sought fair Juliet to wed
not knowing of her loss of maiden-head.
Romeo was banished for his crime,
a sin for which a peasant would have died
Their two households, joined because they wed,
remained divided by their foolish pride.
Summer’s fierce heat shimmered in the air,
oppressive in the absence of a breeze.
With Friar Lawrence’s help, Romeo’s girl played dead,
as if struck down by some unknown disease
Romeo , in Mantua, heard that his Juliet
Lay dead amongst the sleeping Capulets.
A draught of deadly poison he obtained
So they might sleep together once again.
When Romeo met Paris at her tomb,
Words led to swordplay, leaving Paris dead.
Would not the world have been a better place
if Romeo had kept it sheathed instead?
Unshriven, Romeo drank the poison down-
the only son of Montague now dead.
Perchance just then fair Juliet revives
Bereaved, she took his Dirk to bed instead.
Authorities, arriving at the scene,
could only mourn a brace of kinsmen lost.
Capulet and Montague were reconciled
Their amity bought at a fearful cost.
The road to hereafter isn't above us in a brilliant cloudscape;
It is the footpath of a dark 8pm suburban road.
Along it are frugally scattered street lamps,
That gently ascend to a set of traffic lights within stone's throw.
The houses on each side of the road are asleep,
Few driveways shelter parked cars,
You will be walking, and it will be raining.
You will have your umbrella.
Hooded pedestrians will appear from only a few feet away,
They will be walking in the other direction.