I desire a daily verse:
A dose of well-worded fun;
Be it verbose or terse
Wrap it in a witty pun!

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists

Complete Solace
After evey difficulty there is complete solace
Sheer contempt and hatred can change into love
What a wonderful system of Lord with grace
Love remains a complete chain all from the above
Beauty has its own reward to cherish to celebrate
To bring resonance in all difficult hours of trial
Lord is great to ameliorate this sweet excellent state
In every difficulty we have to have this for a while
Life is a great gift to be taken with all humbleness
Humans are the best creation ,is declaration of Lord
From the first day of bearth till last day its bless
Lord is extra kind to lookafter His every sweet ward
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright July 2o2o Love Remains

I don't believe
Freedom is real
I do believe
This world
Understands
No more wars
Stop it before it began

I don't believe
Your world
Is the same
Millionaires
I do believe
Freedom
Has yet to come

where sleep no longer treads
these eyes endlessly weep
before the dawn
I step in the shadows kept
at these feet
always these moments
where I’m restless
yet, the emotion
is high
always the very
early mornings
am I profoundly
aligned
with who I am
and all that stood
before me
inside me
has found its
way to
release

A swift hit onto a plain wall
is far better
than an aching heart
that felt what the eyes have seen

My hands have a purpose
but it's far more fragile
than the love it holds

I'll break both
for I have grown numb,
Yet my eyes are waterfalls
that I need to put a dam
for you to not see the tears

You remember how we met,
The train stopped,
Our eyes met,
You said,"Hello!"
Your beautiful grey eyes stole away my words,
You became an ocean full feeling in that one single look.
10/7/2020

Over his years he had collected then
Not being sure of their date or place
Finding them digging the thatchers
Seventeenth century wasteland plot.


Stone Age in style and shape combine
To give a sense out of today’s machine
Fashioned by hand to be implements
On a windowsill now like organic rocks.


Love Mary **

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Unwavering
Until the end of time.

Some dreamy like starry skies,
Some shiny like fire flies,
Some visionary like poetry,
Some breathe aggressively.

Memories, that's what they say,
They are footprints of yesterday.

Todays new millionth sunrise bids me stand,
observe the river traffic from my kitchen window,
accept that my takings are debts,
a few, even paid back,
yet, most still owed,
for the origins of all my poems,
are oddly and oddity old,
unoriginal, second, third handed
as I look through the eyes of the dead,
and yours too,
this my unoriginal,
original sin....
(pretending  I am a poet)

nightingales attend
somber, stars
soul departs, eve flight

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?

I think in feeling too much, I forgot what it means to feel at all

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

These kids can't cope,
don't eat on time.
They stomp craters in sidewalks
on their way to the
culling.
They choke me in comet tails,
blear beauty through brains,
cursing at cops,
stooping to saviors.
They streak their spit like evidence.

These kids get angry,
get plosive,
like it was kissing or grinning.
These kids get angry,
and I've yet to say thanks.

I will always be there for you
I will always care about you
I will always fight for you
I will always love you

you were never there for me
you never cared, your silence was the key
you never fought for me, instead, you broke me free
you didn't love me, you  never accepted you and me
because you  judged a person I was never meant to be

Someday you'll realize I was there when no one else was.
That I loved you like no other, and I didn't judge you like the others
Makes me wonder, why do I still bother?

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't

I do not know, sweet love
Where you lay your head,
I do not seek your secrets,
Nor your truth
I am satisfied with lies,
That taste of wasted youth

Healing leaves are now disrobed branches
on the edge of this wilderness.
Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel
over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves
expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds
adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace
Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand
in this harmony and peacefulness.


Jesse Stillwater — December 2018

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.