Leon waits in the lobby of the apartments his bag packed by his feet
he knows they are coming for him it might be tonight or some night
last night it was the couple opposite the security men rushing them off the woman crying the kids taken off to an orphanage
he sits there dressed and ready his wife gone off to her sister in the countryside outside Moscow hidden no doubt
the night before last the apartments over the road were raided and many taken off in black vans no one kicked up a fuss Ягнята на убой- lambs to the slaughter-
he sighs he wishes they would get on with it he prefers for them to come for him now rather while he was asleep and they banged in the night for him and rushed him to get dressed shouting and threatening
but they do not come at least not tonight dawn comes through the window they will not come now he has to go to work soon he gazes out of the window at the fading silver moon.
The Great Terror in Stalin's Russian saw the arrest of millions
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)
Her eyes were fiery While her lips peeled away Her sun was setting But her colors never fade When she bites she is bitter But when she smiles she is sweet Like a nectarine emblem She’s the fruit of life’s tree.
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
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.
I think you're gone but there is inside me that voice disapproving, judging I had celebrated my freedom with a Budweiser and some tears not realising like Steven King's Lawnmower Man you had been released into my every nerve ending my very being part of my matrix in life you had the strength of an ark angel and as I stumble over these words I am afraid retribution is at hand I am still scared of secrets to let too much show you once asked if I still write poetry after dissing it well I'd hardly call it that this is my fear factory
I’m here looking down on it all wrapped in a blanket a book lies next to me pages flipping themselves in the cool summer breeze inside are the sounds of life outside are the sounds of the questioning the air is filled with random notes fluttering around me like guardian angels I know why they’re here
darkness sat down next to me to keep me company we look at the flickering lights in the distance he tells me you’d do fine down there if you wanted to be a light surrounded by light but then he shifts his gaze the moonlight dancing through his being but you’d do great up there be a light where no one has dared to be and with that he left
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
Yesterday I noticed your eyes... Today I said I like you... Tomorrow I will probably say I love you... I wish yesterday had happened 20 years ago... You mean so much to me... That in 20 years I will probably still see you as the beautiful angel I met... Yesterday...
Set your sights out west, my friend And know that on your back Will always rest the dawn. Follow not These golden roads paved by fools Where every toll asks payment from The only treasure one would hate to lose. Pull the reigns on your hurried pace, and Sing to silence when it calls your name.