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 Jan 2018 Rosà
Telia
Hug
 Jan 2018 Rosà
Telia
Hug
People tell me I need therapy
But they wont see
That all I ever wanted was a hug
 Jan 2018 Rosà
Victor Hugo
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies
 Jan 2018 Rosà
Alice
Perhaps if I lay him on his side
he will become something.

He will blink his plastic eyes and
stretch his padless paws out and upward.

If a knead his hide just right
the blind eyes will see
and the black string mouth
will turn red and wet.

A scratch on the belly
and his stuffing will turn to organs.
A kiss on the nose
and he will listen to his head
not my hands.

His floppy, fraying tail will wag
and his shaggy white hair will be fur.

But its 10 year old ears do not hear
and it’s worn out old tail does not shake.

Forever asleep,
for old toys never wake.
Her lips may drip honey
But her teeth drip blood
She'll spend all your money
She'll squander your love

She's got no good intentions
She's got no noble cause
And all her inventions
Are deadly as claws

Beware the Bad Woman
She's pretty as a follower
She's bad things a-comin'
She'll leave you sad and sour
The blues baby. I'm talkin' about the blues
 Jan 2018 Rosà
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

— The End —