deb-jones - Hello Poetry

The ocean makes it's music. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore   The wind makes its dance The whispers and the roars Together the symphony Is such a lure The ocean flirts with the shore Rushing over the sand and then retreating While waves are spreading rumors Further down the beach. It makes my heart ache Long for something I am forever missing.   Some part of me that is older Than mere years. Ancient and surreal  Inherent in my genes The call of the sea

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Jan 3

Jan 3, 2026 at 7:05 PM UTC

The Call Of The Sea

The ocean makes it's music. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore   The wind makes its dance The whispers and the roars Together the symphony Is such a lure The ocean flirts with the shore Rushing over the sand and then retreating While waves are spreading rumors Further down the beach. It makes my heart ache Long for something I am forever missing.   Some part of me that is older Than mere years. Ancient and surreal  Inherent in my genes The call of the sea

18

Dressed to impress And feel great about my dress Little black mini Hitting mid thigh Black stiletto heels My legs here to Eternity Hair swept up My nape vunerable Perfect makeup Scarlet swipe of lipstick **** kitten I stretch luxioursly I walk towards you Through the rooms Feline stalking You pause, glass in midair Wacthing me Watching you Would you rather stay in?

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Jan 3

Jan 3, 2026 at 2:21 AM UTC

Little Black Dress

Dressed to impress And feel great about my dress Little black mini Hitting mid thigh Black stiletto heels My legs here to Eternity Hair swept up My nape vunerable Perfect makeup Scarlet swipe of lipstick **** kitten I stretch luxioursly I walk towards you Through the rooms Feline stalking You pause, glass in midair Wacthing me Watching you Would you rather stay in?

19

I went to a gun range once With 6 men I had never fired a gun before 2 were helping me While the other men Were handing me guns to try One rifle knocked me to the ground Left a dark bruise On my shoulder The men laughed The handgun I preferred Kept getting jammed I wonder now if I was firing too fast It jammed for the last time And…. I turned to Kent and Jim With the gun pointed up Close to my ear My finger still on the trigger It fired again Cutting through My hair The bullet Cut a path Through the canopy overhead Kent ****** my hand down While he removed the gun Dead silence Then everyone yelled at once

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Dec 13, 2025

Dec 13, 2025 at 11:46 AM UTC

The Gun Range

I went to a gun range once With 6 men I had never fired a gun before 2 were helping me While the other men Were handing me guns to try One rifle knocked me to the ground Left a dark bruise On my shoulder The men laughed The handgun I preferred Kept getting jammed I wonder now if I was firing too fast It jammed for the last time And…. I turned to Kent and Jim With the gun pointed up Close to my ear My finger still on the trigger It fired again Cutting through My hair The bullet Cut a path Through the canopy overhead Kent ****** my hand down While he removed the gun Dead silence Then everyone yelled at once

29

Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for a living. And the child born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.

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Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 8:50 PM UTC

Monday’s Child

Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for a living. And the child born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.

8

Shows a black flag of four wise monkeys. An extension on the pictorial maxim of the 'three wise monkeys'. Together they embody the Japanese proverbial principle to "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". The three monkeys are Mizaru, covering his eyes, who sees no evil; Kikazaru, covering his ears, who hears no evil; and Iwazaru, covering his mouth, who speaks no evil. The fourth monkey is Shizaru, symbolising the principle of "do no evil", and is forced into covering his abodomen and crossing his arms by wearing a straight-jacket and has a paper bag over his head

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Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 8:18 PM UTC

4 Wise Monkeys

Shows a black flag of four wise monkeys. An extension on the pictorial maxim of the 'three wise monkeys'. Together they embody the Japanese proverbial principle to "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". The three monkeys are Mizaru, covering his eyes, who sees no evil; Kikazaru, covering his ears, who hears no evil; and Iwazaru, covering his mouth, who speaks no evil. The fourth monkey is Shizaru, symbolising the principle of "do no evil", and is forced into covering his abodomen and crossing his arms by wearing a straight-jacket and has a paper bag over his head

1

I am humbled by the walks I take in your heads The stirring of my soul The tears that I have shed For the beauty of your poetry For the looks into your life For your tragedies And for your resilience I have laughed at droll poets I have said little prayers for the heartbroken Always awed by your lyricism Been inspired by you all I am forever thankful I have met you

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Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 8:13 PM UTC

To HP

I am humbled by the walks I take in your heads The stirring of my soul The tears that I have shed For the beauty of your poetry For the looks into your life For your tragedies And for your resilience I have laughed at droll poets I have said little prayers for the heartbroken Always awed by your lyricism Been inspired by you all I am forever thankful I have met you

13

I went to YouTube to look up the song suggested by Nick Moore about the Poem “The men that don’t fit in” by Baker street, Jerry Rafferty. The first thing that was tossed at me before I even typed the first letter was that I needed a buff-muff. Follow other women participating in this seemingly necessary Buff **** Method I also needed to pay $17 to be a part of this burn your bra movement Ha, where do I sign up and who do I pay, including tip? Then upon further investigation, I realized it’s about incontinence. I then imagined a lot of the women signing up and scooting on laminated and sealed wet floors on their butts. No further **** was mentioned. Carry on

0

Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 8:10 PM UTC

Looking For An Artist

I went to YouTube to look up the song suggested by Nick Moore about the Poem “The men that don’t fit in” by Baker street, Jerry Rafferty. The first thing that was tossed at me before I even typed the first letter was that I needed a buff-muff. Follow other women participating in this seemingly necessary Buff **** Method I also needed to pay $17 to be a part of this burn your bra movement Ha, where do I sign up and who do I pay, including tip? Then upon further investigation, I realized it’s about incontinence. I then imagined a lot of the women signing up and scooting on laminated and sealed wet floors on their butts. No further **** was mentioned. Carry on

9

I once had a four bedroom condominium For 12 years Before I sold it The first 11 years or so I slept there twice alone It was beautifully decorated Like a hollow showpiece Everything was perfect Except me I had get togethers with others Friends and family both Card parties, Book club, Professional meetings… But after everyone left I cleaned and left too No one ever knew The extent of my compulsion No man ever slept there When asked, I said no Then added, Please take me to your home And they always did And the reason why… I left my husband And our beautiful home Even kept paying the mortgage But I punished myself for leaving My punishment was my walk alone I still loved him I still do even now He didn’t do anything wrong I would stay the night with him Once in a while Which sounds confusing, I know But I deeply hurt a good man And I had to atone By loving him unconditionally So my punishment was a condominium Decorated and protected A gated community Monitored by security And the two nights I slept there? I pretended I wasn’t alone All I had to do was reach back And he would be there Ready to hold me The day he got married I was finally free He tells me she is good to him But his family refuses to love her Because they love me

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Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC

The Condominium

I once had a four bedroom condominium For 12 years Before I sold it The first 11 years or so I slept there twice alone It was beautifully decorated Like a hollow showpiece Everything was perfect Except me I had get togethers with others Friends and family both Card parties, Book club, Professional meetings… But after everyone left I cleaned and left too No one ever knew The extent of my compulsion No man ever slept there When asked, I said no Then added, Please take me to your home And they always did And the reason why… I left my husband And our beautiful home Even kept paying the mortgage But I punished myself for leaving My punishment was my walk alone I still loved him I still do even now He didn’t do anything wrong I would stay the night with him Once in a while Which sounds confusing, I know But I deeply hurt a good man And I had to atone By loving him unconditionally So my punishment was a condominium Decorated and protected A gated community Monitored by security And the two nights I slept there? I pretended I wasn’t alone All I had to do was reach back And he would be there Ready to hold me The day he got married I was finally free He tells me she is good to him But his family refuses to love her Because they love me

51

I was far from home My anxiety was rampant, Felt like mice were chewing in my mind I was driving even further away From silk pillows From a warm bed In the flashes of lightening The road ahead Looked like wet soot The rain was relentless The wipers thumped rhythmically Like a dirge in a funeral march The rock formations I passed Were the color of white ashes. Even where the large ones were amassed Most of the rocks seemed to be thrown down randomly As if from the hand of a grumpy child In a Stephen King novel I wouldn’t meet my own eyes in the rear view mirror Scared of what or who I would see? I reached up and turned it further away The engine revved in a parody of a race My bare feet… One was suddenly on the brake But the other foot was still pressing The accelerator to the floor I finally turned my head to look at you You were looking at me, with a strange grin I thought I had left you behind You were the reason I ran I woke up to the car suddenly spinning My heart was pounding My breath was hitching I was sitting upright in bed Where was I going? Why did I feel the need to run from you? I remind myself It was just a wicked dream Wasn’t it? I turned my head to look at you Still sleeping, unknowing I urgently need to leave Through the open window I could smell petrichor The earthy smell of rain on dirt I listened to the soft rat-a-tat Of the falling rain My imagination had strutted like a rooster. What would I have seen In that mirror? A rictus, fixed grimace, myself or someone else Why do I want to scare myself? I quietly picked my scattered clothes up off the floor I stepped into the hall Dressing by the open door I was thinking of my dream….just run One of the many credentials I hold is as a RPSGT, Registered Polysomnographer Therapist. I study and score sleeping patients. I am a dream expert. What I especially like about it is how our minds take the mundane and give it flare. Did you know most people dream in black and white? Did you know you control everything in your dream? How cool is that? And absolutely everyone dreams. Whether you remember your dreams or not. Its all entertainment I could ramble on about this for hours. Clarification, Dreams, are made up of you. Every character, every word and action is something you decided to add to the story. If you are a lucid dreamer? You can change the script. And be in more control of what you need to do in your dreams. Trying to come to a understanding of something that is bothering you? Just dream about it. Tell yourself right before going to sleep what the issue is, keep repeating it. Close your eyes and keep thinking about it. Your thoughts will follow you down into slumber. Especially during the first stage of sleep, where you are the most suggestible, and Rapid Eye Movement sleep where you are actively dreaming. Do this often and you will get better at it. REM sleep is the hardest to be awakened from. And the longest to recover from. Taking up to thirty minutes to an hour to be fully functional. You will know someone is in REM by the eye movement.

0

Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 7:54 PM UTC

Dreams

I was far from home My anxiety was rampant, Felt like mice were chewing in my mind I was driving even further away From silk pillows From a warm bed In the flashes of lightening The road ahead Looked like wet soot The rain was relentless The wipers thumped rhythmically Like a dirge in a funeral march The rock formations I passed Were the color of white ashes. Even where the large ones were amassed Most of the rocks seemed to be thrown down randomly As if from the hand of a grumpy child In a Stephen King novel I wouldn’t meet my own eyes in the rear view mirror Scared of what or who I would see? I reached up and turned it further away The engine revved in a parody of a race My bare feet… One was suddenly on the brake But the other foot was still pressing The accelerator to the floor I finally turned my head to look at you You were looking at me, with a strange grin I thought I had left you behind You were the reason I ran I woke up to the car suddenly spinning My heart was pounding My breath was hitching I was sitting upright in bed Where was I going? Why did I feel the need to run from you? I remind myself It was just a wicked dream Wasn’t it? I turned my head to look at you Still sleeping, unknowing I urgently need to leave Through the open window I could smell petrichor The earthy smell of rain on dirt I listened to the soft rat-a-tat Of the falling rain My imagination had strutted like a rooster. What would I have seen In that mirror? A rictus, fixed grimace, myself or someone else Why do I want to scare myself? I quietly picked my scattered clothes up off the floor I stepped into the hall Dressing by the open door I was thinking of my dream….just run One of the many credentials I hold is as a RPSGT, Registered Polysomnographer Therapist. I study and score sleeping patients. I am a dream expert. What I especially like about it is how our minds take the mundane and give it flare. Did you know most people dream in black and white? Did you know you control everything in your dream? How cool is that? And absolutely everyone dreams. Whether you remember your dreams or not. Its all entertainment I could ramble on about this for hours. Clarification, Dreams, are made up of you. Every character, every word and action is something you decided to add to the story. If you are a lucid dreamer? You can change the script. And be in more control of what you need to do in your dreams. Trying to come to a understanding of something that is bothering you? Just dream about it. Tell yourself right before going to sleep what the issue is, keep repeating it. Close your eyes and keep thinking about it. Your thoughts will follow you down into slumber. Especially during the first stage of sleep, where you are the most suggestible, and Rapid Eye Movement sleep where you are actively dreaming. Do this often and you will get better at it. REM sleep is the hardest to be awakened from. And the longest to recover from. Taking up to thirty minutes to an hour to be fully functional. You will know someone is in REM by the eye movement.

70

To be a star, you must burn. To be a flower, you must blossom. To be art, you must be created. To be music, you must be played. To be a river, you must flow. And to be a lover, you just love

0

Dec 11, 2025

Dec 11, 2025 at 7:39 PM UTC

Immortality Unconditional

To be a star, you must burn. To be a flower, you must blossom. To be art, you must be created. To be music, you must be played. To be a river, you must flow. And to be a lover, you just love

12