And if I touched
Hands of snow,
I should warm them
Make them glow.
Your reticence
I would address,
Through an honest.
Friendly caress.
How would you
Cope with my fear,
Stop me trembling
Dry my tears?
With wet hands
Coated in salty ice,
Collecting tears whilst lying,
Trying to think twice.
Make haste,
Drop the daisies.
Run home,
Before everything
Is too late.
It is only
Through inaction,
We can deny
Our love is Fate.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2017)
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
I want To Turn Feelings Into Words.
I enjoy the struggle
To make a sentence beautiful.
Use the right adjective,
Or the precise adverb
Which is suitable.
I strive to turn emotion
Into something
We can read.
Something other people
Will believe,
Open up and
Let themselves bleed .
For,
There is nothing more sad
Than an unhappy person
Deprived of honesty and worse.
Believe in nothing,
Except the lies
They nurture
In the safety
Of their own
Universe.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2017)
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
First- What is the difference between a poet and a hopeless romantic?
Second- A poet writes about other people´s feelings, too.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Sighs And Butterflies.
Sighs are but butterflies,
With no real purpose,
Or intention-
At least not enough
To mention.
Let the breeze blow,
No place in particular to go.
Just a thought,
Kind and soothing,
Of a sort.
We were in denial.
Sure of making love
And having fun.
Fight the rain,
Fly into the sun..
But truth became
A weapon.
And,
In the end,
Acceptance won.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2017)
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC
My Butterfly Story.
A butterfly landed
On me one day.
She tickled me silly,
Made me tremble
In a good way.
She tried hard to listen
To all I couldn¨t say.
But in the end,
To save herself,
She had to fly away.
I forced myself
to pray for God
To take our love away.
And for this I shall be sad,
Til my dying day.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2017)
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC
Love Needs Nurture.
Even a flower
Needs a drop
Of sentiment.
Without care
It shall
Eventually wilt.
The smallest flame
Is nothing
Without a breeze.
Gone is the flicker.
End of a life,
In one foul blow.
Pop my bubble,
Steal my air.
When I am gone
I shall not care.
Love needs nurture.
First; Can we be friends?
Second; Yes, of course.
As soon as my love is dead,
I will give you a call.
We can do coffee,
One day.
Talk vehemently.
About anything.
Probably, even smile,
As we lie to each other
About not feeling
Anything at all.
It takes time
To **** the truth.
There are no skipping stones,
Or shortcuts
From the pain.
Give love time, please,
To truly wither
And die.
Become nothing
Dry, bitter
A mutual shame.
Then the putrid ash
Of a love denied,
Falls wasted
Crushed, too sodden
To ever fly.
Some time later
We say hello.
I shed a tear
And force a smile-
The only way
Was to say goodbye.
(Gerry Aldridge ©2017)
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 2:34 PM UTC
Not Lost But Free.
I miss you-
Why shouldn´t I?
I either had to let you go,
Or watch you die.
So, now I feign pleasure
As you soar in the sky.
She is happier there
You'll hear my lies sigh.
But she comes back,
Says hello.
Trusts me. for
In a cage she is not.
We steal time together,
Lock ourselves away even.
To be together,
Close our eyes and find heaven.
With open eyes
We face the world
Once closed
We are the whole universe.
(Gerry Aldridge 2017)
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
I have never seen
A more comfortable
Place to be.
No need to leap.
Just come
Look with me .
I too, am afraid
Of closing my eyes
And confronting
What I can already see.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2017)
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
True Self.
What do you do,
When you do not want to be you?
You have thought about inventing
something else...pretending a lot did not happen.
But, in the end,
the only thing you will say as you die,
Is,
Was I free?
So, I guess
Albeit reluctantly at times,
I chose me.
Because when I die
There will be no blame.
And of course,
Nothing more to see.
But, I will absolutely not
Regret thee.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
I Bask In You.
Why is it always
A touch almost?
True love comes.
But do the sun's rays
Reach all the way?
Seems to me
They are stuck fast.
Between reality,
And the space
We are unhappy to be.
A half touch,
A supposed connection.
Glancing between ideals
And what could be perfection.
I can only look forward to
Our complete absorption.
(Gerry Aldridge ©2017
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC