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 Nov 2016 Damaré M
L
the mountains towered
the evening darkened
the seventh hour begins
the toxic thoughts inside your mind
are sure to win again.

the trees swayed
the earth crumbled
the moon will bear my skin
the lingering light and empty nights
have stolen a piece within.

the flames calmed
the ocean parted
the eyes of God dimmed
the world saw you for the first time
and bowed before your sins.
 Nov 2016 Damaré M
Ma Cherie
I'll paint you a pretty picture,
if you ask me to,
I can,
I'll tell you what you wanna hear,
I will be your biggest fan,

I'll write a long love letter,
& say,
I love you so,
I'll tell you that I'll always stay,
I will never let you go,

I'll sing a song so ****,
you'll wish me there right now,
I'll lay down in your bed,
do whatever you'll allow,

I'll kiss your eager lips,
so softly,
you will melt,
I'll touch you with my hands,
do things you never felt,

I'll love you much sweet baby,
I'll caress your skin tanight,
I'll hold you if you need it,
a feeling,

...oh, so right,

I'll make the night seem darker,
in the darkest lovers night,
a hot & burning candle,
a seductive little light,

Believe that I will come,
& believe that I will stay,
but listen to my words,
then get on your knees & pray,

I'll come to you a vision,
my beauty,
unsurpassed,
be careful there dear poet,
if this offer shouldn't last,

Just wish me to your door,
bring me right there,
next to you,
I'll swear on my dear grave,
that the words I say are true,

Though,
don't wait up too late,
don't count on it too much,
listen to me poet,
cuz' elusive is my touch,

This muse just doesn't wait,
so,
the offer it is fleeting,
not catching me will feel,

Like that big ol' heart stops beating.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Why not? ❤ This was fun a metaphorical view of the female muse. Inspired by an opinion on a different poem. Not everyone is gonna like or agree with all your ink, ya know? I'm good with constructive comments and criticism.. ❤ u all - & all things & spelling are intentional in here.
I'll always be there  
Even on the bad days
When I don't want to be for myself I'll be there for you
Waiting
It could never be a waste of time
So I wait and wait and wait and wait and wait some more
Living for what I love  
Not made to change only to understand, to level up
Hoping you can feel it from afar
During the times you can't look at yourself
You'll know someone loves you
Someone cares
For the thinnest half of a chance that could ever bring you comfort
That's why I'll always be there
today is your fifth birthday -
only nobody in the world knows this but me.

the 20th of November -
the death of all your unlived dreams.

happy birthday my little one,
may you rest in peace.
 Nov 2016 Damaré M
Ma Cherie
Her Father's old wool jacket,
from Johnson Mills,
in creamy white,
dark forest green,
golden amber,
in a lovely patchwork,

A soft dark winter tuke on her head,
that dark green in the background,
with rusty speckles on her cheeks,

Wet snow falls silent,
the sky is a crisp Winter blue,
the air is cold and clear,
& intoxicatingly clean,

As she breathes life in and out,
then,
looking down at her black Sorel boots
and her worn black denim jeans,
a nice old holey wool sweater,
and a maul,

A **** lumberjack?
Maybe...

Dressed to hack the wood,
the plumber thinks so,
he stops by,
a friend of hers,
sorta,

Huh?

Not invited,
but no one is around here,
we all do it,
so he helps too,

Hey I'll make lunch,
harmless flirting,
I suppose,

Because,
wood warms you 3 times they say,

Once to chop it,
two to stack it RIGHT,
three to bring it in & burn it,

But if you count the starting of the,
cantankerous chainsaw & the guy,
helping you,

And you hafta arrange & rearrange, everything,
cleaning the flue and chimney,
I'd say a few more than that,
& don't ferget to pay the man,
the cantankerous one,

Yeah he got lunch too,
and about them ashes,
could be pretty hot,
take 'em out regular,
that stove cranking too,
OUCH,

She ends up gets burned,
a few times each year,

Taday,
she's on step too,
as she picks up the heavy maul,
not to heavy for this gal,
all the way back,
watch yourself,

As a neighbor winches,
a woman chopping wood?

Yup.
That's right,
a way of life,
for her,
always has been,
poised and ready,
swing and smack,
if you hit it right,
you hear a crack,

Just like a baseball bat,
hitting a homer,

Big pieces,
are made more manageable,
when you don't try to control the force,
when you let the sharpened maul,

Do all the work,
for you.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Ugh yup did this.
 Nov 2016 Damaré M
Ma Cherie
My poet soul writes,
while,
my spirit lives the words.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Just cuz ❤
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