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Wrote this eons ago, tonight, once more,
spend some human capital, editing...
Something to think about
as we tuck ourselves in.

the young'uns keep on asking me for tips,
secrets, to this art, magical poetry gig,
as if I had any left unrevealed.  

recalled this old'n,
from a vintage poetry year,
as a suggestion,
a stating-starting place,
for young poets:

do not self-chain,
let the words take you where
they lead, write them up
for the rhyme is waiting,
in the heart chest deep down,
not on the screen.

I read you Goodnight Moon,
Falling asleep beside you.


<•>

People stop rhyming...

When first you overcome your fears,
And dare to put on paper your tears,
Give it up, set yourself free from the shackles,
Of thinking a rhyme is a necessity for a
Rooting tooting writing of a
**** good poem

If you feel lost,
Want to share the cost,
Feel not bossed,
By a newbie's need
to believe that if it rhymes
Everyone will like your poem
Just fine

And if you get past this stage,
And advance to the next page,
Do not think that writing down a sentence of
Your mind's first up, innermost thoughts,
Is something that will make you
Less lost, heralded, worthy of a parade,
And be blessed with an A  
In your Teacher's pet grade book

My heart broke.
I feel bad.
I feel sad
Cause my man/woman left me
And I hope
Someone kicks his or her ***

That Ain't No Poem Neither...

And if you can't help but complain repeatedly
How life ***** and you're feeling blue
extremely indiscreetly,
Don't make me try on your scribblings
intimately indiscriminately,
Read a million, even wrote a few myself

You think you can write?

Then employ a word outside your comfort zone,
Go it alone,
Write just four sentences that will make
The hopeful reader stand up and you,
Twice as much, and shout

Hallelujah *******.

Work. Poetry is work. Hard work.
Don't fret. But, think on it.
Let it come easy, then let it rest,.
Then spend days editing every comma,
And when you love it so much,
You are chest busting bursting,
Why have you not pressed Send already?

Have the sweetest dreams.
In the morning, when you but awake,
A poem will be aborning in thy mind,
And dare I say it, you will find a new freedom
In free verse.
(I know you will slip in a rhyme or two,
I can't help but do it too)

G' nite!
Why is that parents plant ideas in your brain as you're falling aslee..............

Just a suggestion....what do I know,
I keep drinking myself to oblivion
I get ****** so much medusa would be jealous
I can't stay sober
I was high in love
Now I get high to forget
To erase you from my life
Like you erased me

But you wrote yourself in permanent marker
Across my heart
And i am stained all over
That no bleach can take out

Now, I compare everything to you
While I fall asleep thinking of you, the butterflies in my stomach are wide awake.
When I wake up thinking about you, all my troubles and worries slip into slumber.
The more I get, the more I want to stay away.
The more I stay away, the more I want.
I try to walk away but my legs don't move,
When my legs move, my heart's still stuck in my moment with you.
The drag of your slightest touch sparks a fire that no one can extinguish,
You have me drowning in the pool of my fantasies.
You stubborn inferno,
You gentle sea.
The power to move my blood at your accord,
Yet not enough to move me away from you.
You're my down fall
You're my strength
And
I hate that I love you
Yay or nay?
 Aug 2017 Anthony Reynolds
Hannah
I don't know
which way to go.
I'm blinded by
the tears in my eyes,
and numb
to the way I feel inside,
but baby,
at least the bottle's dry.
when the time comes for me to pass
they shall lay me neath the shadow cast
by the great oak standing silent, true
watching over me
and you
when light wind blows
in sunlight's trance
I hear your whispers
through leaves they dance
I take your hand
o'er the fields we stroll
your head on my shoulder
as the church bell toll
in the mood for something a bit less dark
 Aug 2017 Anthony Reynolds
bex
A moment cuffs you in the face
like Newton's overstated apple,
and the evening dissolves
into sharp, steady resolve...
You think about the extra drink you should have drunk,
the song you should have sung
and the man whose touch y so missed...

The Muse had disappeared.
**** Muse.

Every time you try to find news you want to *****,
not just a little, but expel the very core of emptiness out of you,
and you picked a fine time to stop swearing
because there is a man whose feel you have so **** missed...

The stars continue to twinkle across the Northern Sky,  
oblivious to the bouncing of our big Blue Ball,
un-answering dreamful wishes;
though, there are other stars lying closer to your heart,
a fresh start and the barbells below...  
And you realize
life is found in the letting go...

And the Muse reappears, smiles an aching, wondrous, Hello.
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