There was a poet on HP
Who had alot of ♡
He tried to stay
     out of the fights
He kept himself apart
He had a love of poetry
He lived for his art.

Talented, he made "the grade"
As "minded" poets do
But he didn't try
     to "people please"
And so mean writes
     eschewed.
When he encountered
     "lesser lights" he didn't
     make them blue
But put ♡s on them as well
For their hearts were true.

Time went by... how it did fly!
As if given wings!
He found he had "The Daily"
(When there was
     such a thing)
He tried to READ all poets
     but could not, everything...
So he decided just to read
The small group
     within his ring.

He would NOT be purchased.
He would NOT be sold.
He was TRUE to his beliefs
Of his Faith quite bold.

Not only did he ♡
He gave "thumbs up" as well!
He reposted and was good
In fact, the man was swell!

He had a grateful following
But, as fate is wont
He couldn't keep up
     with the load...
Found his health was shot
But he tried to be a light
He tried to give folks thought.

His readership got smaller
It seemed like every day.
He still tried to be genuine
And true in every way
But nobody wanted
     him no more
He began to fade away...
Where the
     rubber hits the road
He began to PRAY.

If you don't know
     who this is,
Replace the "he" with "she"
She believes
And truly grieves

That poet would be ME.


♡ Catherine

Alone in the jasmine scented balcony,
letting oily darkness rub all over me
( sensual ointment to subdue my ****** unease)
my heart was full of echoes of  beloved moon
(which one of them would appear soon
to wash me in the copious shower of love)

In a moment she appears in a resplendent gown
making darkness melt and dissolve,
clambering up the stairs to get near me,
one moment earlier, she can

As she, my woman, like a new moon
was about to wield  her spell on me,
with wonder I see the full moon herself
clad in her diaphanous gown of fluffy clouds.

She comes up on the stairs of a mountain,
one by one, spilling the brilliance of her heady spell,
all over my lovelorn tantalized being.

Between the spells of two beloved moons
tell me , how could I not lose gravity
I swim  in the sweet sea of an ecstatic swoon

Lightning is the fleeting thorn of blooming thunder
The self-erasing crack into the sky window
The laceration of the clouds that left no scar
And sealed itself instantly
And bled to life bountiful
Shifting afloat in deep grey

*

The lightning showed me the way
To the burning tree
The clouds were dark with worry
That I would not see
The thunder told me to hurry
Before the earth swallows me

I'm tasting sugar on my eyelids
Syrup on my irises
Sour on my heartstrings
Bitter in my arteries
But we are more than corporeal
Meant to fly
And cross the boundaries
Transcend the frames of nature’s canvas
Spill our colors farther than the physical
We invent what we do not discover
The horizons and the realms of our future
And I am just like you
A mess of senses that
perception blends into

I'm hurt,
Its not you who hurt,
not your intention to hurt,
It's me,
my thought for you,
my suggestions for you,
is killing me like the hell.
My expectation on you,
on your feeling,
on your expectation on me.
Its the situation that hurt me,
the situation to expect more on you,
the situation to belief more on you.
It's me, who hurt me.