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 Nov 2012 Mike T
Sabrina D
Coffee.
 Nov 2012 Mike T
Sabrina D
I’ll ring you late,
about ten.
“sure”
you’ll say
and we meet
at the coffee shop,
old,
wallpaper peeled
on each side,
but my favourite.

One,
two coffees,
soy latte for me,
mocha for yourself.
We wander down
abandoned roads
unsure of the destination,
but sure of ourselves,
as we are lost
in conversation.

Cigarette smoke
in air,
and heartbeat quickened,
i feel my love
for you grow.
Yet how can I love
when it is not returned?
Why am i stuck
to my emotions,
grounded by will?

Heartbeat is racing now.
I want to kiss you,
hold you,
the air is cold
and I wish to be warmed
by you,
and only you.
 Nov 2012 Mike T
Olga Valerevna
Catch the water dripping down
Like beads of glass, so small and round 
And as the sun comes out to shine
You'll see kaleidoscopes defined

Colors made anew each day
They're more than words can ever say
The lives we paint inside our heads
Will find some rest upon their beds

Sleep in dark to find the light 
Then use the day as wings for flight
Every moment leads to this
The seconds gone but not amiss  

How the dreamers build a world
For all who breathe to be unfurled 
Lungs release the filtered air 
And wake the souls with perfect care
For the dreamers, we are everyone.
I tried to write a poem
about something else but you
all I write about is love
not a single more would do.

I started thinking elsewhere
peering to the corners of my mind
it’s been so long since I’ve been here
and so cobwebs I did find.

Then I looked around my room
at my books and at my bed
I drift to a time I wish was now
holding hands, under covers while we read.

I flip on the blank television
to try and find me something new
but when I see two lovers kiss
it only brings me back to you.

I go outside in hopes to find
a gust of wind to ******* back
but all I feel is the pouring rain
and some lightning trying to crack

So now I sit here staring
at my paper and at my pen
after all that I should have known
it’d be about you in the end.
(fictional tale of real beverages)


he sat at table number 9
she chose 10
their eyes never met
but only through the wall wide gilded mirror across the room
he thought her name was Faith
she guessed his was Luke
he took a sip from his mocha massimo every 41 secs
she guessed he was 41, slowly stirring her white-no-sugar earl grey
she wondered if the ******* page three of his 'Sun' was a blond, a brunette or a red head
he wondered what principle she's at in 'Why men love *******'
they ate lemon and poppy seed muffins with small bites
his lips were firm
hers unable to hold on to the cheery blush lipstick any longer
he thought she was single and had a RSPCA rescued cat called Biscuit
she guessed he was married with three children and a wife called Porscha
she must be driving a Ka
he must be driving a Jag
she waters her plants every Tuesday, goes to pilates classes on Thursday and on Sundays she watches Terms of Endearment in her pink jumper with her friend Chris and a box of tissues
he walks his dog at 7, plays rugby for Long Lane on Saturdays and on Fridays goes for a pint of Guiness with his friend, Joe
he snores/ she sings in the shower
he's a catholic/ she never quite liked Jesus
he hates his wife/ she loves her cookies
they laugh at the old woman shouting at a bus driver in the street and hate gyms, cyclists in Lycra and anything to do with politics
they secretly read Keats, eat onion bagels and tomato soup and listen to Gershwin

*

they never spoke
they never will
because if they would
Faith would never be able to watch Star Wars again and Luke -
Luke would lose his faith in
love at first sight
 Oct 2012 Mike T
May Sarton
Here is a glass of water from my well.
It tastes of rock and root and earth and rain;
It is the best I have, my only spell,
And it is cold, and better than champagne.
Perhaps someone will pass this house one day
To drink, and be restored, and go his way,
Someone in dark confusion as I was
When I drank down cold water in a glass,
Drank a transparent health to keep me sane,
After the bitter mood had gone again.
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