Life won’t wait for you
to wake up from your pain
Don’t wait till your happy
to learn to live again
Run further than your fears
Through that open door fast
Jump the hurdles in your mind
reminding you of the past
Don’t look back behind you
Keep your head held up high
Know when you can’t keep up
Hope, won’t leave you there to die

I’m writing a poem
and I need a rhyme with ‘Cat’
but nothing kiddy
like ‘Sat’ or ‘Mat’
Something long
like a Cadillac
something for change
like a laundromat
Something as strong
as an acrobat
Something as rich
as an aristocrat
Something as catchy
as a copycat
Yet something
simple
something
clean
Something like that
If you know what I mean

Love gives you words that
cannot be expressed
only through sounds of
the human heart
and I have no words
than this, so lay
your head upon my chest
half a heart can only grant you
the eighth note

If you try
to close your eye
and keep your thoughts
in to think
Take care
not to sleep
in too deep
at a flicker of a slightest

blink

I’ve fallen asleep
many times
lying down

ink and paper in hand

To find my thoughts
splattered around
so I’ve learned to write
while I stand

try
to not lie
and write
the right
way up

You may find
thoughts like mine
spill

and never stop

by the time
you have this read
you’ll think it’s in my head

so no…it’s

dripping down

You will find
It’s not in
my mind
but
in my toes

flowing on the ground.

The last meal I will eat
The last of fears I’ll defeat

The last bottle I will drink
The last loop I will link

The last chance I will take
The last speech I will make

The last invite I’ll attend
The last message I will send

The last call I will accept
The last part I’ll dissect

The last path I will pave
The last coin I will save

The last option I will choose
The last friend I will lose

The last wrong I will right
The last battle I will fight

The last confession I’ll admit
The last piece I will fit

The last shoe I will shine
The last letter I will sign

The last song I will sing
The last bell I will ring

The last line I will draw
The last grain I will store

The last claim I will stake
The last breath I will take

The last of love I will give
The last of life I will live

The last of dust I will bite
The last of words I will write

To all my friends and followers

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4505530/merry-christmas/

Love is more like a cone
than a cube
two rounded tops
curved like a tube
steeping down to a peak
soft like ice-cream sweet
and smooth

Love is more like two spheres
than a flat crest
beautifully moulded
and rounded
like a woman’s breast
perfectly placed here
(pointing to my chest)

Love is more like a triangle
than a square
sharp at a point
then curves from there
ends at a downward angle
then circles to the start
It’s symmetrical, identical
made of two equal parts

love is more like
the shape of my heart

Today I will fall inlove
because tomorrow may never come
I’ll pick daisies in the form of your name
I’ll plant the scent of invisible roses in our minds
like eternal gardens created for us before time  
I’ll place a cup of coffee beside our first greeting of ‘hello’

Today I will fall in love
because poetry cannot satisfy
I’ll carry the books of poets you devour
hold them close in the library called my heart
I’ll write the letters you’d never read,
because if you read them you’d fall in love
with my tears not my eyes
Today, I’ll place them beneath your smile
for you to discover

Today I want to fall in love
because you can always refurbish
an old fire place and ashes can be removed
but not the hour nor a day like today
Today I will fall inlove
because I still can and I will
for love never dies, but life may,
before love finds its own place
to exist every day like you and I

You staying was
the longest goodbye

I want to hide in
someone else’s house
sleep in the retreat room
and be myself
wear a slipper
drink a cup of tea
lie back in their chair
and watch TV

I want to hide
in someone else’s house
spray some cologne
and be myself
look at photographs
forget about me
leave the noise outside
browse the library

I want to hide
in someone else’s house
deeper in the forest
and be myself
lost in their walls
as far as can be
maybe up in the attic
alone but free

I want to hide
In someone else’s house
look through the rooms
and find myself
if only I could
try find a key
for my own house
won’t house me

I want to hide
in someone else’s house
not be a Jesus,
just be myself
just another piece missing
like missing socks
still finding peace
being Goldilocks

He asked her if she would like him
to get her a cup of coffee.

“That would be amazing”, she replied.

“No”, he said. “Amazing would be, me giving you the world”.

“corny”, she said.

Nonetheless, he wished he could.

You asked me
what my name was
I told you, “I was Jack”
But now that I’ve got to know you
can I take that back?
I’m actually Frank
and I only said that lie
in case I didn’t like you
and you come looking for that guy
but now that I love you
call me what you like
call me nice guy Gary
or even magic Mike
I’ll live up to any name
I’ll become any man
just call me ‘whatever’
and please,
call me when you can

In my mind I have you dancing

In my heart I have you sleep

In my soul I have you forever

“Do you think we’ll ever be ok?”, she asked

“Depends what you mean by ok”, I replied

She then, gave me a look that spoke a thousand words and said, “okay”.

I’m not going to be famous
selling strawberries
writing poems
or preaching till we perish
especially, not through
this poem
your poem
or any we may cherish
considering the pressure I am under
and the number
of one more follower
to follow me
while I’m following your poetry
I may write and write I do
because like you I like them too
and though they may be the best
I know I can be my worst critic
whether I loathe or I like it
I wont lay my pen to rest
with my words and ways
till then, I’ll have my own novels read
and applaud my own plays
and be famous
in my own head

Fluffy little sadness
lurking in my soul
Just one more little sad song
sing along and feel whole
Sadness feels like a fur ball
we choke, cough and toss
sticky, gooey, hairy
not as sweet as fairy floss

now swallowing the sorrow
we slouch too sensitive in our seat
feeling sticky in self pity
finding comfort in bitter sweet
Oh wake from the stinking wallow
may we learn a thing or two
feels good moping in warm and fuzzy
but so does barefoot in warm poo

You’re that feeling that burns
every time you’re filled, not spent
we go back to learn
It wasn’t what I meant

The strong promises and lines
that couldn’t be broken, you bent
among all the go around rhymes
It wasn’t what I meant

The absent truths and stains
of every little word stolen, you lent
only to borrow pain and play
It wasn’t what I meant

and when you finally understood
phrases couldn’t be ripped, but rent
now there’s that silent separation
It wasn’t what I meant.

A vacated ghost town
where the dust has settled
and only the few passerby’s
poets and dreamers
stopping over for the night

Why can’t we build a tree house?
In our own backyard behind the sky
away from a wailing world
far from where we lay and die
Why can’t we build a tree house?
To house and hold our dreams
our pictures pitched on wooden planks
’we were once ere’ inscribed on beams
A heart etched in a tree stump
Below where our forbidden kisses are found
No one to discover our hidden bites
Unless we let the ladder down
Our insecurities were safe up here
while I sketched your naked skin
every curvature and crease of secrecy
You read your poetry and let me in
on our backs, we gazed at the night sky
we sipped wine or drank some tea
In silence we shared unspoken words
wondering if stars have a tree
And now often I wish upon a star
now your another’s spouse
…are you happy?

…or dreaming of the same star
with our own tree house?

I will never say
It is unfair that I am the one
always sacrificing for you
whether you love me
or not, I do not
love you to receive
to change you or I leave
I love being the one
who loves you, regardless
I truly do

and if I be not willing
to lay my life down in truth
or be compelled by love
and sacrifice as I do
then please, please
walk away and tell me,
I’m not worthy of the way,
you would have
loved me too

I was short of a dream
walking along a quiet stream
by a salty shore of pain unseen
people asked, “Where have you been ?”

My eyes red, through things I reap
I have drunk the sting of tears I weep
and drowned my soul in shallow deep
cried out my heart in silent sleep

None to hear or heal my pain
I kept it hidden inside a grain
with roots thick through seasons of rain
twisting branches upon barren plain

Till I cried no more, red eyes can’t see
and  lay myself beneath this tree
budding bitterness as bitter can be
I fed off its fruits and buried me

It’s the end of the world, as we know it
So hurry, hold me close and we can slow it

Beneath a burning sky, lets hold the other
Forget the fights and heartaches, my lover

Meet me down that alley, where we first met
where the fire hasn’t spread there yet

Let us speak the things that remain unsaid
and sit our hearts down, inside our head

Can I call you ‘my wife’, before the end?
There may not be a morrow, but we can pretend

Let’s find a church before they’re burned to the ground
Make our vows before the sky falls down

Take my hand and run through the streets
Sing our love before the chaos proceeds

Play the tune that we’ll always remember
dance beneath a red moon, now or never

The world may think we're a little mad
yet, it’s the best of days we’ve ever had

You and I, my love, are forever
it’s not over till we’re over

If the early bird gets the worm
then a late worm will live
but if there be an early bird
then there must be a late bird
and if so, the late worm will also die

Every great poem begins with a great line
but not this poem, this poem of mine
it has its flaws and it ends with rhyme
like every poem I write, every time
But every poet can be great, I heard it said
if you write a poem, not to be scared
to be judged, or write to be read
keep it real, raw and great in your head

“What’s your
favourite colour?”,
she asked,
I replied, “black”.

“Black, like the night?”
she questioned
And went on
to question,
“Black’s not a colour”,
and she was right

But, I’d choose black
for anything
black car
black jeans
black beans
All my favourite things.

We paused

“What’s your favourite colour?”,
I asked
She smiled
touched my lips
and said,
“red”

But she wore pink
with green jeans
and a purple bow
on her head

I stopped and stared
wondering at that
How beautiful
she would make
the colour red

I’m not one
to speak for death
for death
could speak for itself
I speak only for life
for life and wealth
is the breadth of breath
and the well
of heart and health

Heaven has a street called ‘Hope’
It leads from earth and is thin like rope
It’s a tight walk across earth to sky
Those who walk may fall but learn to fly

Heaven has a street called ‘Love’
It starts from here through to clouds above
It’s thinner than Hope but is stronger still
Those who walk may lose their way but not the will

Heaven has a street called ‘Faith’
This path is unknown but one can trace
both Hope and Love and where they intersect
They that walk may lose their life but not the respect

Here’s a poem
to all the girls
I’ve loved and hated
to the ones I did
and ones, I wish I dated
To the ones I’ve kissed
and the ones I’ve missed
yes, to all the little Misses
And it goes like this...

To little Miss Chievous
so young and free
But I got out quickly
before one could ask
“Wow! who’s she?”

To little Miss Stake
Yes, to the ones we make
the apologies and sorrys
and the patience it takes

To little Miss Understood
I never did and never could
So I decided I never would
even try

To little Miss Fit
Not the health kick kind
But the one who’s wit
I couldn’t match nor find

To the one Miss
I miss the most
though I love them all
It’s to her I toast
To my little Miss Guided
by whom I was love struck
and still remain
to this day
blinded and
stuck