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 Sep 2015 Peanut
Liz And Lilacs
If I could breath fire,
I'd inhale,
And never let it go,
Just to feel alive again,
Just to feel like I was burning
with passion like I used to.
Her smile,
*******,
It's taking up to much of a file,
She always flips a coin,
And smiles when telling you,
That she found it in Spain,
And calls it her laws of nature,
Then joking refers to a yoyo she named her *** life,
She cuts words like samurai getting ahold of a dinner knife,
But speaks awkwardly everytime,
Tending to tenderness,
Who knows?
But that smile,
*******,
It's like a terrible heist movie,
With a plot line that has to do with monks,
And one actor is overpaid,
Knowing that at the end their still made,
What to do besides eat that popcorn and enjoy the show,
That smile though...
I feel like this one I'll edit...if I don't get lazy...
 Aug 2015 Peanut
Emily Dickinson
1005

Bind me—I still can sing—
Banish—my mandolin
Strikes true within—

Slay—and my Soul shall rise
Chanting to Paradise—
Still thine.
Heartsease in my garden bed,
  With sweetwilliam white and red,
Honeysuckle on my wall:--
  Heartsease blossoms in my heart
When sweet William comes to call,
  But it withers when we part,
And the honey-trumpets fall.
 Aug 2015 Peanut
tamia
You were the sun, I was a flower
I looked up to you to learn, you set me free to bud
You kept me warm through windy spring nights
You taught me to grow through golden leaves falling
After storms, you crept from behind the clouds to help me dry
When snow fell, I was buried beneath the ice and you brought me back again
But once the summer came, you blazed so bright I couldn’t see

The sweltering sun, my sweet sun
I took your light, your love, and I blossomed
Then I grew, only to realize you would always be far up there
I took too much and waited, wilted and grey in the end.
 Aug 2015 Peanut
SE Reimer
~

a gift as you say,
if such there be,
is only a gift
when given to thee
with no strings attached,
and truly is free.
yet...
mine come the hard way,
no, my poems aren't free,
for it is no gift
when the "talent" you see,
though the writ and the wit
flow with ease, admittedly;
no, my poems are cunning,
they act like they're free,
yet in truth they are cruel
for my poems own me!

~

*post script.

written in response to a friend's words, " you have a gift", to which i can only say, "ha!"  and to my fellow poets, you know who owns who; for if yours are like mine, they tumble around in phrases in the night, leaving you restless and wanting, til you rise and extract them onto paper, and ONLY then will they leave you alone!"

i think fellow poet Joe Cole has perfectly captured what i have wanted to articulate  in these words to me:  "The gift is in the mind, the use of words are the ability to gain the gift."  well said, my friend!
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