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 Sep 2015 Allyson Walsh
Rapunzoll
Innocence is the days when
I thought that monsters
lived under the bed rather
than slept right beside me.

It was the times I feared
heights almost as much as
I now fear brooding stares.

Back when I thought
passionate love was the
only kind worth having
— that I now wish for a
lover who loves quietly.

Innocence was thinking
danger was an ill-advised
adventure, not a man.

It was admiring a tornado
heart and not realizing the
damage it would cause.
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the words which nourish my fainting heart
'tis so sweet the rhythm of your voice
faring up and down
drifting with me on good days

catching me on the way down,
down, down - I sink into
the words which nourish my fainting heart
'tis so sweet the rhythm of your voice

I close my eyes and feel
your breath on my cheek
as I turn to discount your sincerity
you reach for me, with
the words which nourish my fainting heart
it hurt
looking at him hurt
it's like everyone around us
was living in fast forward
and we were living in this brilliant moment of clarity
where we were like
'this is it,
this is our life'
looking at everyone else around us rushing around like ants
but still it hurt
because life found our happiness and squeezed it dry
it found the beauty of us and murdered it
slowly
delectably
painstakingly
thoroughly
life murdered **us
 Aug 2015 Allyson Walsh
Jasmin
I don't know what is worse:
Happy moments that can't be experienced again, or
The tragic memories we can't forget.
 Aug 2015 Allyson Walsh
Ghazal
Our fingertips touch and the world
Comes to a standstill-

Still as all of nature at dusk,
Silent as the moonlight on a starless night,
Heavy as the gurgling clouds just before it rains,
Blinding as the sun in all its glory and light

Our fingers begin a rhythmic dance,
As if playing the piano, rendering a favorite song,
Knowing the pace, the moves by heart,
Not faltering once, not going wrong,

Then twined together, we blissfully lay,
Content, peaceful, complete.
The moment of oneness cupped between our hands
preserved for all of eternity.
 Aug 2015 Allyson Walsh
SE Reimer
~

where clear blue sky meets water's deep
his sunbeams reach her waves to tease,
to warm her currents, foaming spray;
dawn to dusk when daylight fades,
till only afterglow remains,
an interlude of celestial stage.

he speaks to her on written sky
and in the mournful sea-bird's cry,
wraps sultry ribbons in her tresses,
his fingers linger in caresses,
and in soothing choreography
he gently stirs her ocean's breeze.

he sends her gifts of palm and dates,
wrapped on waves in salty sprays;
watches her with much delight,
he sings to her each eventide,
love songs with the calling gull,
and rocks her tween the gusts and lulls.

wedded at horizon’s edge,
devotion to her he has pledged,
to have forever and to hold,
his comfort to her storm-tossed soul;
his tender kiss on tear-stained cheek,
where clear blue sky meets water's deep.

~

post script.

when one gazes
into the vastness
of sea and sky,
of what is from
height to depth
an endless blue,
one cannot but think
of eternal devotion,
of the relationship
between two who have
pledged their forever troth!


as i wonder from what recesses
this one came, i remember…
our 36th wedding anniversary
is fast approaching...
i’ve been thinking of what to gift her
that will make her cry anew.


**thank you to Hello Poetry for
the tremendous honor bestowed
with their designation of this poem as the daily
and to all who have expressed their heartfelt
love and appreciation... your message
came through loud and clear...
there can be no denying it,
i am an incredibly blessed man
because of each of you!  
thank you, truly,
from the bottom of my heart!
 Aug 2015 Allyson Walsh
Rapunzoll
Kiss me where it hurts,
taste the indefinite, there
is something beautiful
in the moments that will
fade without warning.

I've been missing the part
of you that craves only me,
I'm a finely wrapped gift on
your door  — unravel me,
unravel me
, I'll buy you more.

You desire the mystery,
feeding the elusive hand
that beckons you — there
are layers to my story but
you only skim the surface.

My ego is a divine thing,
you dress it well, embellish
it with swift strokes, and
pause with fascination.

There are a million ways
to tell me I look good in red
— but I like your way best.
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