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 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Traveler
It doesn't matter
What you do
Some dogs
Are prone
To sing the blues
Drearily howling
Slobbery drools
*** sniffing
Hairy and smelly too
Yet somehow
They keep their cool
After all
What's a dog to do?

Woofin at the neighbors
Chasing down the squirrels
Peeing on the lawn gnomes
Looking for referrals
Chowing down on kibble bits
Hey, it's just a doggy gig
Playing Frisbee in the yard
And catch, with sticks, not twigs
I wish that I could have his life
The fun would never end
'Cept for that part with knives
No *****, to call my friends
..............................................
Stick Man and the Clock Eyed Skull
BY
TT
&
TP
No need to say for our circle of HP friends
But ya I wrote the first stanza!
I've never been good at
Being touched.

Though the fingers
Of endless suitors
Have traced incomparable
Lines of affection,
They all stroke
The same wounds.

New hands feel like
Recycled lullabies,
Humming promises
Of a new melody,
Singing a remedy for
My impassivity.

Whether words fall
Passionate or
Fearful,
Endearment lines my lips
With an expiration
Long enough to convince me,
But short enough to leave me.

Reminding me:
The disintegration of
Indifference
Remains
My prerequisite
For destruction.

So before you
Touch me with
Promises of a new
Orchestration,
I'm already marking the
Days until you leave.

Because my skin
Is tired of
Intruders hidden
Behind momentary
Infatuation.

So keep your hands to yourself.
 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Àŧùl
The Thames river froze that year,
Ênglish sheep husbandry I tell ya,
The Thirty Years' War continued,
Epic losses to sheep & men alike.

À cataclysmic year for many.

Testing year for **** sapiens,
Ênchanted were the scavengers,
True bounty for dogs & vultures,
Europe almost killed its cultures.
A tête à tête with history.

But human beings are hardy organisms.
They have always recovered from worse.
Most English sheep succumbed to winter that year.

Out of a flock of 20,000 sheep only 35 were left in England that year.

The 30 Years' War (1618 to 1648) that had killed 8 million people overall, had killed many people due to their injuries and the merciless cold.

A retrospective poem reminding the ability of humanity to preserve all life.

The English people had regained much of their sheep flock soon in the 5 years that followed.

My HP Poem #1620
©Atul Kaushal
 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Semihten5
she looked in the water
like Narcissus
the larbe error
... are like seeds.

They are meant to be scattered!


[10W]
SøułSurvivør
7/11/2017
Inspired be Oh Henry cried she

My thoughts are best scattered anyway...

I MUST go to bed! G'night all!
 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Traveler
WEIGHT
 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Traveler
It's the little things
I keep pushing aside
Under the rug
Of forgetful mind
Piles of concerns
Weighing me down
As if my voice
Has no sound

Paralyzed in free fall
My spirit descends
Into the abyss
Pulling me in
All of these small things
Now weigh a ton
Let it all go
And I will have won
''''
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2017 Gidgette
Melissa S
Some days I want to be a wild horse
or a gypsy wild and free
Don't put any fence around me
Who would want to tame this
Heart of wild
I just want to be somewhere
Anywhere just not confined

Other days I want to build a house
Build me a home
Build my life around my kids and spouse
Sometimes I can follow the direction of the reins
Even if they do feel like chains
I want to give my all
I am just so scared to answer the call

It seems I want to have my cake
and to eat it too
Its like I have double lives  ~ What am I to do
I want my freedom and I want his time
Cannot divulge all the darkness in my mind
There is beauty in imperfection
and order in the unruliness
I am a walking contradiction
Yes I'm somewhat of a mess
Words rhythm and movement are what I live for
and I can sometimes give up the control
I do what feels right to me
Cause there's a gypsy living in my soul
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