"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be.*" - Wuthering Heights.

beauty, is in love's eyes,
i once read that if he still makes your heart
anchor itself to your abdomen,
after three months, it's love.

well, my metaphors are wasted on you,
my words are a fancy way of
expressing myself and they contain
too much of you.

you've got a temper,
enough to rumble under these streets,
and collapse what i've been building.

i get sick of building blocks,
love is child's play, and i just want
us to be adults.

i promised to love you, and i do in
my own odd ways,
you broke my heart, i broke yours.
i still want you to know,
a mosaic wouldn't be so beautiful,
without all the cracks.

Inside my heart
nothing else there but stars
glassy broken pieces it beats in shards,
inside I fear it's growing hard,

Ever-knowing,
& ever-growing
as the light inside is ever-glowing,

I continue to turn into diamonds,
every day I wait for the night
ever-pining
the ever-shining,

in your brilliant,
distant,
waxing & waning
Moon.

Cherie Nolan© 2016

A poem can be a statement,
A poem can be a song.
It can be a piece of music,
Playing all night long.

First we have to go up,
Then we must go down.
Then we have to go all around
To find this ****** town.

Poetry is music,
Singing us a song.
Any way you choose it,
Bing, bang, ****.

Assonant sounds assemble,
Alliteration lilts our lyres.
Raps and rhymes are pulsing,
Kindling all those fires.

An orchestra is playing
On this very page.
Letters and words are strumming:
It’s a Golden Age.

Choirs of Angels Singing,
Guitars with a twang.
Ear that piano playing,
This may or may not scan.

If a pawn’s the soul of chess,
As Philidor did say,
Then letters and the sounds they show
Are what brighten the poet’s day.

So get those letters running,
All along the page.
Those sounds are our chess pieces,
Ready to engage.

Paul Butters

​
        he is the ocean waves
    and i am the stars
               we hold one another’s gaze each night
         until the morning light comes
     and we break

I wonder what language I hear when i let my heart speaks!
When I let my heart speaks, i question him!

I question him for a language that is not heard around!

Should I question my Heart or those Hearts around me!
Should I mind those Hearts... Or witness them away from me!
Should I care or ignore!

No doubt...

My Heart's Language worth to Listen to and speak it out!

It is A Language of a Living Heart!

I'm Inviting you...! Hope to hear your Heart's Language soon!

When winds at night on windows roar
wax runs out dies candle's flame
you would hear a knock upon door
a familiar voice calling your name.

Don't respond nor open the eyes
the voice is keen over winds' howl
grows it louder its pitches rise
scaring even the brave barn owl.

Pull the blanket up your head
you are safe so long you hide
lie dead quiet not move on bed
with mom asleep by your side.

Between the pause your fears mount
if is a chance to be found out
one two three the calls you count
but count it right leave no doubt.

Three times the voice would call your name
for it has no power to do any more
but move onto where dies a candle's flame
and a child is awake behind closed door.