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 May 2014 Charles Casanova
brooke
Underneath is a sea
Swimming with self doubt is a sure way to drown
Somewhere I can see the surface
Yet I can't escape the anchors of silence and apprehension
My ties are strong enough to break free
If I let them
But then I'd have to tell you
Every time I see you
I'm frozen like the waters I'm battling against
I can't seem to make waves big enough to overwhelm you
I'm stuck in the dark where you can't see me
And I'm lost at sea where you can't find me
My moon can't gravitate your tides
Even though I've yearned to change you
I don't have the power of the current just yet
I fear my message in a bottle won't get to you in time
because my oceans won't allow it
because you're beautiful
and terrifying
and I don't know how to keep you afloat
because I'm already drowning myself
(I don't want to drag you down with me)
(but I want you here with me)
My voyage will continue for quite some time
And though I can see your bright shore
from the deep below
My arms can't propel me anywhere
Unless I know for certain
They're reaching for you
 May 2014 Charles Casanova
Kiara
I take my lover's eyes with me
Wherever I go
I look at them a thousand times a day
Two dark jewels
Blazing beneath a desert sky.

I take my lover's eyes with me
Wherever I go
I look at them a thousand times a day
And held within
Is a memory of our last embrace.

I take my lover's eyes with me
Wherever I go
I look at them a thousand times a day
And they speak to me
In a tongue only two people know.

I take my lover's eyes with me
Wherever I go
I look at them a thousand times a day
Each time I smile,
I’m sure I see her
And she sees me.

And for a thousand times a day
I kiss those eyes
Return them to their home,
A locket
Next to my heart.
bending time, sleight of hand.
give to me, give to me
one more hour.
pulling quarters from the thin air,
give to me one more day.
farce of having time to say
the angry things.
the loving things.
holding you in a cup, drink you up and
i am small.
holding onto you in my pocket,
take you out and blow off the dust.
before you go, before you go.
i selfishly need to finish us.
before you leave, before you journey
i am not done with loving you.
put you on spoon and dip you in the sugar bowl,
sweet on my tongue, i can love you sweet.
i haven't finished being mad,
i haven't finished needing you. just a child am i again,
im not the selfish one,
who's leaving who here, after all?
before you leave, before you leave,
ill put you on music note, treble clef
and pull you out with a whistle.
im not done, i am not done.
loving you in my skewed way.
so goodbye is it, after all?
the rabbits pulled from the deep black hat.
and i put you in a  boat to sea
winken blinken and nod  care for your soul.
ill put you on a chinese lantern
and let you go. ill let you go.

sahn 5/18/2014
thank you for sharing this with me. this is to honor my grandmother, Myrtle Georgia Mae.
Myrtle Georgia Mae Flaherty-Hamilton 7-13-1917 -- 5-25-2014
lost in the garden
of beautiful flowers
rising to meet the dawn chorus

the tides of reason
and synchronised breathing
devoid of reason
no need for meaning

senses linger
the emotions are porous
like monsoon raindrops
clad in storm cloud towers

she mirrors in reflections
of her milky white skin
and the amorous eyes
and Loki's broad grin

lead the Viking
to the valley of shadow
the heaving breast
of the raven haired siren
sheathed in wanton desires
the beckoning of lust
and the follies of jest
the arcane pleasures of sin
pressed ****** to ******
upon his battle torn chest

leaves little to the imagination
the ravages of the beast within
graced with the fingertips
of a females caress
lest it not be forgotten
amid the gamut of time
and the crimson red lips
dripping with the juices
of the ***** of her King.
a poem inspired by sensation, sexuality and lust
Life constantly pulls me along,
flowing like a never-ending tide.
Struggling is futile, as the current is strong.
I might as well stay for the ride.
My heart,
a mansion made of straw:
Complex and
beautiful
but lit ablaze
by a single spark.
Intricate and
intimate
but bound to
collapse.
Spacious and
accommodating
but thin-walled,
colder in the nights.
Furnished and
ready for use
but over-staged,
exaggerated potential.

Do me a favor:
tear down the walls
burn it all, scatter ashes
that I may be an empty lot
to be renovated by an Architect.
I feel I fall in love too easily. Mind you, I'm picky beyond belief, but I think I'm just a hopeless romantic.
 May 2014 Charles Casanova
Jack
~

A few minutes more


“A few minutes more?”
he has asked in a whisper
Promising hope
from the depths of his heart

Pulling the thread
so it sits ever tighter
Finding the end
as a new place to start

Counting the hours,
for they add up so many
Checking his watch
as the sun seems to set

Pulling the moon
from the arms that now hold it
Praying for rain,
as that’s all he can get

Kicking a stone
near the sand quickly leaking
Rhythms his mind,
will now come soon to play

Searching for words,
while the second hand passes
What he expects
at the end of the day

Life is so short,
though he brings up the answer,
“Nothing is more
than a heart lost of love”

Calling to all,
as if anyone listens,
“A few minutes more?”
he now shouts up above
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