Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I feel like,
By the time I'm finished preparing for my future
I'll be too old to remember
The things I enjoy.
I have this bad habit
When I wake up all
I can think about is
You.
Seattle

I came

I saw

I conquered

Well....

Not sure about that last one

Now a game of

Wait
And
See
This question comes
As unexpected as it was
that you would fall ever for me

But I'm still asking
Do you still love me?
Little Sally stood on a chair
and watched mom
wash the dishes
“Mom,” said little Sally
“Why do you have white hair?”

“Oh,” replied Mom, unthinking
“Every time you cause me trouble
a hair turns white”


And Sally replied, unthinking:
*“You must have caused grandma
a lot of trouble
All her hair is white”
poem based on a popular joke
~~

*Once, I was a hard sand stone
Neither had I made a tune nor a tone
I had broken after a strong shock wave
From a waterfall, I had fallen into a pothole but could not settle

After I was moving with a long stream as a rolling stone
Now I have no edge but only passing a phase
A few days ago, I discovered myself as a grain of sand
And day by day, I have been drowning beneath the ocean

~~

@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Reply to the dearest Poet Joe Cole's this week challenge:
this poem is based on life how it has become changed in course of time like a rolling stone to a grain.

~~
(Joe Cole's Challenge)

~~
Put on another record
Now let's lay together
You say it doesn't matter
Yet can't you hear the faint shatter?
Count back from ten
Please let's start again
I'm sick of this constricting quarantine,
baby can't you see?
You're my dopamine.
je pense bien à toi
(i think well of you)

Have not chatted in awhile,
me rutted in NYC,
a city of constant tear down
and sometimes flashy urban human
renewal...

While you,
you getting on with life,
growing up, growing down,
buying clothes for a new school season,
or growing children,
or boxing up now grandchildren memories of memories...
falling in love, writing poetry all about it...

You,
in Nepal, Malaysia, India,
Seattle, Portland, and the Florida's panhandle,
the US Midwest sainted hinterlands,
the South, that makes one love water,
water that has travelled from the faraway,
island continent of professorial Australia,
Did I forget the Philippines?

worse sin committed,
is that in
your poetry
I have not toe dipped,
quite the long erstwhile,
after loving it with
obsession devotion...

so just a Saturday afternoon
note penned just to you
and you alone...

je pense bien à toi
(i think well of you)

So by way of apology,
craft a poem for you exclusive,
more than each word, letter,
every syllable, tongue tasted
for conjuctivity,
breadth and thus discovered
notes of red soil, raspberry, lemon,
even a hint of sweet masquerading as a
salty kindness in our veins,
our unique vintage of connectivity

Your hand to my lips raised,
grasped twice, by mine both,
slow lifting with stature, affection and respect,
kiss it and whisper just enough for
we two to hear...

je pense bien à toi
(i think well of you)

even this seems weakly insufficient,
but care taken nowadays,
a new economy of words,
write less, think more, and
give up the truly deserved words only
as a mark of my fondness and respect

these come on no schedule,
often months in the making,
so forgive-me-not my unsweetened silences,
accept them with easy knowing that

je pense bien à toi
(i think well of you)

the summer man wintered in discontent,
his journey now disrupted by forces exogenous,
stealing his vision, jailing him in between
walls of indecision, knocking down
his own twin towers,
but carelessly not making provision
to tell you well and often enough

je pense bien à toi
(i think well of you)*

Sept. 13, 2014
Thank you SALLY for reminding me of this long ago poem 6/21/18
.
He doesn't love me like he says he does
He doesn't do what he did with her
With me

Where the affection? The love? The emotions?
He can't show anything to me.

But with her, it was different,
I watched from afar,
Their smiles were priceless,
They looked so in love
Meant to be

He would touch her and love her
Play with her like a child
And it seems with him and me right now
I can't even make him smile

But with her he was happy
Until she broke his heart

So with me, he is here,
Trying to mend his broken heart.

Filling a void that was empty
The second that she left
He is looking for someone to save him
But to him, she was the best.

I cannot sleep, I cannot breathe
Without thinking of them together
It breaks my heart, because I love him so,
I can't feel like this forever.

He tells me all the time
He's over her for good
But one day, I know, she'll come back around
And he'll fall for her once again,
And I'll be here broken on the ground.

Maybe I shouldn't worry,
Maybe he really does love me,
But I know a broken heart doesn't get fixed,
In his heart
She'll always be.
Next page