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 Feb 2013
Kelly Selvester
In the depths of this despair,
Comes a glimmer of shinning hope,
As memories floor that emptiness,
And feelings gather, hard to cope.
The cold hardness softens,
And love bubbles gently afloat,
As ticking clocks start to stop,
Through years of lost notes.
"A cheeky little smile",
That's what you wrote,
As we sat there apart,
Easily your best quote.
But those days have gone,
All seem so now remote,
As I say goodbye to those memories,
A lump in my throat.
 Nov 2012
Kelly Selvester
I cannot help but wonder,
why am i here?
To do this task a million times,
for god knows how many years!
I cannot help but wonder,
as i sit and think aloud.
Why on earth did i join up,
to be abused and cursed in a muddled crowd.
I cannot help but wonder,
why do you abuse me so?
When all i do, is do as you ask,
yet you make me stoop so low.
And now i sit here and wonder, and no longer wonder aloud,
And watch my thoughts turn to stone, as i disappear into the crowd.
 Nov 2012
Kelly Selvester
one final push was all it took,
to turn that twisted key,
that unlocks the hole that i now jump into,
bottomless to eternity
 Sep 2010
Victoria Erausquin
Where has the time gone?

When did I see you last?

From it all you have withdrawn

Become a part of the past

And though I long for your embrace

I don’t know where to start

Because every time I see your face

It only breaks my heart
I wrote this about I friend of mine I care about deeply, but she's got a lot of things going on in her life that she hides from me.
 Sep 2010
Victoria Erausquin
Stop saying what you say
Stop doing what you do
Stop hurting yourself
Because you're hurting me too
I wrote this.
 Sep 2010
D Conors
My new policy
on critics and trolls
is that from here on in,
they shall be kicked in the *****.


With steel-tipped boots.

Repeatedly, if need be...
D. Conors
08 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
No need to say a word,
it's morning in the country,
leave the chirping for the birds.

Lay your precious head,
against my caring arm,
be silent now instead,
let me keep you safe from harm.

Each day I get to hear you,
speaking merrily to me,
I treasure all you say and do,
that lends a tender mystery.

So, take your words and tuck them,
deep inside your caring heart,
your eyes say everything they can,
and that's a wonderful way to start.
D. Conors
08 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
...sitting here
across from me again
(in my mind's wishful eye),
sipping coffee together,
light talk, some danish,
and an omelette, too
(i made it the way you like it,
just for you),
happy to be here
as the flaming
sunstreak rise lights up
the tender tips of the flowers
outside the window,
i fingertip-kiss your lips,
as the morning bird
breaks into song,
waking up the world,
whilst you and i
carry on
and your eyes
reflect the new day's skies,
it's nice, it's nice
to see you...
D. Conors
07 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
I spy,
the morning mist, outside
the window that is not mine,
rising from the river,
sunshine tries to sneak through a sliver,
I, with thoughts only
here and now
for thee,
my new and gentle mystery,
who came to me on a silver stream,
made subject for my pen,
my dreams,
and this misty morning,
where I wish to be,
across from you
smiling back at me.
D. Conors
06 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
today you took me by surprise,
bright smile, dancing eyes,
loosened the noose on yet another lonely day,
wherein the depths of these shadows I do lay,
again, you came a-light,
golden skin, heart a-flight,
taking the time to share some of your life with me,
the very essence of your softly sweet vitality,
beauty, you breathe the skies,
today you took me by surprise
D. Conors
September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
Is this not what it's all about?
Waiting in the wings,
stretching, turning, churning,
anxious and adrenal,
living for the dream,
wishing for the dream,
the dream,
dancing on beams,
beneath the streams
of lights and fans,
arrayed like a bird
in tulle, crinoline, silk, satin and linen
white plumage,
acting only on command,
the music soft and flowing
their frail, slender figures
take to air,
arms and legs,
torsos tender,
slender necks,
wisps of downy hair,
melding colours,
sights and sounds,
the stage a pedestal of fate,
their beauty
in gilded cages
for all to watch and see,
recaptured yet again,
by the artist on the easel'd window
of his canvas,
a maestro of sorts,
tapping his baton-brush,
coating the blankness with sweet
like angels heavenly
brought to earth,
serenaded by strings,
life from the blankness begins,
covers the void,
bejewels the mind's eye
and beckons the ballet
rehearsal to begin,
yet shall in oil paint now
and for all time
never cease to be...

"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."
Edgar Degas

Inspired by the painting by Impressionist artist Edgar Degas,
The Rehearsal.
--to view the painting:
D. Conors
03 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
the hardest part about
writing a poem about you
is that the words tend to
get into the way
of what i really want to
say to
D. Conors
03 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
"Cash, Grass or ***-No One Rides Free!"*
reads the bumper-sticker slapped on the ratty Harley.
Its black leather seat is cracked, tattered and torn,
the headlight is busted and there's no friggin' horn;
with mismatched saddlebags strapped to each side,
the panhead leaks like a sieve, but it's still quite a ride.

The gas-tank is dented, scratched and coated with muck,
the chrome no longer shines, but who gives a flyin' ****?
Its tires are bald, the spokes are all rusted to ****,
and the frame is off-kilter from a cage-driver'*****.

The biker just puffed the last hit from his pipe,
slammed down the rest of the J.D. from the bash last night;
then he hops on his hog, kicks the monster to start,
the muffler-pipes blast flames and roar like a ****.

Together they roll down the road like old pals,'
with nowhere to go, just obnoxious and loud:
the tombstone tail-light flashes bright red on this mess,
'though Cashless, Grassless and Assless, they couldn't care less!
D. Conors
30 August 2010
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