Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jun 2015 Deborah Brooks Langford
ryn
Under the grieving moon
we whispered secrets long kept.
Beneath the roaring waves
that drowned us as...
we quietly wept.

We spoke in hushed tones
of promises made to last.
Our cracked voices
melded with the echoes of a time...
of a fond memory in the past.

Water in our mouths
with words we jousted and lunged.
Heard only as hapless gurgles
and inaudible whimpers.
Unparried speculations
unsheathed and then plunged.

We cupped our wounds and retreated
knowing that we each drew blood.
We kissed with our eyes,
broke down walls
and welcomed the flood.

We wiped our cheeks
now smeared hot with tears.
Where did we err?
Who do we blame...
for dishevelled years?

We would never know...
but we must learn.
Time had shown us our mistakes
but our hearts had taught us
eternal love that burns.
If you want to get some reads
Include Deborah in your write
Poets will be stopping in
Like the dropping in of flies
The place will be all abuzz
With the clicking of the likes
If you want to get some reads
Include Deborah in your write

If your wanting to be known
Throw Deborah into the poem
Doesn't much matter what you say
It'll still have it going on
Whether you feel that this is right
Or know that it is wrong
If your wanting to be known
Throw Deborah into the poem

Sir, have you no shame
In the use of Deborah's name
This is supposed to be serious poetry
Not some popularity game
So think about this truthfully
As I ask you once again
Sir, have you no shame
In the use of Deborah's name

Mmmmmmm......not really.
After all the reads I received from my
"I Miss Deborah" poem and still am. I figure I'm going to ride this gravy train all the way to the top! Woo!!! Woo!!!
Thanks Deborah! All aboard!
She -- the girl who I think;
was once upon a time--
in another lifetime;
a part of me

a piece
of my soul
ripped from myself
from a long ago death--

to be found
only to make me understand
that chaos and beauty
could co-exist;

that souls--
no matter how different;
will always find a way
to recognize each other.

Oh and how beautiful and sad
to know that we--
are made out of
broken things that heal us~
This poem--a piece of me;
is for her--a lost and found piece of me~
Next page