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 Jun 2017 Fleo Mae
amya s
boy i know that you love me
so whats the issue
baby i love too
ill make your dreams come true

were not running out of time
baby whats the issue
i just dont understand
you said we had a thing
boy were you lying
cause when i was asleep
i heard you confessing
all your feelings

are you just not a man
or is it that "friend"
that you thinks not a friend
i just dont understand
are you just not ready
i thought we were steady
i thought we were strong

is it me
or is it you
baby whats the issue
do i need to change
do we need a brake

cause im so afraid
i just dont want to lose you
are you setting me free
baby whats the issue
i think he's going to end. this is kind of  a song more then a poem . it can go both ways.
 Jun 2017 Fleo Mae
Bob B
A little after two A.M.
This morning forty-nine names were read--
The names of forty-nine victims who
Now are sleeping among the dead.

They lost their lives a year ago
When a gunman, ISIS-inspired,
Sneaked his weapon into a nightclub,
Held it up, and open-fired.

Those who survived the horrible shooting
At the gay club where the crime took place
Will constantly relive that nightmare.
It's hardly something that time can erase.

Fifty-three patrons were wounded that night,
Many of whom still are reeling
From the horror, and they still require
Physical and mental healing.

Think of the families and friends of the victims.
Think of the magnitude of their loss.
How do you measure the sadness when
Extremists and innocent lives crisscross?

People from all over the world
Were appalled by the killer's barbarity
And sent kind words of sympathy
As they joined together in solidarity.

However, from under a dark veil
Of hatred and hypocrisy,
Emerged some voices of hatred from those
Hell-bent on a theocracy.

Voices of fanaticism,
No matter the source, always destroy
The goodness that is meant to be
And stifle liberty and joy.

Today in Orlando and in other cities,
Forty-nine times the church bells will sound.
May we remember the innocent victims
And let love and compassion abound.

- by Bob B (6-12-17)
 Jun 2017 Fleo Mae
Cné
Evening has subsided with a whisper in the west.
It chased the sunset's final rays as she prepared for rest.

Night has dropped her curtain but the moon has come to play.
The overture begins, as lonely crickets have their way.

The breeze begins to soften and the grass is standing still.
The leaves no longer beckon in the trees upon the hill.

I huddle in the darkness and await the rising wind.
A prayer is formed upon my lips, in homage to a friend.

And there ... I feel the sweet caress, a hand upon my cheek
A breeze that comes from someone ... from the passing soul, I seek.

And as I watch the lingering stars and hear the rustling leaves
I know that she has left this world and heavenward, she weaves.

I bid farewell to one, who loved this life, and all it gave
I dedicate this poem to her and toward the moon, I wave.
...and her memory, I save
i went back and forth on the last line.
RIP Carrie
forever in my heart, sweet one
you shall remain young
 Jun 2017 Fleo Mae
Eric W
Drifting
 Jun 2017 Fleo Mae
Eric W
I thought my home was with you,
but you sat upon a raft
with a motor that had a large,
sharp propeller.
A boat, and a powerful one.
While I sat upon my island,
some would say stranded,
but I would say
found.
You visited, happened to
glance my way on your travels,
and I wanted you to dock,
to stay for a spell,
but I knew your engine
would have cut my rope,
so I hopped upon your craft,
hopped off,
and watched as you again
drifted away.

— The End —