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The first time I wrote poetry
I presented it to my father
He laughed and said to me
"must you be in love?
only those in love write this--"
A 10yr old girl cried that night,
Humiliated.

But it was true. Now that I look at it.
That of being in love.
Because I fell in love with written words
Hopefully someone reads this
And falls in love as well.
 Aug 2015 Rustine Gescheidle
prc
the most saddest people have the brightest smiles
the most shyest people have the loudest minds
the most happiest people have the saddest sobs
The wait here is breaking my bones,
I'm always searching for love or I'm searching for home.
No matter how hard that I seem to try,
I wind up just standing in line.
This whiskey will **** me no doubt,
but it's better than tasting your name in my mouth.
I can run, I can hide, I can waste all my time,
but you always wind up on my mind.
The good ones keep walking away,
while the worst ones come through and keep trying to stay.
I'm always asking the world to send me a sign,
but it seems all my hopes are declined.
I've learned on my own I can stand,
that won't ever stop me from grasping for hands.
At the end of the day I'll seek and I'll strive
for a woman who's strong, true and kind.
paint me with all those messy colors and broken brushes.
paint me with your rough hands and scrappy fingertips.
paint me with all your love and your regrets.
paint me in a dark room with uneven breath.
paint me with dried out lips and the tip of your tongue
paint me all night till you're halted by the sun.
I've always been one for the dimly-lit halls,
The mysterious passages and the potential falls.
I'm not about the risk, though; it's not about the danger.
It's the hope that in the depths I might come upon a stranger.
A stranger with an eye that's seen something I have not;
A stranger with a hand that holds something I haven't got;
A stranger with a rope that will show a new knot.
It's about finding a stranger who can teach me a lot.

I've always been one to seek the lesser known,
To look within the shadows where no light has shown.
I'm not about the darkness; I'm not hoping to get lost,
I'm just hoping for a stranger who will be worth the cost.
A stranger with a pair of lips that tell me unknown tales;
A stranger who's succeeded where many others failed;
A stranger who has navigated all the unknown trails.
It's about finding a stranger who puts the wind in my sails.

My tendencies have earned me a great deal of concern.
I'm told that, should I stray too far, it's unlikely I'll return.
They tell me that my obsession is a danger in disguise--
that seeking out the unknown can lead to one's demise--
But they can't see something new with their old-fashioned eyes,
So while they look down at their feet I'll keep my gaze upon the skies.

What they do not understand and what drives me to my doom,
Is that one should never find themselves the smartest in a room.
One cannot learn all there is; a life can be bettered or it will worsen.
So getting lost isn't so bad if you get lost with the right person.
A good friend of mine inadvertently inspired this with the line that became the title. Based on that (and the desire to prove to them that poetry can stem from any source) I rolled with it.

Hope you enjoy ^_^
I'm sorry
Its just that you feel like heaven to touch
I can't help myself
I want to feel your lovely skin forever
You smell so good
Those beautiful lips
I just needed a taste.
Out of the window
a courtyard yawns,
Passion flowers overwhelm
sun-brushed brick

A cat paws a
gutted cassette tape,
whilst pigeons
steal into the
forgotten yard building,
with newspaper windows
and wonky slates

I guess they own
the vestiges of the old
car in there now;
rust on rust on rust
Their own kingdom
in old boxes and older dust.

They aren’t aware,
of the lunacy of it all;
this human race.
People are just
no good to
each other.
Money before morals
before health
before warmth
before kindness
before love
before life.

I envy them,
those
birds-
they only
Have
to worry about
the
   cat.
Oast Cottage, Lamberhurst, Kent
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