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TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Chuck
Drink (Haiku)
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Chuck
Sensual rains dance
Down the curves of her mountains
Her valleys rejoice
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Chuck
Scent of Life
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Chuck
Nature's redolent perfumes
Awaken the puckish character within
I laugh and jest in a dalliance with breath
Knowing nature remains an aromatic
Reminder of the potential glamour
Of this life o' brevity
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Ugo
Skyscrapers and mango trees wearing boxer briefs.

The tantalizing wind blows caressing paperclips and mortuary signs—
turning them indigo red for we all know that dead bodies are nothing but dead.

Hymns of love and soliloquies of the unconscious ego—
Id of our time but men of the past be our hero.
Leaving to wonder, if king Nebuchadnezzar was a crack-feign
would Coca Cola still educate penguins on the importance of Lesbian Existence?

For in this war of life, cockroaches are the real winners,
and the taste of excellence is only reserved for fire extinguishers —

so if nuclear clouds persist,
let the fire burn with love and you lay on the bed of oblivion
cuddling the moral that capitalism leads to schizophrenia.

So insure your sanity for free 99, this, with warm regards from yours truly,

                                                               ­              Rhizome of Golgotha.
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Tessa F
A girl who will wait
Is a girl in love.
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Madison
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special…
You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel…
I like you.
You get all those feelings…
Those butterflies you can’t stomach,
That heart rate you can’t put at ease,
So baby …
Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled
Darling with the endless amount of love…
your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees,
but could your love belong to me someday?
Be given to me?
Can you feel the way I do for you?
& Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here
Lover, who writes me poems,
You should know I write you too.
I write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And baby, you're one of them.
And boy who played me a song,
Sweet sounds bow down to my ears,
And the way you play your guitar…
& the way I daydream about kissing your lips...
I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth
send electric shocks through my body
Cutie… with the funny jokes,
You make me laugh.
Today you made me laugh,
like you always do,
you’re the only one who can now a days.
Baby, with those sparkling eyes,
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I can’t have you now
because you ruined it
It hurts to think about it,
So I have to block you out.
Play your songs to someone else,
Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else,
And go find… someone else.
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Nikki Longmuir
When you smile, I see love
I feel it when you move your chest.
Up and down, it entrances my own breathing.
Sends me into a world of bursting passion.

I remember the exact tone of your voice,
When you say my name every morning.
And I remember your coffee.
Red cup, two sips every 7 ½ minutes.
Sometimes I envision being that coffee,
I imagine sliding down your throat,
Soothing your organs until your sweet blood
Carries me to warm your heart.

When you laugh I see a city made of gold,
Or a patch of sunlight sneaking through closed blinds.
One day maybe we can take it to the next level.
One day, when you are no longer grading my papers
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
sanguine-souls
Poems
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
sanguine-souls
Poems aren't always written
With a paper an pencil
They aren't always typed
In ink and with a signature
Sometimes poems are written
With the lips of a teary-eyed lover
Or the laughter of a young hospital patient
Or even the silence of two comfortable friends
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Brynn Aster
Complete
 Jul 2013 Ceryn
Brynn Aster
Looking at him stare at his notebook
Wishing I could be the pencil he grips tightly
As he writes down complex formulas for life
That I could help him solve

If he only gave me the chance.
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