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Someone* my body does need
Simply to touch, hold and to kiss
So here's what I'm thinking
Love me now, before my mind is mist

Someone my poetry does need
Simply to spell, write and to rhyme
So here's what I'm thinking
Love me now, before my pen runs dry

Someone my heart does need
Simply to love, respect and to cherish
So here's what I'm thinking
Love me now, before my soul does perish
Session 1
Greet people you meet;
smile and give 'em a Presidential wave




Session 2
Facilitator:
What  happened to you
Participant Jones?
Would you care to tell everyone?


Participant Jones:
This man at the mall
stepped up to me and punched me
Cause, he said, I was smiling at his woman


Facilitator:
Be undeterred, O participant Jones
Be persistent - practise positive behaviour


Session 3
Facilitator:
What's with that bandage on your head
O participant Jones?
Would you care to tell everyone?


Participant Jones:
That's where my wife's ladle landed
O positive Facilitator -
for my wife thinks I'm trying to get fresh
with the women in the neighbourhood
with my exuberant smiles and hand waves


Facilitator:
Have no regrets, practise in earnest;
the broad smile wins all hearts



Session  4**
Participant Jones did not attend;
has not been heard from since Session 3
the last time
my long-suffering
paranoid wife
went to the dentist
she sat obediently
and when she could,
she grabbed what she could

and the dentist, always used to a
position of power, said with calm and dignity:
"Excuse me lady, you got me by my *****;
perhaps you want to take your hands off?"


"Well," said my fearful wife,
the timid victim
*"If  we all handle things easy
ain't nobody gonna hurt, okay"
How do I get over the past,
when it was supposed to be my future you and I were meant to last
So don't ask me for my heart back when you've thrown it in my face.
cleansed of your fingerprints, you didn't even leave a trace.
It's frustrating.
how trusting I am of your loving hands
that caressed someone else.
I'm just stressed, Can not stop thinking
Thinking about her lips on your lips
instead of my name.
I'd give anything now
for things to be the same
as they were
And there's really no cure
for love.
It's a miserable thing
no matter how lovable how kissable
I need to be closer
A tattoo on your skin
But even as ink I'd never soak in
deep enough.
Its a miserable thing, this thing we call love.
You don't have to believe in us
because
I know it's unlikely
The fact you even think of me is striking.
Just tell me you're willing to try
You're killing me,
I cry and I cry
How in the world do you sit there dry eyed

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Nothing tastes quite like a
Freshly stolen apple from
Outside a very expensive house

After someone you're in love
With has just laughed into
The first bite of it,

Hands it to you
And whispers
*Thanks. Thief.
So you say poems don’t sell
ain’t no buyer for your works
arduous hours of a job done well
go down the drain fetch no perks!

You’re right poems do don’t sell
though you fill them with heart’s spice
by the hour growing weary and frail
you surely can’t feel any nice!

A dollar a poem how fine it would be
add a dollar a read to it
but poems are meant to be sold just free
you aren’t to be paid for the feat!

But you’re wrong poems do sell
them the readers do buy
when to their heart your thoughts travel
and their spirit soars up sky high!
 Oct 2014 Ishshita Chanda
Urmila
It was the night of the crimson moon,
Maybe that explains,
The stir in the sea of emotions,
A wave of fear,
Then one of courage,
A wave of love,
Then one of indifference,
Crashing on the shore of the heart,
Logic threw boulders,
To avoid another crash,
But the waves, stronger,
Strengthened by the moon,
Overcame,
Submerged
50%* Love
                  40% Pain
                                 4% Jealousy

                              3% Hate

                          2% What The Actual ****?

                       1% Rhymes

                100% REAL
Agreed?  Opinions? Suggestions? Tell me...
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