My Cupid's absence saw another bloom,
Scene reviews of praise, richly gathered.
Defer your attribute with golden plume,
And dearest phrase is by all wit shatter'd.
I think nice aims while his aim reassures,
And like untutored youths we pipe Amen!
To ev'ry hymn. The ardor needs be yours
In shiny form of fine discriminating pen.
Hearing you praised, I say it is very true,
To your praise I would add much more:
But do so in my head, as thou loves you,
Such it is, final, for he holds rank before.
Then others for sake of words give relief,
My silent thoughts do still speak to grief.

A woman asked me today which brand of underwear I wear. I told her Members Only.

I speak to thee, and thee is her; and she is thee,
And to whom I refer.
Could she be as much into me as
I am into her?

And if so, then this plea from me
With woeful tear, will not
Go too long unanswered here,

For her silence hurts
But is rare.

So far away!      Yet so near!

But I wish you were
Nearer, Dear!

Because each dominion
On such occasion
Must unwind, so as to be
Reborn in the morning shine,

Returning as glorious and as
Fresh as the new day sky;

And thereupon shouldst carry on
Without imperfect moan
Or sigh.

I plead with thee to manumit
Your tightened clasp that
Binds.

Rest your weary head a bit
On mine;
And ease into pleasant
Reveries.

After all, the dusk has come
To give rest to thee;

And I am yours
And yours am I

            -I am Restlful Sleep.

Noone really understood why (Duba ya)
Heard from the upset waitress...Geesh!
Until his advisor told him quietly,  Uh,
Mr. President, it's pronounced Quiche.

My heart has been made harder,
that ***** of mine which I had to barter,
that part of me that at a time had been an
inviolable origin of gentle utterance,
reflecting bright moving points of light divine,
and made of true substance.

But in ev'ry sense I am one who has become most poor.
Without a home, without a cent, alive in Him, yet dead to her.

2 parents have 3 daughters. Each sister has 1 brother. So, how many sons do the 2 parents of the 3 daughters have?

The
      glorious
                     Autumn
             once
brought
              
                      to you

feelings of bliss,
                                     from the September equinox

to the December solstice.

                                     That was before your growing battalion,
                                                                   when enemies so valiant
                                  scorched the earth
                                                   and your sovereign waters lay drained,    
desiccated into little worth.


Thereof shadow soldiers
                                          still conformed
                                                                     to forest floors in
                                          a trampling train,
hiking, sleeping in the cold and rain,
                                    each with bated breath,
while the stone-dead wept;
                          their wings lifting them
                             silently from the locus of their death.

Do you now remember
                                                        your first risk taken
                upon a path
  newly splashed
                                       with a subdued
                                                                                 but steady light,
that threw it's rays across your world
                                                          in the pale dim night?
                          
                                                    You could get that feeling,
that appreciation for ev'ry moment back,
                                    
                                                                            and still survive any
                                                             attack;
just hold steadfastly in your might
                       and be ready to live under a pact of peace,
                                                                                         or to turn and
                                              
                                                         FIGHT!

What situation can make a doctor get in a rush even though it would seem to grant them a virtue?

Put God first, and everything else will fall into place!

Have you such scope within
To devour entire so the thing
That a poet would so petition
You by night or day go listen?

If but one thing such a mind  
May ask of thee much in rhyme,
Be it sweet or sour, yet no crime,
Is to upon an hour beg a bit o time.

Fools rush in where the wise fear to go.
But the wise have never loved n e 1 so
-Due that fear-  how are they to know?

((((((                           ))))))                    
        -   -                         -       -                            
       (•)  (•)                    ­(• )     ( •)        
                                                                ­                      
              >                               >
            O                                   O

What separates us? Is it merely distance? Or is it something more? I am thus. You are such. I wear on my heart no sequins, it is on my sleeve worn... sweet & sore.

It makes much more sense now.
Please read Powerful Are Words