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i love me like this,
with the night in my eyes
and the cinnamon moon
that sits atop my nose.
i love me like this,
with my wild and untamable curls,
who only listen to the wind.
i love me like this,
with my skin that matches
the café con leche i love to drink.
i love me like this,
with my poetry and without her;
with the words i feel
and the words i’ve kept to myself.
i love me like this,
light and free;
because this is who i am,
this is who i was made to be.
 Sep 2016 Joel M Frye
Ma Cherie
Autumn comes in like a thief
loitering 'till the
Last Summer Wind
comes
Fall has begun
loading a full metal jacket
encased, guilded
in cupronickel & lead

eager to break the will of lively
verdant vistas down
returning their beautiful souls
and gentle spirits
back to hallowed ground
drifting, floating...
quoting, noting
poetic words
unheard
trying to veer, deviate for  
shared moments...
off without a sound.

Landing over paths
blowing into heaps
swept by wild winds
from  angelic wings
drying, dying
I hear them sighing

Hoping children
will jump in them
smelling the bittersweet of yesterday
raked and burned
they are returned

Sitting in gutters and streams
even in death they dream
in molting piles
all the while
these fading embers...
come September
again remember
they stay within us  
burning beauty
until ...
valuable things are given
life again...
come springtime.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
For my kitty Spanky, who is dying...
So today seems to have some of that last wind.
 Sep 2016 Joel M Frye
wordvango
somewhere deep came a verse
that startled my universe made me stop
spinning take  notice
of it
made me remember things
that hurt and haunted and were  
deeply buried
it started with the word eternity
and continued
you can't hide from it
it is gonna catch up
eventually
 Sep 2016 Joel M Frye
Lisa Pike
Twisted contortions of reality
Mainly made of me
Freaky geeky. Unreal
Madness prevails inside
Outside puffy eyes

Days later feeling pretty
Singing ditties and dancing until blackness comes again
Waking to a 50/50 chance of reality and skeletons
 Sep 2016 Joel M Frye
wordvango
some believe in the deity
others in the sanctity of self
I think poetry is a religion
a soul unto itself
not a god
but close
and I seek her his its
calming words
wisdom
to get on my knees
and worship
every night
alone
here
in my sanctuary
like any
true believer
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