The boys hit the girls
and the boys hit other boys
the boys grow up and got guns
the girls too
and they shoot the other men and women
and boys and girls
and bury them in mass graves
but just the same
I love seeing the sunshine
when it's raining outside.

What would you say if
I asked you for
another chance?

It wouldn't be
my second, maybe
third, or fourth

and I have no guarantee
I won't blow it
this time.

What would you say if
I asked you to
choose me
once more

even though I can't
promise I'll always
choose you?

What would you say if
I told you
I don't love you, but
lately I've been thinking
I could?

Would it be enough for you
if I asked you
to wait for me?

Because you have made me
happier
and a little less
heavy

and because your love
might save me, and
I'm tired of drowning?

I might run out on you
again, I get scared
easily and I never
seem to know what
I want, but I think
it's you, this time,

and I know this doesn't
sound altogether
promising, but at least
it's honest, so tell me.

What would you say?

You'll find the true married man, walking fast to get to his home.  You see, this man loves his wife, he resist the temptation to roam.
He knows he has found a good wife, to satisfy his needs.  
While out in public, he fights off women like bees.
He knows not to take her love for granted, he builds her confidence. Their love grows stronger, this is their great defense.
A real husband, know how to use his words.  He does not fuss and fight, so his voice can be heard.
A real husband is polite, he knows how to open your car door.  He makes sure you are properly seated, as your feet touches the floor.
A real husband remembers, all those precious dates.  He does not give excuses, to explain while he is late.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing

When she’s hot
She’s very, very hot
And when I’m hot,  She melts
So drown us both with gushing hose
And soothe our steaming pelts!

Everyone thinks I go to bed at 10
Little do they know that's when I awake
The real me, inner me, little voice inside my head that can't be hushed
all come out to say hello
Screaming and filling my head with terrible thoughts
It's in these next hrs that my friend comes to visit, my blade
The type of friend who you don't have to say anything to, he just understands
Helps me cope with the stress, loneliness, and numbness I feel  
I'll bleed out all my secrets and he's there to listen, never missing a drop
In the morning my friends will still be with me, just quieter, whispering,
But tomorrow night they'll be back loud and clear and we will talk again

I live a poet’s life in an anonymous plane
Unseen by those considered normal,
Unheard by those deemed sane.
The only proof of my existence
Dangerous knives of poetry in lines on paper
An alias moves the pen in my hand
That scribbles stinging, bitter words
About love, death and the atrocities of man

I am anonymous
Even my name is not my own
My thoughts are scrawled wickedly with intent on paper
For the masses to observe
At a distance my carnivorous demanding audience must remain
From physical contact with these dull creatures
I gladly refrain
Retreating behind a mask of stone
Beneath it a face that bears lines of great sadness
A frozen sculpture of a heart for many years entombed

So it is and shall always be
Truly my words are all you will ever see
Closing off the door to reality
With the stroke of a pen
To my invisible life I hastily return
I am anonymous

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby

love it is a lovely thing that we can give away
to each and everyone each and everyday
something to be shared something we can give
a little piece of love can help the world to live
all around the universe in each and every place
owned by everybody in the  human race
a very special thing a gift that we all share
deep inside your heart love is always there

On the roads, light bright,
Modern girl, skimpy clad, sells
Her heart unfairly.