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full moon
in a sequined cloak
one eye open
in the smoke

hiding in
a bit of lace
a coquettish fan
over your face

all golden
are your
dripping beams
through my window
birthing dreams

all through the air
the darkness stains
leaving dust
as its remains

drowsy now
the lullabies
bring that moondust
to my eyes

night
he slumbers
in the day
but he's now snoring
where he lay

all yawning now
the poems will keep
I'll join with night
in restful

sleep


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/21/2016
I have been woken up in the middle of the night for months now. But for some reason I feel like I'll get a good night's sleep tonight

I'm exhausted!
 Jun 2015 Janine Sleiman
Maria
I am sorry that I am trying so hard to fit in.
I know that I am not good publicity.
No news is good news.
No fool is worth a second chance.
 Jun 2015 Janine Sleiman
Maria
She's more than beautiful:
mysterious, ****, sweet, charming...
She's everything you could ever imagine
and more than that, too.

Every eye is on her when she enters the room.
She breathes out fire,
fills your lungs with burning desire;
Scorching flames you better hold behind clenched teeth.

No one says a thing about her;
She could hang their name with just one comeback.
If that doesn't work,
she's got a poisonous glare and a collection of brass-knuckle promise rings.
"The bruises really bring out the blue in your eyes,"
but only if you aren't playing nice.

No one can keep their heart beating right;
She takes your breath away, no matter who you are.
To see her vulnerable,
what a rare sight to behold.
Keep your fantasies under control.
If you try to rescue her, she'll never forget, always regret you.

Now the pain in her black eyes,
the sway in her hips as she walks away,
don't make me the same kind of weak anymore.
Nothing is worse than being blessed by the angel that I wrecked.
Please just take my advice.

A dream come true
haunts me in my nightmares.
So save your dreams of her
for sleeping at night.
isn't it odd
how we can know
human nature
well enough
to write poems
that move others
to tears
yet must hear
the words of others
to cry
alone
.
Peter, Paul and Mary - "No Other Name" www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GdB3oWRS04
Roses are red
Pumpkins are orange
Nothing rhymes with orange
I **** at poetry
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