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 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
Philosopoet
As I lay on my bed with a cool fan blowing,
I can almost see darkness, neither hands are showing.
As I lay on my bed, I feel all of my worries flowing
from my head
to my feet
and beyond my cotton sheets.
 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
Ana
Untitled
 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
Ana
November began
with stiffened fingers,
a few hazy mornings,
too frail of wrists, and
scrapes from swollen
words on our bare knees—
wearisome evenings hung
in sadness.

For nights at a time
I have been sewing years,
together, in those garnered
boxes full of old photographs
and a bundle of typewriter
letters tied by a single
blue thread.

There is comfort in
heavy coat pockets,
carrying a history of
unsure things, like
tea-stained lace, a
delicate cameo brooch
and a small book of
winter poems.
To
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
Anonymous
Remember when we were young,
And played with "magic" sticks and could run and run?
When stones and grass were treasured riches,
And when life wasn't full of glitches?

Remember when the adventure was what we were to create,
And when we were so hard to agitate?
When fights started in haste,
Over the others so named poor taste?

Remember when we had imagination,
When the world was of our own creation?
When life was a game,
And there were monsters to tame?

Remember when color was such a simple thing,
Fun to splatter and spill over everything?
When art was a dollop or a splash of paint,
When creativity had no restraint?

Remember when worries weren't real,
When no one ever seemed to **** or steal?
When life was a fake,
An impostor, a feint?

Remember when living,
Wasn't so bad,
When freedom was real,
When happiness wasn't sad?

Remember when pretend was true,
When life wasn't living and when we had nothing to do?
When if the bad guys came to steal you away,
Your friend would always and up saving the day?

Remember when we were young,
And played with "magic" sticks and could run and run?
When stones and grass were treasured riches,
And when life wasn't full of glitches?
Not very good, I'm still editing this one.
 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
D.H. Lawrence
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
the ground warms my feet
the wind longs to play with my hair
the smell of the faint ocean water fills my surrounding
the clouds fill the dark sky
the cold waves crash the shore
the laughs of birds overcome
and i am safe

*this is paradise
Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.
 Apr 2013 Mae Queen
InJensMind
I feel your touch
Softly
On my skin
Your warm fingers  
Gliding
  Over me slowly
My body responds with a chill
But I am not cold

I feel your breath
Gently
On my neck
The warm air
Gliding
Over me slowly
My body responds with a chill
But I am not cold

I feel your body
Tenderly
Up against mine
Your warm embrace
Encases me slowly
My body responds with a chill
But I am not cold
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