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Did you feel it?

'Round about 11:37pm
Eastern

Last night

I was rebroadcasting
This enormous grin

This joyous
Guffaw

This hoot
And hollar

A small
Connection

Causing
And releasing

A death star sized
Blast of joy

You had to feel it

It was
Just after
She left

When I
Could think
Again

Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
I tried to protect you by not remembering when the rabbis were teachers
and preachers we're on the beaches
Wishes were had in between sheets
Catfish spoken riddles but truthfully
Beautiful ripples in *******

So I was going to invite you over for txgiving but all pathology from the dsm-5 was represented.  When I say over, I mean to KFC-
cousin Larry had to work but all the coleslaw and breadcrumbs you can swallow. How bout you did you get stuffed by the poultry-geist?
her hair whipped
cat-of-9-tails
flaying my taut skin
lust raw

bound tight
inescapable
submission
a prisoner of passion
subjected to
her body's device
Sweet my lady, I long to see
Inside the heart and mind of thee.
Were I to look there, what would I find?
Gracious lady, tell me your mind.

Do you fear I do not love thee,
Because my face you have not seen?
Or do you trust my love's unchang'd,
As it has ever been?

Do you care to know my heart,
Or have you tired of me?
My lady sweet, do tell, do tell,
My lady sweet, do tell me.

As lovers will, I feel bereft
In exile from thee, sweet!
My lady I confess to thee,
My fears I lay at thy feet.

Whether you love me yet or no,
I will not my love betray, though
Without you my own light grows dim,
I hardly see the way.
When the most potent
words are found
within the marble
quarry of the heart,
are chiseled free
from the incoherent
mass, set thoughtfully
in the right places,
the poem becomes
a living being,
its song
echoing long and long
in the deeps of the soul
whence it came.
A songbird in a gilded cage
gave to me the gift of song.
Soft and low with gentle tones
she warbled for me the whole night long.
When I was low she gave me cheer
and courage at times that I felt fear.
Was I wrong to keep her caged?
Such spirits ought to be free range.
Today I woke and something’s wrong
The air is still, there is no song
I rushed toward the gilded cage
The latch is open
The lark has flown.
Aretha Franklin has passed away. The cage of this frail body no longer contains her free spirit
She doesn't like to be talked to directly
It kind of freaks her out

If you do &
briefly
Look away

gone.

Next time
i'll be calm


Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
 Jul 2018 Marsha Singh
Ciel Noir
★A★

★S S★
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★E☆☆☆☆☆☆☆E★
★  ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  ★
★M☆☆☆☆☆M★
★A☆☆☆A★
★D★
☆E★E☆
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☆O★★★O☆
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★I★★★  ☆☆☆☆☆I☆
★T★★★  ☆☆☆☆☆T☆
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★I ★★★★★  ☆☆☆I☆
★N★★★★★☆☆N☆
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★★                    ☆☆
★L★★★☆☆☆L☆
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★F★   ☆F☆
★E☆
Tho we be like strands of nettle, each with his own drop of particular poison, tho over the years we have tangled now and then like tomcats in the alley....

Be it not the beauty and allure of this gathering of writers to appreciate and admire the difference found within?

T'were it not for the likes of Francis this site would lack bite, would lack spice and would lose much of its' erstwhile attraction.

So wherefore art thou Frank?
I miss your stuff. I miss your sharp tongue...
I miss your intellect and repartee!

Wherefore art thou Francis?
M.
Many, many moons ago we lost another who just vanished like Frank.
He had a similar style to Frank, just as searching, slightly less acidic but like Frank his contributions were very edifying and widely appreciated.
I speak of "JP".
Long gone, much missed and richly remembered.
M.
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