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You say you love me baby
but you sure don't understand--
you say you love me baby,
but you just don't understand--
my love for you is stronger
than the lightning in God's hand.

You'll love me for a lifetime baby
or maybe even two,
yes, you'll love me for a lifetime, baby,
or maybe even two,
when the sun itself has burnt away
I'll still be loving you.

You think that you can quit me,
like a drunk can can quit his *****
you think that you can quit me, mama,
like a drunk can quit his *****,
you'll never do it, baby,
no one loves.you like I do.
Copyright 2015 by Michael S. Simpson.
All rights reserved by the author.
Everybody's heard about those rose-colored glasses
the ones that make the world look sweet.
If I had to choose between roses and RayBans,
the roses would win in a heartbeat.

Whatever you look for is what you will find:
cold and dark or sunny and bright.
I'll take the rose lenses every time,
to see my world full of light..
copyright 2015 by Michael S. Simpson
All rights reserved by the author.
God in the wind, the rain and snow,
God on high, and God below,
God with me, where'er I go,
God! God! God!

God in the cold, and God in the fire,
Burning away all base desire,
Setting all my soul afire,
God! God! God!
A chant inspired by a trip to a cave where St. Francis used to go to fast and pray until God spoke to him.
Copyright 2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved by the author.
I sit in a chair
outside our front door
with a view
of the surrounding forest.
Flies buzz nearby,
birds chirp a little farther away; and
geese argue heatedly about something
at the neighbor's pond.
Someone is nailing something,
swinging a hammer hard.
I close my eyes,
taking it all in: 
flies, birds, geese, hammer, sunshine.

The rhythmic pounding goes first,
hammer slipping out
of my mental grasp,
then the geese fade away,
still arguing,
followed by the
flies,
birds,
sliding from my awareness
until
there's just
the silent sun
shining
on an empty chair.
Copyright 2015. All rights reserved by author.
comes the
time
when
mist
must
ask
with
delicate
tongue,
"please
whisper."
from my fridge magnet poetry, 2014
she texts me
from the kitchen:
inviting me to share
a breakfast of eggs.
whose?
i wonder,
idly speculating
is this a come-on?
i'm sure of it when
she follows up with:
i'm open to pregnant conversation
sunny side up
there's a band-aid on my finger
where you cut me yesterday
slicing rotten pieces
of my vegetables away

you didn't even notice
it's your sweet nearsighted way
so no drama was enacted
and i had no need to say--
The challenge: write a poem in less than 15 minutes!
All rights to this magnificent gem reserved by the author.
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