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Wherever the ocean whispers, you will see him one last time
Faintly smiling at the barest touch and asking why
Wishing that he could move on
And perhaps believe
There is no use in giving love
One more try

You will see him hide his sorrow, in the passion of a storm
Waiting for the softest hand that holds a sword
He would do anything for a chance
To kiss the very feet
That keeps his spirit in such unrest
And defeat

You can watch him row across the neverending ocean
With eyes which cannot see the likes of you
Your tender heart in your hand
Wishing he could move on and perhaps believe
There is reason to give love
One more chance

Wherever the ocean whispers, you will see him one last time
Faintly humming a melody he cannot forget
Wishing that he could move on
And perhaps believe
There is another who is singing
This same song
Copyright *Neva Flores @2011
www.changefulstormpoetry.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
I feel you slowly burning into me
I always know you're there
As if you were right here with me
Your face within my hair

I feel your breath upon my face
I see your eyes of blue
Hear your whispered words of love
As if I'm next to you

I feel your warmth against my skin
Your scent it drifts to me
Whispered kisses raining down
From lips that I can't see

I close my eyes drift off to sleep
I'm awakened by your touch
I reach out and you're not there
But I still feel your love
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Tired of all the wasted days
All the wasted years
So tired of running backwards
How time disappears

Sick of being sick and tired
Tired of being sad
I decided that only I could change it
Be happy with what I had

Tired of feeling lost
Always seeking home
I took a good look at myself
And how far I've roamed

I've never put down roots
Or clung to anything
Never stayed in one place for long
Afraid they'd clip my wings

It's no wonder I feel I don't belong
Anywhere I roam
I've never stayed there long enough
To call any place my home
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
A drop of dew
in the dawning light,
the eyes of pearl,
an angel in disguise,
I touched a heart
so pure and fine,
I felt the innocence,
so divine.
I wrote this poem when I just started teaching 6th grade for an NGO and I felt like I was a kid myself.
They took me to the place I longed for, my childhood. I couldn't think of a better dedication to them except the title thanking them with all my heart.
You start a playlist
of good old rock songs
open a book
and start reading it along
you get up for a cup of coffee and,
you realize the songs
have stopped playing,
the playlist is over,
probably for long has been
That's when you know,
you know,
you got lost in your love
you are going to feel sad,
when it nears its end,
you are going to lose
a true best friend,
only to make
a new one again.
Do you feel the same love for books as I do. I don't feel like I have done this love justice enough.
 Jun 2012 Nathanael D Mellum
SRM
it hit me sometime later that graduation is life's greatest metaphor.

you show up early confused about where to go
you stand in a line that you're not sure you belong in
you march, following your peers, hoping you're going the right way
you fill out a form so someone older than you can correctly pronounce your name
you sit around and listen to adults talk, but you don't really pay too much attention
your name is called, a few people clap
then it's over.  

and you stand outside and ask:

"what now?"
Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of *****.
Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
but the meanest thing that he ever did was
before he left he went and named me Sue.

Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,
it seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.
My fist got hard and my wits got keen.
Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,
but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,
I'd search the ***** tonks and bars and ****
that man that gave me that awful name.

But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had
just hit town and my throat was dry.
I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon in a street of mud
and at a table dealing stud sat the *****,
mangy dog that named me Sue.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
from a worn-out picture that my mother had
and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old
and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,
and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?
Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down
but to my surprise he came up with a knife
and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair
right across his teeth. And we crashed through
the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging
in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when.
He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',
he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.
He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.

And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if
a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.
I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's
that name that helped to make you strong."

Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one
helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've
got the right to **** me now and I wouldn't blame you
if you do. But you ought to thank me
before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit
in your eye because I'm the nut that named you Sue."
Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,
called him pa and he called me a son,
and I came away with a different point of view
and I think about him now and then.
Every time I tried, every time I win and if I
ever have a son I think I am gonna name him
Bill or George - anything but Sue.

— The End —