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All snuggled in my bed
Open my eyes and turn my head
The clock read 6:30 am
Up and at em they say
Ready to start my day
Failing to realize
That wasn’t the time at all
The clock was wrong from what I saw
Daylight Savings Time is here again
I’m an hour ahead to start my plans
Who thought an hour could mess up tor head
For now I wish I was still snuggled up
Warm in my bed
 Nov 2017 phil roberts
Cné
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This becomes more evident as we grow older. What we once may have thought was a work of art, now because of age has fallen apart. When we started out we might have looked like a Michelangelo, but in the end I fear that we shall all become Picasso's.

Written by James M Vines
James wrote this little rhyme for me. And I had to share!
Thank you, James!
 Nov 2017 phil roberts
Cné
Love can cause elation
or the greatest kind of pain.
It wrecks lives in the process
and evolves a "human stain."

It is the one fulfillment
but when unrequited stings.
And agony is just a tithe
when losing loved ones brings.
Inspired by a new friend that trusted me enough to share their pain with me.
I hear a wind whispering from the hills
It comes down tickling the woodland rills
From far is heard the frightened murmur of leaves
As it pounces on them like wayside thieves

It shakes the branches of flowering trees
And their weak petals drop like confetti in the breeze
Over hills and trees it loves to skip and stray
Always in motion, never inclined to stay

It moves unhampered over streams and field
With no resistance to its might, they simply yield
Like a child, it romps over the sloppy meadows
In its gentle touch, dances the gleeful flowers

It skillfully pleats the blue chiffon of the ocean
Sometimes curling waves in electric motion
Over the sea it runs puffing up the sails
And over the sky heaping clouds in bales

Sometimes it steals furtively like a lover
And disappears kissing our cheeks under cover
Often it comes capering with a lilt and a swing
We feel delighted when we hear its merry song

Like a nomad, the wind roams from place to place,
Hiding its mysterious presence from our glance
From an unknown hide out it comes like a spirit
But always making us feel its vigorous might!

At times it gains force and roars like a beast
Felling trees and wreaking havoc with its twist
In rampage, it sweeps the sea and the ground
Triggering sparks of fear and horror all around
So happy to see this enthusiastic response to my straight and simple lines. I have no words to thank you dear friends, especially to Kim who has given an extra shine to my poem......!
 Nov 2017 phil roberts
wordvango
which period shall I resound the four
verses one, the rhyme?  shall I use parentheses
or just write free, might I space
or italicize or leave this un-glamorized?

I walk down the long six-story concrete steps
a step at a time divining
the barren apartment
the govt spends
its money on above hovering

You think I want to live here
in this danger rat infestation
its free but that don't make me happy
I have a baby
and the world calls me a freeloader

obviously, I have decided to
write this in stanzas
it doesn't flow like the steps
this woman walks down daily
I do my best

sometimes I sleep with men when the cupboards bare
I decided to break the flow up

for why
I don't know

I have gone two weeks without diapers before and my baby
I would do anything for her so don't judge me. I
am not a *****.

I am trying to survive.  

Again I interrupt her story to inject-
poetry has to make a difference, it often doesn't rhyme, it
isn't made to be  syllables and meters.
It is to make a difference. Let me shut up.
let her speak.

I didn't mean to bring a child into this hell. But I gave in
to one night of weakness, Now I am stuck  on the sixth floor here in this bleak *** building with no hope no
idea how I might make her life better.
I have tried god.

All I have now are the streets.

The streets are brutal.
 Nov 2017 phil roberts
Jon London
I heard a song
From within the rain
As it splashed against
My window-pane

Like a mystical bell
Casting a spell
I looked outside
While raindrops fell

Ripples of jingles
Guttering in song
As children in play
Went skipping along

Their faces a picture
In the beauty of nature
Laughing and jumping
In puddles together

Crystaline beads
Hugging the trees
As it slowly danced
To the musical breeze

Pavements of silver
Reflections of truth
Feeling the love
As the sun shone through

The skies ablaze
As the music fades
Where a touch of love
Now smiles above

In the beauty, born
From the rain.







© Jon.London 2010
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I get the growing sense
that words are within my soul
yet I keep them hidden
a secret
even to me.
The front of my mind
seems an abyss
and the words I find stirring
much deeper within
perhaps it'll churn
and then stumble out
with no control
perhaps it'll flow like water
which ever the outlet
Im certain of this
that words
are within my soul.
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