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 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
charmaine
He was thinking of the words
the words to say goodbye.

He was thinking of the kisses
and the hugs
and the love.

The love he no longer felt
for her.

He finally got the courage
the courage to look her in the eye.

He looked in those eyes and
realized he couldn't.

The words wouldn't come out,
the words wouldn't form.

So he thought of the kisses
and the hugs
and the love.

And said goodbye.
love, relationships, trust
What can **** a man,
But is used several times a day?

What has a positive word in it,
But a horrible meaning?

What is simple to say,
But hard to fulfill?

What creates hopelessness,
But started with joy?

What word
Is the most important,
Most life changing,
Most devastating,
Most deadly,
Seven letters you've ever heard?

The answer is
*Goodbye
 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
SE Reimer
~

this tide of clouds is rolling in,
iridescent crimson, tangerine,
her swells in shades imagining;
walk with me upon this shore,
tide pools of the night explore,
’til the tide returns once more;
her color palette, crashing wave,
troupe de ballet, all ablaze,
this sea of memories engrave.

~

*post script.

this inspired by a particularly
color-filled sunset last night;
it resembled an incoming tide;
yes, of course i photographed it!
knowing that i cannot resist
a beautiful sunset, she asks,
'whatcha gonna do with
all those sunset pics?',
i respond, 'i suppose like
all good memories,
i just plan to hold them..
close.'
 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
Savion
You really have to watch those liberal males,
they'll spend hours and hours with you having
deep intellectual conversations.

They'll discuss deep ideas, contemplate esoteric
theory and spiritual ideas. They'll make love
for hours and write deep and meaningful poetry
about you. Sure, they will probably wear their hair
long and most likely won't own a television.

But, they'll understand art and architecture and
literature. It's true that they probably won't give two
shakes about who won what football game, but they'll
dance with you late at night under the stars and they're
always looking for new ways to please you and usually
understand your deepest thoughts, often before you
understand them yourself.

They'll be your best friend and always treat you as
an equal, in fact, it will never even enter their mind
that you're not. They're almost always physically fit, too,
because they're usually the outdoorsy type and love to hike.
They never make fun of others, or discuss small ideas.
They enjoy discussing ways to improve the world and
the lives of others.

Sure, they won't slap you on your *** and tell you to get in
the kitchen and cook them some dinner and bring them a beer
while you're at it like those macho men on the right. Instead
they'll probably tell you to relax while they whip you up a
gourmet meal and serve it to you on the best dishes.

Yeah, you really gotta watch out for those liberal males.
I wrote this in response to a derogatory comment about liberal men.
i.
fall is almost here, the autumn leaves are alive with
color and the trees are standing tall and majestic

and you are still nowhere to be seen

ii.

i wonder a lot, if things would have gone differently, if i would still be
by your side and if you would let me
those are the worst days, the ones where you are only an echo in the
wind but it is enough to spark a tornado and the nights come quietly
and restlessly and i toss and i turn and i wonder a lot, if i would ever
choose for things to happen differently

iii.

it's funny how things turn out because just two years ago we
were sharing the same jokes in math class and if i close my eyes and
hold my breath, i can still see you typing furiously on your calculator
and throwing notes on my desk effortlessly without anyone ever
noticing, we were so beautiful in those days; so happy and young and
naive and beautiful

iv.

i don't know where you are anymore, i talk to you sometimes but
very rarely and that thought doesn't bother me as much as it used to
i know that i don't need you in my life anymore, although i have a feeling
that even if i did it wouldn't be the same because autumn leaves always
lose color and we live our love in shades of cool, and it is
no longer beautiful

(h.l.)
red by taylor swift
 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
Megan H
And she wrote
About the way the sky looked
At the end of the day
About the way the stars danced
When she looked at them through her telescope
About the poem she read
That made her cry
About the ocean
As it found its way to the shore
About the storm she witnessed
As it angrily shot out lightning
All beautiful things
All beautiful things

But most importantly,
She wrote about you.
About your kind eyes
And your soft smile
And the way you could talk to her
And the way you laughed
The way you would look at her
Like no one else did
You understood
All beautiful things
All beautiful things
 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
SE Reimer
~

her coast line feels endless,
her straits and her bays,
each curve of her coves
is guiding the way.
to his infinite tracing,
his breaths and her sighs,
leave their hearts racing,
gives breath-taking rise,
to views borne of heaven,
swept up and then falls,
to the beach where he finds,
her seashell that calls.
his answer she hears
in the voice of his tide,
his infinite strength
she draws to her side;
the laugh of his thunder,
the crash of his roar,
from the crest of his shoulder,
to the breast of her shore;
she melts as he touches
the warmth of her portal,
as she reaches through sands
for his heart and his soul.
an angelic witness
to a union held fast;
his body of water,
her terra firma in clasp.

~

*post script.

seashore imagery
clings to this mind...
must be time to take a trip
to the ocean with my love.
 Sep 2015 Poeticatheist
Laurent
Rhymers are takers and readers to be givers forever deeper.
Do you trust me to deliver my poems to you?
Without re-inventing the pages or
disparaging my poetic talents

“A man who views the world the same at 50
as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.”


Poetry is ongoing art form, the poet never cross the
River to get the imagery,
for the same reason a ghost can’t cross water

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul,
and paints his own nature into ....
The painter puts brush to canvas, and the poet puts pen to pad


Do you trust me to deliver my poems to you?
Without the *******, let me surrender to my passion.
Let me write with all of you in mind
Let's spread kindness and happiness where it’s most needed
into the hearts of the one who believe in me

Poetry is an going art form
educate yourself about the history of the human spirit, before
Condemning it to the trash with the avatar symbol,
Make your craft, worth repeating
and your poems would stand out
like a breath of fresh air in a crowded room.
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