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The hottest lines - one after the other I devour
Salty - sultry - tasty - juicy sweet like a toasted flower.
The ink runs from the corners of my brain,
Oh God, have I been eating poetry again?

I made the mistake of swallowing one set of rhymes when
The librarian appeared, putting on her necklace chained
Reading glasses while looking down her nose.
Her eyeballs rolled, her head shook out her woes.

Tearing off another page with her walking toward me,
She was about to release the dogs - I had nowhere to flee.
She stomped her feet and began to weep
As I crumple the next page into a heap.

She backed away as I snarl and I bark,
Crunch, crunch, crunch - swallowing all the way to the question mark.
Finding her nerve she approaches me with a moan,
Then I watch in amazement as she tears off a page of her own.

Folding it up in the palm of her hand, she smiles
And growls and shoves the whole page in while
Pulling out another book from a hidden pocket in her dress.
We sneak off together into a hidden recess.

The hottest lines - one after the other we devour
Salty - sultry - tasty - juicy sweet like toasted flowers.
The ink runs from the corners of our brains,
Oh God, have we been eating poetry again?

With baited eyes we snarl and bark
Chomping with joy in our bookish dark.
This piece is my attempt to describe that need for expression, especially if you have someone who shares that need.
Many strange things in my time I have seen
What I see now may seem extreme
I sit in the garden by a small bungalow
They both stand together, a cat and a crow.
What I see is an unbelievable sight
The cat walks away, the crow takes flight
I return again the very next day
Together they stand in the very same way.
The cat is at peace and so is the crow
They are both too old, and very slow
The crow it stays in the same oak tree
And the cat can no longer run easily.
So within this garden they both now reside
Weak and feeble, yet still alive.
Maybe they've lost the will to ****
Or simply they both have had their fill.
But there is a lesson that is clear to see
If they can live in peace, so can we.
This is actually is a true story. When I was working in a pensioner's house I saw a cat and a crow on the lawn eating food together. The pensioner told me they seemed to get on but I must say they both looked like they had seen better days.
 Dec 2017 CeilingStar
She Writes
What is Love really?
Is it really affection?
Or an obsession?
The line is blurred

When you love someone
So madly
That you lose yourself
Is that love?

Constantly thinking, analyzing,
Obsessing
Every detail of a relationship
Is that out of affection?

The pain in your chest
Thinking about them with someone else
Is that jealousy because of affection?
I am not convinced
It used to come as easy as breathing.
When thoughts would betray the mind, infect the heart, creep down the arms and through the hands. The touch of pen to finger tips as ink injects words onto a white page.
There was a ferocity to this pursuit. The meaning? At the end it was, but concealed from start. Trying to be smart, failing. Not a wall that'***** when the skull to crack as an egg shell to make omelette.
Ingredients pre-mixed, pre-chosen and pre-empt. For the taste and the smell.
The air of knowing truth. As inundated with emotional attachment as it can be but truth to the brain to ease the betrayal.
Mix cheese through, it's always nicer that way.
And when he does not love me anymore,
I will build him
one last altar,
and decide to burn it to the ground.

But will only get as far
as lighting the match.

Thinking about how he used matches
for something.
Sometime.
Probably.

I'll brush my teeth,
thinking of the gaps between his.
How really,
it's a great metaphor for the distance between out hearts
or something stupid like that.

But in the end,
it's not a metaphor,
or an analogy.
They're just teeth.
(That could never quite come together
kind of like us)

I will crawl into bed
imagining an alternate universe
in which we have started a life together.
One where I wake up and reach across the bed for him.
Get the kids ready for school,
which is funny
because in this universe I never wanted children,
but in that universe,
we created something out of nothing.
Something with his eyes,
and my nose.
A manifestation of the love between two people.
Proof that it happened.
That is was real.
And it was resilient enough to breathe life into a world
that only offered it death.

In that universe,
our hair turns as silver
as our wedding rings.
And each wrinkle,
is a space where our skin just wanted
to hold the other person even closer.


But here
in this harsh reality,
time only pulls us apart.
And we will likely grow gray
with other people now.

In this universe,
I learn to say goodbye
to him.


I will build him
a library of poems.

And decide to burn it to the ground.
A poem on letting go.
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