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 Apr 2014 Rob
Joanna Grace
Why do we cage birds
If their purpose is flight?
 Apr 2014 Rob
Carl Joseph Roberts
Would you mind if I took a break
From writing my short rhymes
Will you say you'll miss my words
That my poems touched your lives

Will I even be remembered
For one poem that was read
Have I touched someone deep inside
With something that was said

If I took a break for just awhile
And enjoyed a week or two
Would you say you understand
Go do what's best for you

A spring break could be just the thing
That I need to clear my mind
I must take a break and get away
To rejuvenate my life

Carl Joseph Roberts

Be back in a few weeks I promise,  just got a crap load of stuff to do.

Carl Joseph Roberts
Just a short break for work stuff. A full time job plus now I have 3 houses to rehab  and get ready.  I'm not sure exactly how long but I promise I will be back.  Hell maybe the pull to write will call me back sooner then I think.
 Apr 2014 Rob
mûre
You're racing me to intimacy
erasing me implicitly ... solicit the specifics
but what creates your prosperity is taking away
from what makes me.  

An exhibit, I try to push but still you limit
that word becomes a fence once a bed lies within it.
 Apr 2014 Rob
mûre
Oil and Water
 Apr 2014 Rob
mûre
I quarantined myself in a still pool
tranquil and floating, waiting for the ice
to finally freeze my turbid heart
into a more peaceful *****.

On the shore you saw me
or I saw you
and perhaps I was a lighthouse
or perhaps you were a lifeboat,
gliding from the banks
you poured yourself in like hot oil.

As you slipped over my arms, legs, torso, face,
you breathed into my ear a steady stream of prophecy and promise
-It's not right for a woman like you to be alone. You are built to give.

And so I felt your mouth seal over mine
and allowed you to inhale the starry swirls of life
I had been conserving for winter.

As you pulled me far deeper with you
we could not emulsify
but we became inseparable.
 Apr 2014 Rob
Amanda In Scarlet
Bacchus begone,
I will never taste a wine
As potent or as sweet as those soft, pink, dew-kissed lips.
There is no grape as round or luscious
As her dimpled, yielding globes,
And when she dances, I die
a sweet death, and beg with every breath
To have her in my mouth again,
To sip her honeyed juices,
As she writhes upon my tongue.
An experiment, inspired by the myths of Bacchus/Dionysus and Greco-Roman deities.
 Apr 2014 Rob
Rachel Mena
The greatest misconception
of poetry
is thinking
the poet
means something more
than what they said.
 Apr 2014 Rob
Julia
Previews
 Apr 2014 Rob
Julia
You and I are the movie’s trailer,

the first lick of a dripping ice cream cone,

the first snow in winter.

We’re a beginning,

a preview of what could happen,

what would happen if our lives ever align. 

But for now, I’m satisfied with

serendipitous blurs of visits,
occasional tastes of our favorite tea,

and the hope that I’ll enjoy

a fresh *** of Earl Grey 

with you down this winding road.
Contemplating doing this one (and others) as spoken word.
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