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She acted like her ****** was
made of gold.
And
that my heart was to be
bought and sold.
And
that I would bow to
that wet alter and
sell my soul.
She was
wrong though—it’s not  
for sale;
not for any price;
not even if her
****** were made of
gold.
Torrential down pour
Life giving water for plants
Sad at the window.
This isn't a poem,
it's a thank you to the
HP community for
all their support and love.
I'm in treatment and working
******* my addiction,
but I woke up with a
heart full of gratitude,
not to sound sappy, but
I love you all.  Carpe Diem,
and let the ink flow.
Thank you HP I love you guys.  BLT, Carlos, South City Lady, Love Storytelling, Woody, Traveler, Samantha, so many, too many to list, and I have to go to group, you've been timetabled, Mark, Cloudy Daze, Fawn, Gideon, Glass
Slipper,  Girl, Diya, M-E, Whit Howland, Mrs Time table, Sarita, Cat, Clementine, Amanda, Lori, Stephen E. Yokum, Natt, Raven...so many! to you all ap, Beautifully Broken. Guy, Mellani, Sarita...Love you all...Keep on writing.  Weeping Willow, Elizabeth.
 17h Jayne E
Hector
~
Oh my spirit and mind

would you follow my skin

and in turn follow time?

Be the calm after storms

and the coolness of night,

with a soft placid swing

dance along by the light.

Let the restlessness go

my dear spirit and mind

for I yearn to be in tune

with the passing of time.

-
H.O
May 18, 2020
“Dreams and restless thoughts came flowing to him from the river, from the twinkling stars at night, from the sun's melting rays. Dreams and a restlessness of the soul came to him.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
 17h Jayne E
Hector
~

If I looked like I am in my mind

you would carefully find

the fierce colors of sunset

as reflects on the waves.

And my skin like in summer

would resemble the rays

of a bright morning sun.

If I looked like I am in my soul

you would think all the fun

in the laughter of children

lingers under my tongue.

And the shade of my eyes

would be blue like the skies

if I looked like I am

in my soul and my mind.


-
H.O
June 30, 2020
“Inside each of us are memories, fantasies and desires for home - a shelter waiting to be built, a place of peace to be revisited.”
― Louisa Thomsen Brits
 2d Jayne E
Eryck
If I could
I  would 
But I can't
So I  won't
--Be the carpenter to the building up of your ego.
--Shower you with confident praise, umbrella you from dissident things.
--Figure out the high and low moods of an adrenaline *****.
--Nod in agreement, like a court jester, to the latest exploits of a drama queen.
 
 Its a constant chore I abhor just to get you up and moving out the door.
Push you out the nest to fly,
throw you in the water to sink or swim, to try.
It's what we do when children are all grown,
NOT what we do for girlfriends who are afraid to leave home or be alone.

It's  not a keeping score point system where I'm giving more than I'm getting. Its more of a witnessing to the feeling of the allowing and the letting.

If I could
I would
But I can't
So I  won't
-- pave a yellow brick road through your misgivings.
--Smooth off the edges of your indecisions.
--Give you the cowardly  lions courage he got from Oz.
--Lie to boss Hog that your sick in bed.
-- Tweezer out the splinters of your perceived injustices.

If I  could
I would
But I can't
so I wont
Cottle you, bottle you, can't promise you or promote you. Must remove you and remote you, no longer develop you or devote you. Your on your own.

And in the end, dispite what I  do and the might that I  do it with... the final road is one we walk alone.
  I have to let you go now.
Even her jealousy got the best of her as she got onto my Hello Poetry account and deleted almost all of my notifications which are also connected to the wonderful comments people have posted at the end of my poems. She said I was flirting. I finally told her,  I have to let you go now.
~

prelude.

did you know that English stands alone as a written language requiring the capitalization of the word "I"... yet makes no similar provision for “we” or “us; a sad statement of self inflation.  it was after learning this that i abandoned the rule in my own poetry.


~

my i’s averted,
lowered, diverted,
reduced in size,
an exercise of
large proportions;
breaking down the me-isms,
finding room for we-isms,
to take the larger place;
create an i for seeing,
the case for simple,
smaller being;
no need to punctuate,
instead eliminate this
compulsion to inflate;
’tis my i-drop moment,
my i-reducing ointment,
these pupils are dilated,
deflating i and me,
enlarging we and thee;
finding that in i-reduction,
the eyes are widely opened,
thus to better see,
what i really need to be.
Poetry that animates
   Your own creations

Poetry that stirs up
   Your own recipes

Poetry in motion
   Taking you somewhere free

Poetry, a passing stare
   Made you do a double glare

Poetry in locomotion
   That made you map out crazy

Agitates, oscillates, fluctuates
   Darkness, light or in the shadows

Tempestuous because you like
    The moody and absurd words

Poetry, the outlet of imagination
   For things that need to be written
Poetry needs no reasons
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