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25/F   

Poems

Cat Fiske May 2015
he has a left handed base,
and I want to hear him play,

but he is in vermont,
for the winters,
but that's alright,
we can have the summers,

but I will be working,
and trying to get my truck I wanted,
and he will be waiting,
daily for me,

he will eventually get tired,
of waiting for me,
to hear him play,
right?

see,
I love him,
even though the last time I was with him,
my friend kicked his sack,

do I know why,
nope,
will he, she, or anyone tell me,
why they hell they were made at him?

nope...
but I love him,
I love his long hair,
and his honest mind,

I love how he doesn't call me pretty,
but still does with his eyes.
I love how he just means what he says,
and says what he means,

I love how he,
says he thinks he loves me,
and how he doesn't get mad when I cry,
I love when he holds me,

I love when he kisses me,
and kisses my neck,
and leaves marks,
to make sure I don't forget where he was,

I love how he doesn't make me **** him,
or **** his ****,
unless I want to,
but,

I hate,
how I won't get to hear his base,
still,
and how I miss him,
my baby :c
Sadie Kim  Jun 2015
One-sided
Sadie Kim Jun 2015
You mispronounce my name
You forget I'm lefthanded
I think this is just me
I think this is one-sided

Your warmth has dissipated
It left a hardness
Inside my chest,
Like a plum
Now pitted and pruned
But I still hope
To see you soon
Michael John  Oct 2023
in
Michael John Oct 2023
in
now we welcome a local poetess
i hope she ll forgive the generic
distinction
can ´t be too careful in these pc
times-a local girl cometo read
and discuss her work and her take on
things in general-i will not say
literally but but lily..!welcome'!

lily-thankyou?!
i don t think it matters if
i am a man or woman-

so have you always been
interested in words and poetry?

no,i spoke my first word early
but it became a mantra in
which silence became music
music and silence became me
the universe is a note-b-flat maybe..

your earliest memory

strange **** about rats but also
a study by fernando sor
used as an introduction to
tales of the riverbank
stretching worms
squeezing **** in my diapers-an
artists relation to his/her **** is
very important..picking up dust-
normal rights of passage..

and you became interested in poetry-when?

when i was about fifty-

quite an hiatus-what made you
write-

i felt like a time had come
like when i stopped drinking
home..i finally had something to say
an end a beginning..

now some words from those who pay
don t go away!



in the studio today is lily-
and tombola at the legion
and a buffet-so why? poetry?

-why do we create
it is partly memory
or fate

we celebrate our existence
and question that
and this

hate or empathy
for purists style
or beauty

entertainment!
money!
only joking!-

and how do you begin..?

motion
like i chop an onion
that leads to something

to the pan
and spaces that fry
in-between-

i might get an idea
the computer
something bothering

or disturbing
or amusing
like a keyboard

felicitates
clarity
i am lefthanded

for example and
wicked connotations
ensue

but my hand
like a spider and all
the angels

on the side of right
something surreal
or real..

ok..quite a broad church
then..?

who do you admire?

that is a question-!?
i like de la mare
edward lear
leonard cohen
ian dury-

a musician?

yes-well-i could nt
write without music
and so brave
a man-

well that leads us on
to a tune gil scot heron and
angel dust..
be back soon..!