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Francie Lynch Aug 2016
If you'd been here
When I was young,
You'd not forget
What we'd have done.

We'd climb roofs,
Jump in the river,
****** neighbour's pears,
Then skedaddle,
Laughing with sweat-matted hair,
Wiping off those grown-up cares.

We'd bumper-jump in four inch snow,
And never let our parents know.
Oh, such fun we two would do,
If I could stay as young as you.

We'd skate and bike,
Play street ball,
Act up in school,
Stand in the hall;
We'd hike with jars
Along country brooks,
Read and trade
Our comic books.
Lie in the sand,
Burn in the sun,
Forgetting it was time for home.
We'd never tire of our treats,
And often we'd forget to eat
Because we're having all our fun:
If you'd been here when I was young.

We'd play Tag and Red Rover,
Flags and Chase,
Then have sleep-overs.
We'd swap tomorrow
For daily pearls,
Then swap each other
For pretty girls.

We'd be up to our shenanigans,
Sleep the sleep,
Then start again.
This is the way
We'd have our fun,
If you'd been here
When I was young.

But now you're here,
And I'm much older,
The things we'd do
You'll do with others;
But when you need a  boost to climb,
This old man has a shoulder.
Yes,
I'll sure have lots of fun,
For you're here now.
That keeps me young.
For my new Grandson, Xavier (b. July 23rd.)
Thanks for all your readership and support. I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed the write. Peace.
Daniel James Feb 2011
Somewhere between the age of 12 and 13
Kitty became a make up queen
Each time she turned up at the door
She’d more make up on than before
Her parents could not figure out why
She slapped it on, she piled it high
From orange ears to blue shaded eyes
From red lips to black butterflies
After a while her poor little face
Had more layers to it than a wedding cake
So she made some changes to her routine
Got up each day at four fifteen
Skipped breakfast, hopped in and out the shower
Which left, for make up, a mere three hours
This worked well for a little while
Until a teacher remarked she’d lost her smile
At which point in her heart she knew
She’d need an extra hour or two
To don her make up every day.
So she started arriving at school quite late
At nine at first, but soon midday
Light’s nice at that time anyway.

Then one day, a rather dashing lad
Offered to help her carry her bags.
Now Kitty thought he’d cussed her eyes,
So she slapped him and ran home to revise
Her make up routine, before she cried
And ruined her mascara.

Now this rather dashing handsome lad
Could not help feeling he’d been had
He stood there red as blush itself
And swore he’d fall for someone else.

Kitty meanwhile, back at home
Was swotting up on her skin tone
And trying every shade of white
To hide the scars of sleepless nights.
“I’ll teach that lad, that dashing lad –
I’ll be something he has to have
He’ll want me so much he’ll carry my bags
With weights in them that break his back!!!”
And with a slightly evil laugh,
Her plan was made, the die were cast.

We rejoin Kitty five days on
After a five day make up marathon
Her skin-tone matched, her bags are gone
Except her school bag, which weighs a tonne –
But at the school gate, something’s wrong
Hang on, where is everyone?
Oh Kitty, Kitty, oh Kitty cakes
That is an embarrassing mistake
You’re not early, they’re not late –
You’ve come to school on a Saturday!

Ablush with embarrassment and all alone
Kitty’s mascara ran all the way home
And all the foundations and eye-shadow pens
Couldn’t put Kitty together again.
But just at the corner before her own street
Outside the corner shop, who should she meet?
But the boy, not the boy, the rather dashing young lad
Who was sat on the fence by the shop looking sad
Looking sad, looking blue, looking ever so glum
Like it wasn’t that long since he last ****** his thumb.


At first as their paths crossed they were both destined
Not to look in each other’s direction
But luckily old cupid used light and reflections
To swap left and right with two moment's intersecton
The arrow was fired, the sightline was true,
Said the boy, "What a perfectly red shade are you!
Without your mascara, without those lips too -
You look even hotter than you usually do!"

"Am I bovverred?" Said Kitty, looking bothered as could be.
"Well you do look a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said he.
"Well I am a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said she.

"Why don’t we make up and then I’ll walk you home?"
"Then we can hang out and we won’t be alone"
"I’ll give you the pin to my blackberry phone"
"We’ll sync up our wardrobes and match our skin tones"
"I’ll friend you on Facebook". "I’ll call you at night".
"I’ll take you nice places." "I’ll treat you right nice."
“You will”, said Kitty? "I will," said he,
“But first let me start my repeating my offer
To carry your school bag if you can’t be bovvered.”
“My school bag said Kitty,” repeating the offer
“To carry one of my school bags if I can’t be bothered?”

Now this time, Kitty had understood right
So she took off one of her school bags, and put it down by her side
“Long story, don’t ask…” She said with a pout,
And she gave him one, of her bags, once she took the weights out.
Mokomboso  Oct 2014
Hair
Mokomboso Oct 2014
My hair is a mop hanging over my crown
The shade of standard mammalian brown
I am envious of your tresses
Over your face is a redheaded swirl,
Gradating into your dreadlocked shawl
Tendrils of auburn drag along the floor like a high wizard’s gown
If I had your hair I would knot each section into braids
Weave it with bobbles and beads
I could take a curler to my cape, straighteners to my legs
I’ve always been a fan of the redhead, pre-Raphaelite waves
Reds and yellows and oranges cascade
You take it to another level though, and boy
It is most enviable!
I would ask that we swap, but with my fur pattern you’d look quite odd
With a blackish flannel hanging on your head
And the odd patch of wiry moss 'tween your legs
And I must say I would look a bit daft
With a crimped ginger trench coat swamping my back!
So I shall just say, Mr. orang-utan
Your hair is great!
Orangutans have badass hair. That is all.
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Freddy S Zalta Jan 2015
The sun set at its appointed time, 438pm - setting a race towards the end.
Drinks were drunk,
Emotions were triumphed, kisses were exchanged and the moon was flying high.
A swap of fluid and hands were held - the countdown began and the ball it fell.
A kiss goodnight, a sad goodbye, then relief and empty bed, a welcomed sight.
A slow progression towards the rising and at 721am it happened without a warning.
A reset of the timer - from 12/31 to 01/01.
Time to start again and try to enjoy the time that will come.
****** just needed to write
Jonathan Moya Sep 2020
Let me swap your window view with mine.
Better yet, let me open a new window
anywhere in the world:

Swap my clouds with the widow Lotta
that delights in the sight of six boys skipping
on the edge of an Amsterdam canal

who then furtively disappear into
the dark wide open doors of the
*** Palace Peep show across the street.

Swap my lonely rainy sky with Bess the
matronly Cotswold poet courting Badgers
to fight over tossed scraps of Savory Pie.

Swap my lulling dark with Akhenaten
gazing at the sacred African ibis as they
chant and soar over the Pyramids of Giza.

Exchange my blue with Jean Paul
watching yellow turn red to gray night
in time-lapse from his Cassis maison.

Barter my coffee for Rakesh’s tea
and his Hindi copy of the Yajur Veda like
a still life posed on a blue  window ledge.

Ransom unbargained Chiara’s Roman tableau
in red clay tiles surrounding a blood bell tower
beautiful enough for a young Da Vinci’s pastels.

Exchange breaths with Kiko as she panics
when a Tokyo bullet train convulses through,
a reminder of both our unstable lives,

Until memories of Mary dancing in the  
downpour of a Manhattan summer shower
fall through the hospitals, the last goodbyes—

until there I am, a scared little boy
starring out my bedroom window
awaiting dawn for another chance

to splash in the blue blue kiddie pool,
walk in the un-paned grass, shouting
to the white sky that follows me always.
Zywa  Oct 2023
The swap
Zywa Oct 2023
In the evening I like to walk
through the streets, looking
at the people in their houses
and then I wonder who
I would like to swap with

and what kind of swap that would be
What do I give and what do I get?
A soul for a soul, maybe
not to keep forever
but, who would want mine

with all its consequences?
Of course I don't get an answer
A bird on a street-lamp
is looking at me, it's night
so it doesn't sing

whether it's free or captive
it doesn't sing, because it's night
But we're not alone now
and I'd like to swap with it
Yes, I did
Song "The Deal" (2023, Mitski, album "The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We")

Collection "Reaching out"
Arcassin B Jun 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

Got off on the wrong foot,
What would it be like if it was cut off,
We dip . drop. Roll. Stop,
Watch the flower grow a little then spit swap,
I swear I'll wait for you on longest journeys,
I swear I'll wait for you on your worst days too,
But on your good ones,
You love the right one,
But he went left,
He was different than the **** ones,
Bisexual beauty sitting in a croptop,
We dip . drop. Roll. Stop,
Watch the flower grow a little then spit swap,
Pretty as you are,
You know I want you baby,
The silence ain't a thing,
Elevated and Slightly fit with rabies,
Foaming out and finding things to lick,
Petals covered in you saliva,
And sweat under you arm pits,
You were an angel in disguise,
A troublesome full of lies,
Only tied to things you can't deny,
Unless your memories are bought,
We dip . drop. Roll. Stop,
Watch the flower grow a little then spit swap,
Let's start over,
My names Arcassin,
Nice to meet you in this disaster,
Its souly a situation,
Your smile brings me to tears,
I'm so weirdly mistaken,
The raspyness in your voice,
Sure knows how to leave a guy shaken,
Pretty dresses swishing over flower beds,
****** stare as we sing the Beatles,
Nails in my back like pins and needles,
Im just starting over but ill do what ever it takes to get those feels,
But as soon as you thought I forgot,
We dip . drop. Roll. Stop,
Watch the flower grow a little then spit swap.
Love can be sometimes crazy.
Traveler  Sep 2018
Sister Swap
Traveler Sep 2018
I can’t believe you could be so  extremely unfaithful to me
You’re almost my brother
Is my wife up for grabs on the side

Something I never told you buddy oh pal
Once when I was working with your wife (My sister in law) she questioned me about her attractiveness  and how **** I Rated her to be
I knew right then your beautiful wife wanted a kiss from me
I’ve watched her for so long, after all she is my sister-in-law. Yet I’ve seen her clear,
And because of you I kept my distance
A gentle man
Gives no resistance
If you do have my wife
I assure you
Your beautiful wife is mine!
You can have her back later
And one of my future rhymes.
Traveler Timothy

Drunken brother-in-law
Kimberley Leiser Jan 2020
Sue was reading a raunchy magazine in bed; ted was cuddling up to her and watching telly
sue: "have you ever thought about trying some role play"
Ted: " what kind?"
Sue: "not the anime kind if that's what your thinking how about we just swap clothes - I wear what you wear and I'll be ted for the whole day and you wear what I'm wearing and be sue"
Ted: "Yeah we could try that sure sounds fun"
Sue: "brilliant I will leave you one of my dresses, some make up  and we will swap clothes for the whole day.

Sure enough the next day Sue left a note before she went to work on Ted's bed with a box. It had some of her lipstick, some eye shadow also a lovely floral dress for Ted to try while she was at work. It was a perfect size 14 fit; Ted prepared his make up the way sue usually did every morning and was surprised by the very person who was staring at him in the he mirror his once chiselled masculine features were now more delicate and feminine He shaved his beard off and even went as far as shaving his legs as instructed by her. He felt more excited as the day went on his **** growing in size he smelt sue's ******* they were fresh but there was a whiff of sue still in them when he put them over his **** he started to rub his **** up and down over her ******* then put on her fish net tights and finally her high heel shoes.

He secretly had fantasies of doing this  as a teenager but he often too scared of getting caught out by his mum. He got as far as trying on her make up wearing her perfume and trying on her tights and when she asked if he had seen them he said came up with an excuse they were lost in the washing machine.

Sue came back from work wearing Ted's shirt, his boxer briefs and trousers smelling of his lynx body spray. She even went as far as buying
a beard to reenact the role play of being Ted for the day it was very convincing and she looked how he looked there in another suitcase also stood a huge plastic ***** shaped perfectly as a ****

"Ted  " you know where that is going don't you"
"Sue "Yes I can't wait"

The transformations were complete Sue now as Ted started to caress sue kissing her neck and licking her ear lobes she gave out a shriek of delight speaking more in her most feminine voice. Ted then went down on her ******* her **** she felt hard as rock she could feel his breath warm and moist in full ******* motion; in this form Ted's short arms felt they grew longer and were more sturdy started to rub her **** up and down she gave out a squeal and *** more than what she usually did.  
Finally ted soaked sue's ******* in baby oil: give it a little cheeky lick before equipping his ***** **** into sue's ****. Sue held her breath for a few seconds as he pushed it in with some good throbbing movements she gave out a huge yelp and could then feel the ecstasy of *** spilling out
"Ted - wasn't that fun know you can go back to the way you was any time"
"Sue - Yeah I did enjoy it too will definitely do it again.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
for Ali, Ali, Ali, a daughter by any other name
                                                        (April 2014)
Dear Nat,

your letter caught me up,
at the Village Vanguard bar,
so addressed and there saved,
knowing, believing it's a sign,
time to meet fleshed again,
my sometimes sub-let
neighborhood friend

doing a gig there
this weekend
finishing up the tour
where it all began,
nothing gonna change my mind,
in the city that's where I'm staying.

the road is calling out my name,
but I ain't walking out the door anytime soon,
they want too much body and soul,
but don't worry once or even twice,
got some cash, it's all right

early afternoon, bar empty,
got a few rainy minutes,
got me paper n' pen
and a beer, from the
bar man who also gets
me whatever else I need (haha)

sorry I missed you in Cleveland,
you, back in New York when
I'm finally out your way,
ain't just like fate,
to make us ache so all alone

read your lyrics,
made making some suggestions,
like a baby's new clothes,
lots of bows, a few lines fell
down onto the floor
can't be found
like broken pearls on a dance floor

J. sends regards,
told her what you wrote about
A Long Black Veil, she laughed,
promises she will wear one
when next we all three meet

touring was good and hard,
traveling time is writing time,
but sitting here thinking
how many years have passed and gone
since we first met,
so many roads different taken
by many a first friend,
each one I've never seen against,
let's not that happen to us

rail riding done for awhile,
see ya back on Bleecker Street,
if we're still "cool"
we'll have that fire burning!
Ok, we'll swap some  lines, fine,
but I want, claiming dibs
on that ole easy chair

P.S. got the rent money covered till your return in the summer

Bobby
April 1968
~~~~~~~~~
Between 1968 and 1973,
split my time tween Cleveland and NYC,
before returning to ny full time in the summer of '71.

I lived at 352 Bleecker,
above the long gone
but now moved to Brooklyn,
Pink Teacup restaurant. The eyetalian bakery on the corner of Bleecker and Seventh Ave., long time gone...almost fifty freaking years ago...anyway...I think the stain glass window is still there, gonna have to check it out...shoot forgot about Google Earth!
The 352 Blues

this city treats the poor
with swift unkindness,
but if you peel your eyes,
you don't necessarily have to always
sing the ole 352 Bleecker Blues

the eyetalian storekeeper,
gives us morning java,
when we sing for him on the guitar,
The Star-Spangled Banner,
refills, if we add America the Beautiful

they say that heat rises,
but that don't seem true
in our third floor walk up
on rue 352 Bleecker Street,
the cold companion enters
thru the busted stain glass window

no matter, no cares,
we light the fireplace,
with wood and anything that'll burn,
we scavenged from the street,
pallets and newspapers,
yesterday's 352 truths

at two AM, the cops, in their cars
cooping, fast asleep, only just us,
the johns, the ****** and troubadours,
walking the streets looking for
free stuff to burn

pass the hat for tips
next to the arch,
enough for daily bread
but we get our ***** and ****
for free, just for singing the 352 blues

even when down and out
on the village streets,
bleak on Bleecker street,
you gotta sing the 352 blues,
especially when you're
riding high and living cool,
down on easy Bleecker Street
~~~~~~~
Before you ask me if this true,
save your breath,
the answer is
Which part?
Àŧùl Apr 2013
Warning: This is not a nursery rhyme for the fainthearted.

The promise lit by life,
Was actually lit by your lies.
Owwwww!
My forehead is mine I am made to realize,
Realization comes painfully when I bang the wall.
Sssssssssss!
****** I am hurting myself but that's all,
Never stupidly brave enough to actually finish it.
FREE ME!
I request that entity to let me live my life,
Cursed wasn't how I wanted to survive.
Ouch!!
The misgivings are just that bit too much,
As though a beehive fell on my head as much.
BANG-BANG-BANG!!!
I bang my head to the tune which I play,
And I am unable to bang it on a wall.
Peace is what I get finally
Cursed is how I live my life every day,
Talking to walls like concentrated prisoners.
I dare you to swap it with me!
Yes! Swap your life with me right now,
If you can't walk with me for the mile.
Whispers
The mile I dreamt with you,
The smile you promised,
The mile of my life.

Forget about it

I'm just joking about the swap,
I'm no Devil,
You can't live how I live because,
It's my life,
And I'm happy with as much I got,
I've to breath alone,
There must be some serious curse on me,
I accept that curse.
Loving people and then losing them is a ritual,
I must live alone like a hermit.
But you can live on talking only with the darker,
Idol-worshiping him only.
Enjoy with his pictorial representations & idols,
Only one darker idol can you find.
This is why I averse myself from idol-worshiping,
Because it destroys relations.
I lost not only my telephonic-best friend,
But also my real life best friends started avoiding me.
Not an idol-worshiper is a blasphemous term,
In her religion, in Hinduism.
It destroys relations if you start loving your idols,
And if you even start living like your idols.
You never did quite understand what Ishwar/Bhagwan/Rabb/God actually meant.

All the best with your Kanhaiya,
I wish you all the happiness,
And hope that He gives you what I couldn't,
Let your imagination work wonders for you.
Note that this poem was the last among my sad series and now I'll mostly post happy poems.
My HP Poem #196
© Atul Kaushal

— The End —