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 May 2013 Susan O'Reilly
JM
Here and now,
basking in the echoes
of your voice,
I feel your hands on me.

Hands I've never seen.

I run my fingers through
your ironed hair
and softly kiss your cheek
as the stains of memory
fade.

Toad legs and tattoos
intertwine; skin to skin,
we become one.

Within you, I shed
my shadows.
Surrounding me,
your fears fall away.

This is my here and now
as the night blooms
and sleep gathers dust.
Janice of red beret fame
with fair hair
to her shoulders
and dressed slightly better

than the rest
of there about
invited you
(with your mother’s

permission
and her gran’s invitation)
to tea after school
in the upstairs apartment

not far away
what did you want
for eats and drink?
Janice asked

bread and jam
you replied
bread and jam?
she repeated

as if you’d asked
for caviar on toast
no you must
have more than that

she said
Gran what’s for eats?
and her gran
came into the lounge

where the cosy furniture
was set out in place
neat and tidy
with a canary

in a cage
on a stand
and her gran related
a list of things

you could have
far exceeding
what you usually
had at home

cheese and cress
sandwiches
you said
please added on

as an afterthought
and Janice
had the same
to be like you

and her gran went off
and Janice said
she likes you
says you have more breeding

than some round here
o
you said
thanks

and you pushed
your hand
through your hair
and pulled

your school jumper
in place
and tightened
the tie

we’re going
to the fairground Saturday
will you come too?
you hesitated

and took in
her fair hair
and her fine features
and prim gaze

I’ll have to see
what my mum says
you uttered
o she won’t mind

Gran’s already
mentioned it I think
Janice said
well yes then

you said
I’d like that
she smiled
and spoke

of learning French
at school
and the teacher
who took her

for that and history
she’s a dear
and positively a beauty
I’ve got Ashdown

and she’s plump
and has an ****
like a hippo
you said

Janice choked
and sputtered
with laughter
all at the same time

that’s so rude
she said
putting her small hand
to her mouth

gosh don’t let Gran
hear to speak like that
or you’ll be off
her good boy list

as swift as lightening
you sat bemused
when her gran came in
with two plates

of sandwiches
what’s so funny?
she asked
putting the plates

on the table
o nothing much
Janice said
Benedict told me

a little joke
o well as long
as it wasn’t rude
Gran said

o no
Janice said
and looked at you
o no

you muttered
just a innocent joke
from school
her gran went off

to get the drinks
if Gran heard me
say thinks like that
she’d tan my backside

and no mistake
Janice took a bite
of her sandwich
and you ate yours

listening to the canary
sing and the bell it
rung inside the cage
and her gran singing

from the kitchen
in a soprano voice
and you took in
Janice’s light blue eyes

wherein you thought
but did not say
some good part
of beauty lies.
Indian Giver

I have these thoughts, deep inside my soul,
to not pretend, to not cajole,
and yet sometimes, beyond my sight,
I find that I have, this internal fight,
I give away, looking over my shoulder,
for that return of love, of the beholder,
and if for reason, whatever that it be,
this love is not returned, not returned to me,
I take back, what first I deliver,
I guess that makes me, an Indian Giver,
for if it true, there are no strings,
its just for caring and sharing brings,
release of all, selfish thoughts and acts,
I guess I'm no closer, no depth, just facts,
to giving freely, I still must learn,
or my internal hell, will forever burn

Gomer LePoet...
The term "Indian Giver" was unjustly given to the American Indian for taking back what was rightly there property to begin with, yet I applied the concept to this piece with no disrespect intended.
 May 2013 Susan O'Reilly
S D S
Alice whispers to me
The name of my hard-drive
With headphones in
And no sound playing
The little beeps
and fuzzy rasp
Reminds me of
Dear conversations
In a hushed murmur
About silly things
 May 2013 Susan O'Reilly
S D S
I am an honest man.
I love to be alone.
 May 2013 Susan O'Reilly
S D S
It's like a swarm
Of malevolent spectral butterflies
Green and black
Evil emanates
Corruption cascades
From each sickly flap
Of those tiny evil wings

It floats up
When you think you're perfectly safe
Calm and sane
Removing reason
Surmounting sensibility
At each cruel brush
Of a pair of hairy antennae

No one else
Believes there is a danger involved
Daft and Lucky
Blissful Blindness
Ignorant Innocence
Of the butterfly's bite
From its noxious proboscis

I saw a blossomed lotus
in  a blue  lake of love;
I plucked one of its petals
unknowingly.
later by dusk
it faded away
into your cheeks;
then it became
Your elegant face !
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsmaveli­.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
From MICROTHEMES, a collection of short poems, written by WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
 May 2013 Susan O'Reilly
S D S
The ******* part of me
It makes sleep impossible
It craves the basic things
Feeding it is impractical

I caged all my demons
The only tomb was my body
They gnaw at their bars
Now I have heart burn

This long battle of ethics
It hasn't made me happier
I know I have honor
I fear it is worthless

I gutted my romantic
His entrails became beautiful
My logic has new wallpaper
I miss being infatuated

I cleaned up my appearance
I covered it in fallacy
That make-up is acidic
My honesty is melting

When I lay down to rest
My beast screams for freedom
I hates its captivity
It must remained chained
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