In a class of six you are the only male student
You are charismatic, intelligent and prudent
Your dark hair smartly matches your glasses
You and I are here the closest out of all the classes
With a girl to boy ratio of 5:1
I'm surprised that you haven't dated anyone
But after all I'm the only one who's into men
So it's really a 1:1 ratio if you think about it then
You take care of me the best
You disinfect only my table not the rest
I have no difficulty finishing your sentence
Our laughing fits are distractingly tremendous
In double Chemistry we have developed chemistry
Borrowing my pens seems like your priority
I've no doubt that you love thinking more than loving
But I'm just like that too, it's really showing
I could have just imagined it all
Maybe our talk is shockingly small
Maybe you don't care about me
But maybe our Chemistry was meant to be...
Chemistry is more than just a school subject 😉😘🧪🧫🧬
In a wordy battle with trivial dogmatic mentalities , I win by sandwiching my perspectives between my upper lip tubercle and lower lip tubercle.
A brink of clouded moonlight
amongst oranges and blood-kissed red tucked away between headstones
with stories longing to tell
The space between the Mallee roots
is where the fire breathes in the grate
it slowly stirs and shifts
and shows it is alive
and full of nothing more
than its smoky-scented heat
and blood-red glowing coals.
© M.L. Emmett
Fire watching on a cold afternoon
It's like a catalyst
Where I'm running out of words
Because the words I can't say
Feeling old while I'm drinking coffee
Feeling young absorbed into a book
Almost feeling me when I
Reach that space
There's a moment staring at the tv
Excited because someone got kissed
Seconds when I write a sentence
Knowing it's nonsense
But there's a pause
And falling to one side
(My back acting up)
(Giggling while I run)
Searching for a domestic peace
Being pushed to the side
Tensions that shouldn't exist
Tensions that aren't seen by anyone else
Pulling away in an effort to walk the line
Searching for a balance
In between the tension
It feels like a catalyst
Like something I don't know yet
When I view a sunset,
A burning bright red sunset,
or look upon the horizon
between the land and water,
I am reminded of Ancestors’ stories
of the betwixt and the between.
Neither one or the other.
Not this one, nor that one,
But the place in between.
The Betwixt and the between two different worlds
Betwixt and between waking and sleeping.
Betwixt and between dusk and dawn.
Betwixt and between the upper and lower.
Betwixt and between Heaven and hell.
A place of intrigue, mystery and wonder
If you dare
So much as to take a peek.
But it’s beyond most people’s imaginations
To ever go as far as
The betwixt and the between
This poem is based on a comment in a photography group I’m in, which had more meaning than I understood at the time
Between life and death, there is only a tiny thread.
Between sorrow and happiness, there is only a door.
In between love and hatred, there is only a gap.
Who knows what the next sunrise will bring? In a twinkling of an eye, everything can change for good or worse.
Just because you don't want to live
Doesn't mean you want to die.
It's a pity there's no in-between.
It's one or the other.
You're either dead or alive.
Lost sense of humour
Lost in time
Lost in between