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William Troup Nov 10
From my quill, words do flow
   in a perfected stream, or sullen craft?
   Yet while my vision does linger on,
   this heart turns to bread.

From my quill, dreams do show
   in a reflective glow, or swallowed time?
   Yet while my soul beseeches a dawn,
   this heart turns to bread.

   My words may adorn a page,
      an eve, a morn, or fallacies fought in tears!
   My words may beget a stage,
      a play, a way, or raptures fraught in fear!

From my quill, time does go;
   is my heart still destined to be but bread?
Eileen H Oct 23

i hope you never learn this:
when you find someone to live for,
it sometimes feels like dying.

there are some lessons a mother
cannot teach you

there are some sayings
that are lies.
completely edited the original XD
Eileen H Oct 23
Funny how
they never tell you,

When you find someone to live for,
it sometimes feels like dying.
Turns out I've been New Yorker for a while
But I tend to other business and I doubt I'll path the mile
For you see the city where I'm from is dense with garbage piles
I figured it's big and confusing and it's yet to make me smile
I don't come from there or from its region or really from a place worthwhile
See, my place is vast and I don't get it, it changes fast and is hostile
And I just can't key into it, neither mainland, nor the isle
So I figured that a Prague boy has been a New Yorker for a while
You ever felt suffocated in whatever town you live in? As though it were a metropolis...
Tony Tweedy Apr 2
I found my autobiography on the fiction shelves in the town library!?
Sometimes the things we do and see others will never face or know in their reality.
Through the dark years

For better or worse
ignorant, trusting
It was the kind of thing
that happened
to other people
not us
Our bond was strong
a lasting love

He tried to hide
His mistress

Betrayed, how brazen
Right under my nose
WHY did he give her
His soul ?

Sneaking out
to get a taste of her
laughing in delight
She gave her all

The smell of her
lingers on his lips
fooling no one
except himself

Lying  eyes
standard denial

I found them together
as he was
just finishing her

Caught in the act
I had to see  
who stole my man

Face to Face
stunned, disbelief
I could never compete
measure up
I knew her name
1985 It was the first year of my marriage my husband said he didn’t drink anymore and he was sneaking alcohol I thought it was going crazy I smelled him he said I was paranoid and then I found him and called him in the act and I wrote this poem
Jenny Gordon Mar 10
Okay, okay.  


Ah, listen to the Scriptures as fr'intents
All that was day's gone to the dogs, in pale
Excuse for wanting now to write.  What'd hail
When I was working, had no time, and thence
Thought to ink later?  Blue skies cleared, a sense
Of April winked back through pine shadows, frail
Upon the melted snow's erm, puddles' tale,
And sparrows called for half a minute, whence?
How first John answers all that'd muddle fer
The umpteenth time what I erst thought I knew.
This vain dream I had thought was living, poor
As aught excuse, is only that:  dreams.  Do
We hear what Thou set'st 'fore us in this tour
Of breathing?  O that we'd walk, LORD, with You.

Laugh at me because I am learning to acknowledge finally that those simple childhood dreams of following in my precious mother's footsteps are impossible by now...Death leering at me, as "olde maid" is securely stamped across my profile.
Javanne Dec 2018
When you open your mouth
I am pierced
by cupids bow
all through my core
I become a field
Of blooming poppies

When you open your mouth
My ears ring gentle
To every verse you sing to me
No orchestra can ever hope
to top your melodies

But when you open your mouth
You tell tale of another
that isn't me
and my chest concaves
My heart quiet
I was trapped in an illusion
How disgusting of me
Ahh I read it aloud too if any of you want to hear it read:
Yenson Aug 2018
How can my eyes hunger for tormentors bodies
where in my soul can I find desires for sadists
Eves threw on fitted coats of Marquis de Sade
borrowed his manuals and added even more pages
pierced the heart of a Dove defending his nest with lethal pins
And in joyous indignities with devilment aplomp
they reclined and crackled in wanton doltishness
He thinks of and desires us and wants to make amor with us

How can a heart marinated in love truely sincere
a soul ready to die rather than any harm to Eves
Be mother or sister or perchance even a stranger
alas in utter ******* and grotesque situation dire
Come undone with healthy pristine heart ripped to pieces
hung drawn and quartered and sliced in tiny morsels
Like fish baits for mice and minnows or hens clucking
All at the hands of Sirens who worshipped in Satan's cravens

How can a soul with only the spark of Salvation aglow
where it once housed his heart and enduring humanity
With brimful joy and devotions in fitting measures true
as all Eves where to him nowt but sisters and earth angels
Now his burning blood runs cold like rivelets in the Arctic
their words ring hollow and smiles shows rapiers of snakes
Nothing stirs desires for all Eves now seem and look like wicked corpses
Delilahs' wrecking vengeance on Samsons in wickedness supreme

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( Oh..please give over and go ply your delusions somewhere else, says I )
Blade Maiden Aug 2018
You crave interaction
Not just a mere distraction
Lonely from the bottom
of your soul that is rotten
You are adored by a person
you love this version
Then it all goes wrong
And you crave another one
who's not there
you look but don't know where
Lonely from the bottom
of my soul that is rotten
How to keep a heart
How to be a part
of a me & you
and who?
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