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Oh my sweet dreams that
I still do have of my you
darling sweet dreams
of you, I'll always
have
But my soul still cries out
for you my darling when
I'm In my bed here at
night
all alone
even with the passing of time and all my tears for you my darling will never fully dry In my
eyes
from crying for you but Helen  you gave me enough strength In our time together, the strength that will see me to the end of days
but It doesn't stop my soul from crying for Helen when I'm laid at night In my bed all alone and that all my tears will never ever fully
dry
My soul cries out for Helen whilst Im laid In my bed at
night tears that know will.never fully dry
Lilli Sutton Apr 4
Thinking about silence. Or
learning that my voice doesn’t always need
to fill a room. Somewhere there is always
snow falling. Or coyotes fishing.
It’s like a dream. If I go too long
without looking it might disappear.
And then where would I be.
I want to keep everyone happy and alive
and quiet and soft. It’s like I’m the only one
in the museum. Or I’m always listening
to conversations that weren’t meant for me.
A passive way to hurt. I want to take the afternoons
and twist them until the answers come out.
I want it to make sense to you
in the way it does to me. When I get home
I’ll study the birds that live out west.
I want to already know them when I get there.
I’ve had enough surprises – I want to be a kid again
with a hand full of salamanders. Or digging
in the warm, wet earth for pill-bugs.
Universal memories. We waited hours
for the rain to pass and when the lights came on
we gazed in awe at our reflections.
03.14.19.
Johnny walker Mar 26
But I'll never In my life see her again sometimes wish I could gone with her Instead being left here to face life
without
her
But I'll to remain In this life long after she went In till such that my turn to leave
what In life what's left behind since she'been
gone
But In truth, I ask myself what Is there left here In this world that
truly
I would miss as much Helen apart from
family and few friends what would I be leaving behind
perhaps just an empty shell of my former self
and of what I used to
be
What In true apart family few friends there would not be to much nothing to compare with how I miss Helen
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018
why I love certain men


it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly

but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now ***** and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet

perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list

****.
new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say

Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)

I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
because
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions

they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,

what is the honorable thing?

this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end  
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,

what is the honorable thing?

some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted chemical organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient


here I stop

the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully

may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall

certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,  
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of

what is the honorable thing?

which by the by,

is why I love certain women too...

and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...

oh god, I do so love that best!

what could signal honor even more...
Tacopie5244 Mar 20
thats wrong
i just hate the class
its becuase she’s in it
and i can never focus
on the equations and logarithms
becuase
of the way she bites her lip
when trying to solve a problem
how she unconciously fiddles with her carcoal hair
    as she listens to her music
but most of all
becuase she smiles at the face behind me
     who happens to be her boyfriend

if i position myself correctly
its almost like she’s smiling at me.
Poetoftheway Mar 16
even tho the fire was never really lit truly human,
their tousled hair and sad eyed lowland blues owning the fullness of natural emptiness ain’t no crime, like a double negative,
to which no one no cares no objects when spoken

those bad boysenberries radiate a flirty tarty aure, venus fly traps
for those needy to do a saving, the sweets of the the three poems
memorized for wooing, oft another’s undoing, the top button
releasing a burning bush of chest heat
being misleading the  reddening cheeks

was a bad boy once of ill repute, daddies and mommies warning
their innocents of my word of mouth reputation, making me 100%
irresistible, so all forgot when climbing into my two-seater to go
moon gazing swooning,  learning the moves practiced in nightime

bad boys still need saving sooner but usually later, cause
moon gazing is still a thrill for his new audience of grand children,
proof that some of them boys are hiding well enough stuff
beneath their veneer

be the miner of a thousand years, teach these child boys well,
***** them open, let the empty escape and light rays spill in
**** if some of those bad boys grow up
now, just to be  bad poets laughing
at the foolishness of the early days of
discontented shortsightedness incontinence of a soul fumbling
I swear I meet fellow grandmothers who confirm the whisperings 3-16-19
Johnny walker Mar 13
There's never been a day that I don't think you, my love, for me that's what's true love Is all
about 
And although you're no here my love the love I have for you so strong an undying love for
you
There has never been a minute of any day my
love that I don't think of
you and to all, we used to
do
And this world Is a lesser place so and cold lonely  without you In It my
love
True joy that you bought all your loved ones who are left to face this life without you my
love
And so sadly missed by all my love but you have left to us such wonderful cherished lasting beautiful memories my
love
Forever In our hearts, you'll be my love, such love, you had for all no matter whoever they were my
love
A true love Helen gave to all who knew her and even those she didn't know she had time for everyone no matter who they were
Bohemian Mar 9
They stare lewd at you as if you stand *****,
Yet with their words how restrained they are to be polite.
Countless times I beg please don't take sweetheart away just
give me one more day
when we were both at
best

Even murderers get a
last wish but you lose
the love of your life and that there Is no second chance of a last wish

I guess If I had an opportunity to sell my
soul to Devil I be
granted one last wish
I don't dought for a
moment
given the chance I
would most certainly
say yes
Just a thought even murderers get a last wish we lose a loved one we get no wish no justice In this world
It pains me
to see
someone being treated
so poorly.
Everyone
should be treated even.
After all,
everyone has an opinion.
Everyone
has feelings and
everyone
has the right to keep on dreaming.
Right?
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