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Steve Nov 26
Harry and Larry
Both fancied Gary
But it was Barry
Gary would marry
.
.
.
In February
Partners in rhyme.
n-khrennikov Oct 25
Death and love dancing together,
In her youthful and strong body.
Her hand is like paper,
soft velvet
you meet in the wild flower petals,
Her lips sad and chapped
with poetry wheel she wrote
How much in the darkness, it is heart bulb
as the stars share unforgettable joy!

Death and love
kiss her lips
let go of desire for life,
Because two people can not distinguish,
in the dance blew all three.
n-khrennikov ©

Memorialize:  Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963).
Paul-Dieter Aug 21
I wonder if February
Was chosen to be the month of love
Because it's the shortest...
Sam Aug 6
Her words hung to frost
in the Moon-White air.
There I fell,
steel-cold in their presence.
The allure of longing
a familiar solace
only February bring.

An empty tongue,
bent to hiss all the shapes of
unripened promise
that burden green on a winter tree;
behind torch eyes
that bleed memories
down to the wick.

I could lend ear
never tire of our solitude.

I yearn for that colourless sun,
where streets not blushed pink
from summers lick
but wind cuts brick grey
and windowpanes orange with laughter.

For in such black months
we birth anew,
flowers breathe colour
to dead roots
and the busy people
calm to a welcoming halt.

A full/virtually complete update to my previous post.
The frost is still there,
Throttling the rhododendron leaf,
And ice stalls the dissolve
Of the stone-like snow,
Yet I am happy.

The sun-rays are almost Etruscan,
Filtered low through lace and blind,
Like that ***** of sunset on Irene’s hair
Sad “couleur de feuille-morte”.
Yet it is sultry.

I can open a window
And breathe the warming air
Finches flock close, careless,
Now desperate for food
And pluck menescent fruit
Off an ice-bound branch.
In the distance, a cardinal sings.

Thick drapes are drawn aside
And geraniums strain toward the light.
In a nook outside the door,
An old cat basks on a corner of sun.
He yawns, seeing me, and strolls across the snow.

All nature seems to wait, but poised,
For the final unfettered token.
Will it be a sudden, favonian breeze?
Or the robin’s unrelenting noise?
Telling us, “Winter is broken”?
This is pretty obvious: it was one of those days in winter which seem so close to spring.
today I walked through the february streets
gazed into the sky staring into the distance
in the distance of his soul and his world
in the distance of all this incredible beauty

today I walked through the february streets
and felt incredible love
she completely filled my heart
I became much happier and brighter

today I walked through the february streets
and recalled the past and future
remembered how the moments and inspirations went
remembered the sand and the sea

today I walked through the february streets
and was finally at peace
after so much suffering and trials
finally I finally found love and freedom

10.02.18
11 | Heartbreak in Hatfield

We made passionate love during that one autumn night in Pretoria.
Our relationship had its flaws but we always got high off the euphoria.
Somehow the best part of me was always you, but you’re gone now and I’m always feeling blue.
It was a Friday night on April 1st, I guess I was a fool for falling for you and believing all you said was true.
You may have forgotten me ever since I’ve been away but I waited on you for too many days since February.
Why did you settle for a takeaway when you knew you would’ve had the world on a silver platter?
Now that you’ve left, I realised how you were right when you said that I deserve someone better.
But where is this “better” that you constantly spoke about days before you broke up with me?
I cannot seem to find it; I even went back to Hatfield several months ago to see if I had missed something.
I have been MIA on love ever since you’ve been away; I waited on you for too many days since February.
Or maybe it was May, but you don’t care and I don’t remember because maybe it doesn’t matter anyway.
Or anymore and lately I’ve been zoning out to Paramore and getting high off paper planes than ever before.
Somehow the best part of me was always you, but you’re gone now and I’m always feeling blue.
I guess I was a fool for falling for you and believing all you said was true.
Paramore – Ain't it Fun
I’ve been MIA since you’ve been away; I keep walking around with my head in the clouds and getting high off paper planes.
Give me a pen and a notepad and allow me to document all the unforgettable memories we should’ve shared.
All the memories we should’ve shared never came to fruition because half the time you hardly cared.
It has been a while since I’ve heard from you, too many days since February.
Too many days since I’ve been patiently waiting so I had to give up eventually.
You had me under the impression that you actually gave a **** about me.
You gave me the impression that you cared about what we shared, but half the time you were never there.
I’ve been feeling hollow like the men T.S. Eliot wrote about, I’ve been feeling pain just to hold on.
But how long can I keep holding on when all this pain and depression is gradually affecting me?
How long can I keep holding on when all this pain becomes an indication of everything that’s bound to go wrong?
All the memories we should’ve created never came to fruition because half the time you were never there.
It has been a while since I’ve heard from you, too many days since February.
Too many days since I’ve been patiently waiting so I had to give up eventually.
How long can I keep holding on when all this depression becomes a reflection of everything that’s bound to go wrong?
I keep walking around Pretoria with my head in the clouds while getting high off paper planes with my feet on the ground.
"Since you’ve been away, love's been MIA..."
duncan Apr 23
i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you **** a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the **** i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.
this is a little long
and more of a ramble than anything ive written before
its also my 100th poem on this site
so i just want to say thanks
to all that have listened
and to all those that have said kind things
they dont go unnoticed
and i am very appreciative.
this community has done a lot for me
and i have a big project coming soon
that im excited to share
if youre willing to listen.
thank you
i love you
*** bless.
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