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Jim Davis Oct 5
The Moving Finger writes;
and, having writ
Moves on:
nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to
cancel half a line
Nor all thy tears
wash out a word of it.
Apropos for our profession of poetry I believe!  

From Wikipedia:  Omar Khayyam (/kaɪˈjɑːm/; Persian: عمر خیّام‎ [oˈmæɾ xæjˈjɒːm]; 18 May 1048 – 4 December 1131) was a Persian mathematician, astronomer, and poet.[3][4][5] He was born in Nishapur, in northeastern Iran, and spent most of his life near the court of the Karakhanid and Seljuq rulers in the period which witnessed the First Crusade.

The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics quotes the tradition that the Persian quatrain-form, the ruba'i, originated in the gleeful shouts of a child, overheard and imitated by a passing poet.
tremulous and tender, the crook'd finger
neither timid or tentative,*
yet trembles,
though it be from
care, not fear, consideration, not trepidation

the renegade finger strokes her sleeping cheek,
tender the tip to each cell beloved, as if sealing a bond
there is no more to say

when awakening comes, one will be gone,
with no note, thus this last soft stoking, outline stroking
tremulous and tender, his finger, U shaped-crook'd,
but he is no longer is her
you


he leaves, departing, yet lightly shaking,
no longer can he be her prized and proud claiming show-horse,
gone, that man she loved, for he cannot abide his being
called a former, dark glory, a bent cane spirit,
his body, its entirety,  
crooked by weight of an improvident provision,
not just his finger, this, his, 
a greater intolerable,
his pain of failure unacceptable
and shame searing,
his woe bends his love acrooked
Sumairupoetry Jun 20
She guided my fingers and told me to paint on her canvas.

Her moans were pleasantly loud as were they vibrant.

Fiery reds, deep blues, blinding whites and never ending blacks were just the tip of her color palette that night.
Philomena Jun 17
"It's caving in around me
What I thought was solid ground
I tried to look the other way
But I couldn't turn around
"It's ok for you to hate me
For all the things I've done
I've made a few mistakes
But I'm not the only one

Step away from the ledge
I'm coming down

I could never be
What you want me to
You pulled me under
To save yourself
You will never see
What's inside of me"
Philomena Jun 17
"I'm drowning in the bottom of a bottle.
Running from a man I swore I'd never be.
No one ever has to face tomorrow.
But I'm the one that has to face me.
It's the demons I've created for myself.
The tragic truth.
It's hard for me to understand myself.
So it has to be hard as hell for you."
Philomena Jun 4
"Hope I'm on the list of people that you hate
It's time you met the monster that you have helped create

...

It's hard not to be a menace to society
When half the population is happy on their knees"
my pointer finger
caresses her knuckles,
intervening between her fingers,
soft shell teasing,
sliding off her manicured fingernails,
in order that I return here
to lay down copious notes

I re-land inside the palm of her hand,
warm, a Caribbean beach smooth breezy sensation,
she wraps up my instrument of exploration
with a four finger grip, a signal fire
to escape, travel north up her arm
to the pause point of her bare shoulders,
where her body finally speaks,

why oh why, stop here,
skip, skip to my lou, lips,
my *******, jealous,
the ******* no less, now restless,
the rest of me requires
two hands, if, you can,
still caress with the best,
while typing with the pointy tip of your nose?
Building the ark when the flood has already come.
Using the finger nails of the drowned to hold it together.
Will this keeps us a float,
Or will we sink and join the dead below?
Random Thoughts
A M Ryder Feb 27
I am stone
I do not move

I take my time
I let him come closer

I have only a single bullet
I aim for his eye

I hold my breath
My finger presses on the trigger
I do not tremble

I have no fear
Johnny walker Feb 24
There are two rings on
my finger where once
there was only one for I wear my sweetheart ring
and I ware It with
my own
It's never taken off It will be on my finger until the day I die
There are two rings on
my finger where once there was only one, to
show the world I
still
love her and even though  she gone my love for her just as strong as It was when first laid eyes on
her
There two rings on my finger where once there was only one, for the appreciation of love
she gave to me and for the twenty years we spent as man and wife and our beautiful son she gifted
me
There two rings on my finger where once there was only one and that's where they shall remain for there will
never
be another Helen for she was truly special Irreplaceable one of a kind who never will be
forgotten
Two rings on my finger Helen's and mine for there will never be another she was truly one of a kind
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