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You can call it love
That I know for sure
But, I think it is something else
Something so much more

It's a feeling like no other
You know it when it hits
It's when two things go together
When it's perfect, when it fits

You know the special feeling
It makes you feel quite whole
It's like you've been down to the crossroads
You made a deal and sold your soul

It may just come by once in life
I got lucky, it came twice
The first time, on a frozen pond
When my blades cut up the ice

It was peaceful, perfect, flowing
The ice and I were one
I'd be out there from sun up
Until the day was done

I remember people cheering
Those cheers forever will I hold
This was what I wanted
The feeling was pure gold

Time went by like normal
I had the feeling, but not quite
I found love, but, it was different
Even though it felt so right

Like I said, it's different
Because it doesn't love you too
It's not like loving someone
I can't explain it quite, can you?

Like I said, for some folks
It may come by them twice
I'm am blessed it happened
This time off the ice

You know when in a movie
The sunbeam comes down from the sky
And lights up something special
You know the scene, don't lie

The hockey was my vision
But there was something missing still
I loved the feel of freedom
But, there was something missing still

It Michigan it hit me
It caught me by surprise
I was looking at guitars one day
It hit me hard between the eyes

Worse than any check I'd felt
Worse than popping out a knee
A old Washburn guitar
Was hanging, taunting me

Of all the things upon the wall
All the guitars holding court
This Washburn said you want me
More than playing at your sport

I took it down and held it
Like the first woman that I'd had
It's curves gave me that feeling
It made me feel quite glad

This guitar's full of music
Full of songs to still be sung
Stories of others and my lifetime
Maybe this poem will be one

Most people get the feeling
In their lifetime once or twice
I got mine later with the Washburn
I still get it on the ice.
I wrote this for a friend who tried to describe to me about playing pro hockey, and how his love of playing guitar has been reignited.
Luna May 17
Honey brown eyes
Yet cold as ice
Whenever
They look into mine
They look straight into my soul
They are of those kind
Those brown eyes
Whenever meet mine
They looked lost and amazed
Filled with enormous emotions
But precise same vibe as wine
I'd get drunk drown and lost in them
Till I feel sick and fine
At the same time
So many truths
Your  lips defies
But brown of your eyes
Never lies.
rk May 14
she dances
with the winter dew
in her hair
silver moonbeams
gently kissing her skin
carried by the wind,
she speaks
and the stars
sing along in unison
following her
into the unknown.
Ainsley May 8
Hope my hope on hoping
my trust trusting your trust
Makes me wonder ......
why are you delaying??
Mommy you promised me
An ice cream if i cleaned my room...
Do you love ice creams?? What's your favourite flavour??
LC Apr 28
neither.
her body froze over,
attempting to protect her.
it became a block of ice,
waiting for him to leave.
when he did,
she slowly, carefully
chipped at the ice.
some parts of her
are still frozen,
but she's walking
towards the sun.
#escapril day 27!
freezing is a common response to trauma, and what happened was not your fault. it was your body trying to protect you.
The man from the sea
Salty, wind-blown hair
Wood-worn hands from the ships
Eyes to see land along the horizon
Mouth to sing with the voices of the waves
Rocking, iron legs, made for the sea

The man from the trees
Tangled, leaf-filled hair
Calloused hands from climbing
Eyes to see disguises in the branches
Mouth to sing with the melodies of the birds
Jumping, strong legs, made for the trees

The man from the sands
Sandy, dried-out hair
Nimble hands from the ropes and silky sand
Eyes to see amidst the light from the sun
Mouth to sing with the cat-calls of the burning winds
Moving, steady legs, made for the sands

The man from the grasses
Sweaty, sun-scorched hair
Paper-cut hands from weaving through the blades
Eyes to see danger amidst the weeds
Mouth to sing with the whispers of the rustling stalks
Skipping, quick legs, made for the grasses

The man from the river
Dripping, slicked-back hair
Smooth hands from the flowing water
Eyes to see fish amongst the rocks
Mouth to sing with the sound of flowing water
Slow-moving, quiet legs, made for the river

The man from the mountain
Thick, shadow-covered hair
Hard hands from the heavy stones
Eyes to see distantly from the mountaintop
Mouth to sing with the tumbling rocks
Trodding, stout legs, made for the mountain

The man from the ice
Frozen, ice-cold hair
Blue hands from the frostbite
Eyes to see places where the surface is thin
Mouth to sing with the crackling of the frozen ground
Tip-toeing, careful legs, made for the ice
Which one is you??
Ivy Leigh Apr 15
I didn't knock it over,
although I almost did.
I intended it for another
and I cleaned it to be ready for them.
I used it for my drinking,
but thought it might be nice
to see it in the hand of my lover
to drink water and chew the ice.
Casey Apr 9
My favorite season
is the bite of the wind as it brushes your cheeks.
It's the cushioning of a purposeful fall.
It's the muted gray skies and the hush of the world.
It's the crunch of the frozen fractals that support and keep you from falling in.

My favorite season
is the echoes of voices bouncing from the trees,
the only sounds to be heard.
It's the coze of a warm drink and the crackles and pops of the fireplace.

My favorite season is the temporary loss of visible life
until only by my favorite season's death
does the world start to breathe once again.
Prompt was to represent our favorite season.
annh Apr 7
You caught my eye but once,
You caught me eye but twice,
Then popped them in a cocktail glass,
And topped it up with ice.

Vermouth you added first,
And then a shot of gin,
A squeeze of lime, a dash of tea,
With salt around the rim.

‘One martini coming up!’ you drawled,
You slid it down the bar,
And so returned my eyes to me,
Like olives from a jar.

To those who swear that love is blind,
You've surely never been,
The subject of a stolen glance,
From a barmaid named Nadine.
A repost from the dim and distant past.
Am I back...I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that sitting with the warmth of the morning sun on my back, iPad in my lap, scrawling and trawling, scrolling and trolling (I jest - couldn’t resist the rhyme) is the most contently anxious I’ve felt in weeks. Stay safe! :)
Jaxey Mar 31
You're a cup of coffee
iced of I remember
and I thought you had melted
a long time ago
but as it turns out
your ice cubes
were coffee too
and you're just as sweet as before

**** it
curse you life hacks
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