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When I smell Old Spice it takes nose back
Think of being close to your skin
Was it your sweat as our pulses raced?
We were producing promises to win
Homemade pizza promptly devoured
Flour handprints on ****
Bedazzled jeans
Holes in both knees
Blond hair perfectly cut
I remember admiring freckles
Couldn't take your eyes off my smile
Inebriated night after night
Dreamed of walking the aisle
When tasting Smirnoff *****
Always think of our start
Hearing laughter in my mind
No matter how long we have been apart
It's crazy how little things can take you back in time

Written 3-3-21
Anais Vionet Jun 12
Across the years, 400 plus, my stories endlessly play out their parts.
I played not on painted stage, but I knew the human heart - 
I captured, with quill and scratch, the passions of laughter and tears.
I held up a mirror, in doublet and verse, to things unbound by years,
like the weight of grief, the lightness of love and the serpents of ambition.
The music of verse, the lilt and fall of words, hold a strange enchantment,
brief spells where fools, princes, witches and kings shared a selfsame planet.
Though my bones lay in hallowed ground, the stories I spun linger yet.
They've played out, in age after age, on a thousand, thousand stages.
It’s well done, if I say so myself, to live on, in millions of minds and bookshelves.
.
.
A song for this:
Just Like Romeo and Juliet by The Reflections
This is for the 'Lost Poetry from History Challenge'
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132874/lost-poetry-from-history-challenge/
selina Feb 28
i fall asleep in the back of ubers, to the sounds
of middle-aged drivers talking to their loved ones
giving advice, the smell of spice, my temple on the window
just playing a mental jeopardy with the meanings behind
those accented words of languages i don't understand
perhaps, once upon a time, i did, but now, no longer

i sleep like a stranger in my own home, climbing
into my bed without caution, with atrophying bones
it's a debilitating exhaustion, it's characteristic of aging
of falling and forgetting about the friendships and benefits
that broke through my bed slats, plus the flash-lit attempts
to fix the unfixable with feminist texts and crumpled cash

i dream about my mother as another, and her neck
remains untouched, perhaps only adorned with pearls
so wide, and so bright, and the garage door is always unlocked
it's comfort, it's nostalgia, it's the furthest i've been from home
and when the radio turns on, i wake to unfamiliar laughter, and
"i miss my dog, and i miss falling in love," and everything's amiss
and all i can do is sit here, tipping a stranger as i reminisce
nothing like a long uber ride
Solaluna Jan 29
In the quiet spaces where my heart resides,
I craft a tale of endurance,  where emotion hides.
A facade of fine, a smile painted on,
Hiding the storms, where shadows are drawn.

Through the echoes of laughter, a silence persists, Enduring the ache, with clenched-fist twists.
I say I'm fine, a whispered refrain,
Yet in the depths, a tempest remains.

In the theater of tears, I play my part,
A master of pretending, a work of art.
The world sees strength, a resilient sheen,
But beneath the surface, a different scene.

I endure the weight, the burdens I bear,
A stoic facade, a delicate affair.
Yet, in this masquerade, emotions entwine,
For sometimes, saying "I'm fine" is a valiant design.

So let the verses of endurance unfold,
In the silent poetry of stories untold.
I wear a mask, a masterpiece divine,
Enduring, pretending, yet somehow,
I'm fine.
The poem explores the theme of enduring emotional challenges beneath a seemingly composed exterior.
Dear poets and poetesses

Easy way out.
~~
To have an evangelist
Girl friend boy friend
Is the best thing that
ever happened to many.
of us
Because men and women
often cheat undercover
they find each other out.
They pray confess cry yell and
even faint backwards.
In church and at home,
making up forgiving
each other
And there blame it all
to Satan the devil.
Diligently so,
they invite others
door to door asking
for donations
to get others to do the same, in the name of Jesus
So there we have it religion.
~~~
Mr and Mrs Andrews
And Karijinbba.
https://youtube.com/shorts/af-FXMK6VEs?si=0HRJaC-ulxIJUcRq
Thomas W Case Oct 2023
I have come through
the wildfires and
abject poverty.
The sardine days filled
with ghoulish women and
cowardly men.
Now, I have four
walls, and a table to
write at.
I've decorated my castle:
pictures and tapestries,
a raven figurine sitting
on a stump by the aloe vera.
I have a bookshelf from
the curb; all my
favorites are on it.
I turned my brother onto,
A Confederacy of Dunces
I hear him laugh from his
4 walls.
He escaped the
parasitical nights and the
neon souled undead.

It's a great life if
you don't succumb to
the crowd and the slugs that
just slide on through.
Now, it's the simple
things that bring me pleasure:
house plants, coffee brewing,
and the sound of my
neighbor watering his grass.
I think I will get a goldfish.
All perfect and orange.
And on the fringe, I hear
that feral cat, howling in
the night, without his
4 walls.
https://www.amazon.com/Seedy-Town-Blues-Thomas-Case/dp/B0CJLR274H/ref=sr_1_1?crid=306HSDTJJHVEJ&keywords=seedy+town+blues&qid=1697571269&sprefix=seedy+town+blue%2Caps%2C826&sr=8-1

amazon link to new book
I have never been 40
it's coming soon
it's just around the corner
The big 4-0 looms
I have Never been 40
I haven't got a clue
Will my hair turn grey
How much will I lose?
I have never been 40
What do I do
I've heard all the stories
I don't want to face the truth
I'm turning 40  
Goodbye to my youth
Can some one help me
I'm turning 40 and singing the blues
Will I lose my teeth
Have to gum my food
Wear knee high socks?
Watch the news
I'm turning 40
My life is through
What is next
Nothing to look forward to
It's all downhill
Oh *******
*******
What to do
I'm turning 40
Yeah my life is through
46 years
What do you get
Your way past old
Your pants don’t seem to fit
Your always cold
Like day old bread
Your beginning to mold
Broken Hips
Brittle Bones
46 years
**** that’s old
You always got to have a reason to laugh, you’re never too old.
A M Ryder Aug 2023
My mind drifts
To that night
You streaked down
Mainstreet shouting
To the late
Night world
That you
Were free

I manage to
Barely stifle
A little laugh
But they all
Knew it was
Me, their eyes
Surely said it

In that box
You're still as
Free as you  
Were that night
And I'm just
The guy who
Laughs at his
Friend's funeral
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