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My Dear Poet Feb 23
When I said
I was here for you
I didn’t realise
you wouldn’t
be here too
Steve Page Feb 18
Like the comfort of forged steel in your hand or between your teeth
Like the push of a brother's shoulder against yours
Like the grip of deep tread on your boots
Like the weight of a canteen on your belt
Like the pull of a loyal hound on your hand
Like the thunder of your horse beneath you
Like the loyal rays of morning cutting through the cold
Like the rumble of reinforcements across the Vale
Like the tight knot of a bandage on your deep wound
Was the reassurance of our Captain's voice ["Hold!"] in the absence of all else.
Reading Games of Thrones and went all medieval.
Everchanging winds of discontent
Paint temptation an alluring hue;
Gilded words softly caress my ear --
O, what anxious impulses ensue!
But then something draws me back to you

Sweetest intimations tease my heart,
Drenching my thoughts like the morning's dew;
Invitations to romance entice . . .
Dare I venture down this avenue?
Certainly not!  let this thought pass through!

The flames of temptation stoke desires
That only fealty's promise can subdue;
But the embers must not be ignored --
If unguarded,  they'll blaze up anew
And soon unfaithfulness makes its debut

Lips that have been parched by burning sighs
Quiver when a fount comes into view;
How ardently I could quench my thirst,
How inviting this seductive brew . . .
But then something draws me back  to you

Temptation exudes such sweet perfume ---
How easily a vow can go askew;
But the door to my heart is secure,
And my conscience remains free of rue . . .
Your love's tender power binds me to you
Her
You were my safety.
A shortcut to heaven,
A happiness that saved me.

Perhaps you outgrew me?
You seem different lately.
Yet your eyes,
Speak a name.

One I heard you mutter,
But with a chuckle,
And for a moment,
You stutter.

But a flicker of reasoning,
Made me weak at the knees.

She was yours too,
Wasn't she?
This poem is about cheating, I hope you all enjoy!
B Oct 2023
Pinky promises
and praying to goddesses
a picture of your friends on the sagging shelf
and I know I love you
so much more than you could ever,
ever love yourself.
We plucked wild bluebells
and got sick in the winter-time breeze
I'll pick you up
when you fall down
I'll patch up the scrapes on your knees.

Sugar coated candy
turned into your mother's brandy
still over indulged
but I will be here
year after year
you'll always have someone to hold.
Can't leave you out in the cold
no matter how angry you can be.
Takeout boxes,
a key in your locks and
always a place for me in your coral sheets
we roam the city in outfits too tight
we hold hands in the streets.

Only a fool
when I'm in your room, lose our cool
laughing as our middles concave
with your hand in mine
I've always felt so brave.
We were girls together
and that will never change.
LONE STAR Sep 2023
You have no idea
How much my heart bleeds
One single word unclenches me
You lead me on
Only to let me go
You promised you wouldn't hurt me
And still I told you
Words are never a guarantee

You have no idea
How I wish you would have never said anything
From the love induced words
To the midnight crazed hearts
To the love language of touch
Caressed assurances that
I am the only one
Who knew what lay ahead

You have no idea
How I fell for every little bit of you
From your laughter
Your infectious smile
Alluring presence
Charismatic benevolence
Generous soul
A weakness they may suffice

You have no idea
How I hate repeating myself
But for you a parrot I become
Saying words not heeding them
Going over the same things
All over again, drowning
Misery since I'm miserable
Look what unruly affections have done to me

©Lone star ✨
®Jerusa Mentrin
In the darkest sky I feel so alive.
The dictates of affection are beyond one's control.
justine grace Aug 2023
In the quiet expanse of time, I find myself grappling with truths and untruths, wondering if I deceive even my own heart into believing I've attained tranquillity. Indeed, I am in a state of well-being, owing to the strides I've taken on this journey of self-betterment. Yet, the undulating waves of emotion persist – highs and lows interweaving like threads in a tapestry. Perfection remains elusive, and perhaps that's the beauty, for I've poured my essence into every endeavour.

Now, as I stand at the crossroads of zero, an architect of my own renewal, I embrace the task of rebuilding from the ground up. Metamorphosis courses through me, rendering me unrecognisable even to myself. Laughter spills more freely from my lips, though occasionally restrained by the shadows of doubt. Tears flow more earnestly, yet at times, I still restrain their cascade. Solitude becomes a cherished companion, a realm I delve into to nurture my soul. Simultaneously, the embrace of friends becomes a celebration of my being, an affirmation of the love I hold for myself in their company.

In this delicate dance, I witness the scales of life gradually finding equilibrium. The pendulum, once erratic, now sways in a harmonious rhythm. The art of relearning tranquillity unfolds before me, a masterpiece in progress, painted with the hues of experience and wisdom.

Time, the patient sculptor moulds each fragment of my existence. And in its embrace, I find solace. For while the road ahead is veiled in uncertainty, I stand here, resilient, embodying the truth that healing is a symphony of seconds and seasons.

And as I mend, I extend to you, a wish that your heart finds solace too. In this dance of existence, in shadows and light – may we emerge stronger, taking flight.
And as I journey towards brighter days, I extend my hopes to you in myriad ways. May your heart also mend and mend anew, in time's healing grace, may you find your hue.
Hubby,
Our fractured laugh is irredeemable.
It Is reinforcing the heroic microbes.
to brainstorm some tiny schemes.
with a lack of delicacy and tact

to recur the same cynic nights of devastation,
incorporate the sores into our throats; a full-time personification of tangible intrusion, directly to the full portrait of the Meningitis itself.

Distracting the law of the incubation hours for all strains, overpowering the blood cower, and hovering over our jaded hoarse, sneering at our last appalling psyche-knot

After this creative detention,
I’m invoking another forever torpor inside of our hearts' beats to pose another irrevocable damage that would perpetuate a close depiction of da Vinci’s Last Supper masterpiece.

Honey, Light yourself with a viral-bacterial whirlwind and sink into its bleakness beside my bewitching bind.
I'm still loving you despite all my infections.
amid the urge to enfold your tsunami and swallow its combination
Fortunately, we have survived so many different tragedies together, as a full piece of plague
above Utopia.

- The Poetic Soul
about love and illness.
wes parham Jul 2023
Never did I try to guess,
Or ever pretend to know,
The places you would retreat to,
The places I could never go.

Silent, you would disappear,
And, silent, you'd return.
No questions asked, no trust betrayed,
I simply had to learn.

It never was… personal.
It never was… yours to tell.
It never was…  my place to ask,
It never was, but it’s just as well.

It never passed from between our lips,
Or a friendly, reassuring touch.
“And that's ok”, you told me once.  
“Don’t  be afraid”,  “You worry too much”.

Never did I fault your wishes,
And my loyalty was never a whim.
I never doubted your kind heart,
And never did I falter, my friend.
I’m not 100% sure of the exact story here.  I like to explore connections and the uncertainties that can plague them.  It’s kind of, initially, about the speaker learning when it would be necessary to do nothing when instinct might insist otherwise.  Learning to be quiet when you want, very sorely, to speak.   And, of course, full evergreen disclosure:  As most creative endeavors, it is stuffed about the edges with some Grade “A” crispy-fried *******.  mmm, tasty.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2023
~
In the mist of late night solitude,
                 from a mislaid plateau,
                 with a suitcase full of sparks

She observes constellations
        reflected as little needy eyes,
                        peering down at her

They could be midnight directives,
       postcards from distant nebula
                            suspended in gaffa

       "Ne t'enfuis pas..." She exhales

Still she wonders:

        will her children grow to love
          their perfect machines more
                                    than they love
                  their imperfect mother?

~
"Ne t'enfuis pas" is a French phrase which means "don't run away"
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