Madison 2d

Her morning dew
Glistened upon his lips
His morning shower
Gleamed across her skin
Nature, what a beautiful thing
Sweet love, never ending
The sun rises
The love birds sing their song
And the two ascend as one.

for more than a year,
I have been stuck with the indecision to
call you.
and it's as if I torture myself with the thought
of what I would do
if you were to bump into me at the grocery store
hair grown out past your chin,
bloodshot eyes; you smell like beer and piss.
would I have the courage to confront you?
or would I take on the "little girl lost" persona
i oh so often do
and crouch behind the stand of sunflowers,
waiting until you have finished fishing through to find your favorite muffins from the display
and go on your way
i just can't fathom
after all these months of trying to change myself,
i can't change the fact that you are still plaguing my body
the bruises on my lips can still be felt.
your scent fills up the room that you refuse to walk into
and it must be some kind of fucking sickness
that no matter what you could have said to me and make me cry
it won't be enough to scare me away
Stockholm syndrome for the  ones who keep themselves imprisoned in another's memory
you have made me sick and perverted
but I love you for it.

i saw you and i turned my head away because in that moment i vowed that i never wanted to see you again. but now i sit in my bed and i wish that i had done something- gasped, cried, smiled back... anything other than the empty gaze i shot your way as we passed each other- you leaving while i was entering.

good morning sweet love,
good morning beautiful day,
a sweet serenade


She rested her head against the windowsill, tracing her fingers along the rigid, empty patches of wood where that white paint used to be. Once up on a time.

The little whisps of hair that lay limply at the back of her neck became startled as the cold from the windowsill carressed her cheek.
Her eyes turned to the night, where the sky nursed the stars. Pockets of light screaming out into the blackness, before fading into the day. As her mind began to drift, She wandered what promise lay behind those diamonds of light. What would she find if she took that blanket of black by the corners and shook it. What would she see.
The girl sat there, her finger still tracing the chipped paint; running after her lingering thoughts. She sat there untill that familair flame grew bright, bleeding night into dawn. Morning came. the dew settled once again.
Fresh from the heavens and as she turned away, her finger stopped. She breathed a sweet sigh. A sigh filled with secrets, covered in beauty. Then she stretched her legs over the side of her bed, the crack from her toes an unapologetic symphony that her feet sang having spent the night bunched up cross legged by the window. Walking across her room to her bedroom door, she reached for the handle, turning it slowly, opening the door to another day.
Another day painted by mercy and given by grace

     © Raffi

6am mornings
With little to truly say,
so let's lie here waiting
For the sun to slip away.

Every day I don't see you

Leaves me a little misted

I hope that you'd come and clear me up

I never liked morning fog

I'd run to you like a morning jog

Seeing you in running gear is a sight

For the morning for sure

Just about anything you wear

Brings my heart upstairs

For every time you think nobody cares

I live to dare

By instantly denouncing your statements

Because they're causing me abatements

With my heart

With my passion for you

Music to my ears

Would be to hear a confident sentence come out of your mouth and mean it

Nothing would elate me more

That pretty voice of yours needs that sparkle

sunprincess Apr 16

Early mornings light
magical, mesmerizing
beyond beautiful

Sean Holshouser Apr 12

The wind cuts like a knife across the sky,
Twisting and swirling like the peeling
Drawn off of a freshly grown cucumber.

Air splitting the cool frame of daylight with a
Shocking smoothness, grazing the grass like a
Dressing on the morning dew,
Breaking silence at the dawn.

You and I've been here before,
Casting shadows on the floor.

Saw your smile splashed on your face,
And all of my fears disappear from my mind into the cold,
Clammy hands of some other man's nervous disposition.

Hearts unlocked, emotions talking with the
Soft pluck of a harp and the sound of a thousand trumpets,
Intertwined like silken strings; spirits warm, like the playful
Morning dewdrops that the crisp wind dances and hums its wistful tune over.

Finding solace in our eyes, singing our bright melody,
We are dreamers at heart, but you are my beautiful reality.

I have a wonderful new Alarm clock,
That wakes me in the morn.

This clock does not ring, ding or gong!
This clock is without hands.

This clock sits outside,
On my window sill,
Without a care.

At five o'clock in the morn,
Just before dawn.
My new clock begins to sing,
A beautiful bird song.

Nature's beautiful alarm clock.

Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved

New Alarm Clock Poem Video
Next page