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Heros

Medallion on the spine.  A golden paper label.
Notes   Fishing Tales Ⓜ️
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay
cuz, earlier this July forth
     two thousand eighteen ja way
windows closed, doors locked, and

     car keys visibly splayed
     on driver seat oye vay
feel free to call me a horse's *** today
utter anxiety compounded,

     plus unable to locate master key,
     thence fodder for poem and more to say
rifling thru boxes without success,
     an impulse arose to call road

     upon learning policy
     doth include locksmith service,
     ah felt less doggone snappish,
     and uttered hoo ray

though modest aye,
     congratulated awesome,
     fulsome, and handsome
     self on quick thinking,

and automatically became less tiresome
     pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason
     (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay
then immediate decided,

     sans ditto explanation,
     but no how and nay
yet honest to dog suddenly felt
     like a young lovestruck lad

     during month of May
and without further delay
a compulsion arose
to putter along, though

     momentarily gazing heavenward
     and counting (just beak caws)
     glistening black crows
plus painfully aware

     a spike in recurrent
     "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows,
thus starkly aware significant rustiness
     increasingly, frightfully,

     and chokingly coats
     lix spit tillage harrows
resuming schlepping dishabille
     crotchety bedeviled aching

     body electric irksome
with fringe benefit (such as
     momentary lapse of reason)
     quite aware mettlesome

ness of youth nonrefundable,
     non-reliable, and non-retrievable,
     and guaranteed continued
     pricking, viz nettlesome

degenerating aging telomeres,
     sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes
leaving a once robust person some
what discombobulated
     and easily toilsome.
IPM May 2018
I see her
in dimming light
beneath the lamplight on the street
our eyes meet
for the last time under a misty veil
I see her
she sees me
Saint Audrey Mar 2018
Odds stacked, but the overbearing
Often mistaken thoughts that are lending
More and more credence to my mind

Jaw slacked, but this mind has been sharpened
Its more than a fact, we breathe brokenhearted
But it's going to take far more than that this time

We spoke once, before it was over
We must speak again, cure the disorder
You're the only medicine I have in mind

Oblivion, or the loss of retention
Mysterious, if only for the second
Don't leave me sinking slowly into brine

It only takes a start and
You'll find yourself in time
Down an over guarded
Vaulted false start of a ending
Saint Audrey Jan 2018
The softest whispers of
Past ideas, and inclinations
Postulating long ignored dreams
Of long dried progenitors
Upon which we now look down

From the mouths that pour out banal well wishes
To the frozen digits, attached to architects and engineers

Most come to understand the past lies in fragments

Crucial details overlooked, time and time again
Lost amid a sea of bleak optimism
Futurism has its place, along side the winds
The ones that bring the same tired tides

I've drawn myself yet another line in the sand
The definition is as lucid as I could possibly be
Maybe a reflection of identity
It keeps shifting

Stepping forward, though unsure why
Commandeering tidal waves
Building bridges between figments in the skies
Attention drawn
To the edges of half way signs

"Onward and forward", the dead still proclaim
Long after the earth is packed
After death, so many still remain, if for the moment
Apparitions, spiritual possession of discourse
Tearing away from the pale, and digging deep into the fresh crop

You'll be gone soon enough
Into the standstill, though
The dead see it differently

Cosmic mistrust, a classic case
To free yourself from the very shackles
Blood had prepared you for, oxygen raised you for
Natural order now spurned
Floor to ceiling, ceiling to walls
Connected them seamlessly

What are you still fighting for, now?
fustypetals Oct 2017
what I'm scared the most is—
to fall in love with a new stranger
that I don't know who he really is.

–f.r
i guess, i still into u
Zero Nine Aug 2017
She touched me where I wanted
Our whiskey breaths
Mixed turned
Innocent lips
To ember, orange
To grey, to ashes

Though, turns the touch most wanted
Won't

It just won't
Àŧùl Jun 2017
I* talk of the fairy from Nagpur.

Lovely she is very much playful,
Of a perfect smile she is holder,
Voracious I am & she's food,
Extremely delicious!!!

Best beautiful girl I've ever known,
Holder of beauty she is a beholder,
Ultra she's as beautiful as the moon,
My dream girl she is my real killer,
I have kindled this dream for her,
Kodak moments are all her smiles,
A**nd her beauty I can never forget.
A poem about my beautiful friend Bhumika Fulwani from Nagpur.

No veiled emotions.

I just truly admire her angelic beauty.

My HP Poem #1606
©Atul Kaushal
Zero Nine Jun 2017
Gone walking rocky cliffs
Seem to stretch to oblivion
This rain with little clothing
Cuts my fatty layers through
To quake the bone
I haven't known home since you were with me
Now the most powerful memory barely manifests in mist
This calls for a summoning
I'm shamed in calling for you, maybe I'm too paranoid. After all you said you loved me and it stuck in the midnight wind through windows.
Please let me find your face in dream to lead me home.
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