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onlylovepoetry May 2017
the early riser guider, pastel orb of high color value,
looks askance at the two men watching it,
for fresh and clean, it, the sun, from
the horizon born and bathed and toweled blue terry sky dry

the men, well they stinkin'
from body sweat hikin' and grease and drinkin'
Mr. Coffee and cheap *****,
an expensive high, when next day payback comes due

but none better for inspire to hire and
merging men's alternative verses writ in alternating styles,
trading stanzas under a lighting-felled inspiration tree,
waiting for that insightful light that comes too brief

how can it be each thinks, that tho never in the flesh met,
thank to Mr. Coffee and cheap *****,
the bond just gets stronger every day way,
the poetry better with each sippin',
as many rivers confluent on their way home
to the slightly jealous observing Pacific sea,
the original mother lode of all creation,
well, She says:

good job and good luck remembering anything
and getting home safe and sound!"

to which we drink a toast of Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
and it ocurs to one, perhaps both,
this is kinda a love poem after all
onlylovepoetry Jun 2020
that fog horn blows,
worries my mind, lord knows, we don’t need,
more obstacles in this tired world, so the horn
trying, to be blowing fog away, without success

the sound’s remainder air-lingers like foam bubbles
ridden down to coffee cup bottom, resisting, protesting,
refusing to expire, useless/nonetheless, says no dying

sole boat outlined, bout mile out, must be anchored, it’s
unmoved by fog danger or noise, fishing is my informed
best guess, but fish ain’t stoopid, swimming another way

the fog horn wakes the woman who looks askance
cause there is neither coffee or a newly christened
poem upon her nightstand, an explanation is sought

“stand by me,” I sing, “be unafraid my darling, stand now,
stand by me,” poet said “been guarding our bed, this long
foggy night, agin interlopers, bad dreams and sea troubles”

shied ‘em away, knowing that when a man loves a woman,
she can lean on him, cause he’s load bearing, her safety is
always first, poem second, coffee coming, with sun rising

she bemused, funny you’re, kooky like the poems you’ve up-
written all night, up all life long, all stored up in my nightstand,
you’re sweet, like  Tennessee whiskey, ignore my scowling my own
poet-mr. coffeeman-sea guardian, you’re alright with me
b Nov 2019
that i liked the song your
boyfriend made.
i don’t. its bad. it doesnt mean
he is bad, just the song is bad.

all the alcohol i “drank” and
all the times i got “****** up”
or “smashed” in between
the ages of zero and nineteen.
lies. all i knew was the sadness
of others, my neighbours magnum opus.
why would i ever touch a brush for
myself when i could remake something
we all agree is beautiful.

when you once told me that
if two people stand at opposite sides
of the room and close their eyes,
if they keep walking forward
they’ll kiss. and when it didn’t
work the first time i guided you
into my lips and you smiled like
the sun was in us in that moment.

is that so wrong
chelle Nov 2019
Sometimes you come to take me
On your magic carpet ride
In the midst of all the darkness
The still silence in the middle of the night

I never thought until this day
That I'd be blinded by this light
That's your disguise, that's a cover
Get ready, hang on tight

There's never been an evil
Thats deceived me quite so well
Or that claimed the truth
When clearly flying into hell

I've heard it said a time or two
Demons look like light
Maybe that's why you always come
In the secret of the night

At first I thought it beauty
No truth I saw in the dark
But what goes up, must come down
And now I see you're mark.
I believed every lying word. He spoke of beauty and light but it was only ever evil and dark. Distorted perception on both parts.
neth jones Jul 2019
Variations can be made on the fly according to mood and individual
How were these melodic notes made?
A thousand symphonies
from the sky upon him laid?

Mr. Tree and petite Ms Tree met with a distant ancestry,

Although he sprouted from a Cherry pit,
She has been growing from an apple seed,
Together they play,
hiding and seeking with the wind,

Silly them when thinking about the humanity
while they both have plans to grow to be.

Petite Tree sits under Mr Cherry tree
They laugh and laugh, won't leave.

Mr. giving Tree
shares his cherries for free.

Petite Tree eased her hesitation smiles.

Please, please Mr. Tree with cherries,
Petite Tree would like to grow with you distance memories.
Following up with a peer poet’s post in regarding Mr. Tree.
Sergio Gonzalez Oct 2018
I long for your love
The way I long for the change
Of the seasons
Our thoughts reshape
For no apparent reasons
And the axioms we’ve had
Have disappeared
Over the span of time

Stop looking for the aesthetic
She’s beautiful the way she is
God didn’t make any mistakes
It’s apparent
Put your eyes through the looking glass
Look towards the intellect
Not what you see through the internet
I miss you in the summertime
I miss you all the time

Take the time to know me
You’ll see me bloom through the clouds
And find a better side of me
One I can share with thee
My sweet honey bee
Write to me your feelings
I’ll treasure them
The way Mr. Krabs
Treasures his very first penny
You mean that much to me

I want to be with you
Past our Amazon primes
Let me hold your hand at night
And let a myriad of calendars pass by
That’s a future
I would really like
But for now
Lay your head
And dream,
my love
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