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How can one be that obsessed with someone?
How could anyone in the whole world wake up one day
With the eagerness to see just one face for the rest of their life?
How could anyone grab oranges and not even think of eating them as soon as they touch their hands
Because they can’t think of anything else but getting home to share them with someone?
How, how, how?

Why do I feel like the sun is not bright enough if I don’t get to see your smile?
Why does chocolate taste like charcoal when I’m not eating it with you?
And why do I go out of my way to have the pillow always ready for your head,
Because I’m scared your thoughts might drift away and lie to your face about how beautiful you are?
Why, why, why?

What is it that makes me want to write you poems,
Even when the alphabet of my life is missing the letters y, o, and u?
What is it that screams at me to wash your shoes,
When mine look like dirt was made for them?
What is it that runs through my veins every time the stars you call eyes
Look through the cloth I call soul?
And I know it’s more than blood, and I know it’s more than love.

My love, how can someone beg for you
In the middle of the night, between the sheets of a broken work of art?
My Lord, how can someone love with such clouds and lilies in the park,
And chamomile tea in the morning, while you fill up my heart?
Sometimes I think I just write everything I wish someone would say to me
Zywa Jun 23
There is no service,

the terrace serves us itself --


As a meeting place.
For Madelief dK and Lotte W, with a photo of the former farm Het Melkhuis in the Vondelpark, rebuilt in 1938 into The Great Milk House (Het Groot Melkhuis), with a buffet for the guests (May 15th, 2022, Amsterdam)

Collection "Local interest"
Steve Page May 31
Like a Pool Frog
at a dry river bed.
Like the flow
of a water garden
in the dry season.
I am stilled.
I am struck dumb.
I am Walpoled.
Walpole Park, Ealing has a curiously dry 'water garden'.
I was sitting on a bench,
in a quiet place , a cemetery,
but also a park
where people come to walk,
to jog, to breathe.

Then I saw it,
a pigeon flying down from a tree.
It walked softly on the ground,
its feathers glowing in the morning light.
Black wings,
white chest,
purple and black neck,
white tail,
and feet covered with white feathers.

So beautiful.
I didn’t say it out loud,
but in my heart I admired it.

And then
it looked at me.
Really looked.

And to my surprise,
it flew to me.
Landed on the bench,
right next to me.
Its claws held the metal tightly.
It stared
those red eyes moving,
like it was trying to understand me
from every angle.

It came closer.
And for a second,
I felt something between us.
Our eyes met
and stayed.

Then, quietly,
it flew away.

I don’t know what it was.

Was it God,
answering my silent thoughts?
Or the universe,
reminding me that we are all connected?

It felt like love
but not the kind we see in movies.

No hands.
No words.
Just a moment between a human and a bird.
Real.
Quiet.
Sacred.

Maybe love is like that sometimes
not between lovers,
but between souls.
No need for shape or name.
Just presence.
I sat upon a fashioned stump
Where birds and bugs all ducked and dived;
Stuck on the stump before a ****
And wondering which to hide.

A smear of veg before me spreads
As far as the mind can see;
And dazzling flowers all nod their heads,
And all of them smile at me.

Then the birds, the birds all sing their song,
And the rest can buzz and dance along,
So I know that really it can’t be long
‘Till everything’s smiling at me.

But the buzz and the song -
Oh, where had they gone?
And those flowers -
How they smiled at me!
Jacob Jan 24
A dog of curly black, puffs of white from it's lips
Followed in a tether, two folks of kin washed in a dew lit sun
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
Given a hand to go hand in hand in the park
Only allowed to be enjoyed in the dark
And as I curse the idea of an always present silver lining
I notice it to be easier to witness the splendor of our spark

©2025
Bill MacEachern Dec 2023
I Remember

I remember a time
When all was so bright
With bustling crowds
And neon lit nights

Covered wagon caterpillars
And bunnies of blue
Teacups that spun
You sat in them too

I remember the days
When scooters could fly
Pinball was king
And everything thrived

I remember the smells
Of hot dogs & beer
I remember it all
And wish it still there

Bill MacEachern
05/02/2022
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