In the summer night
Two lovers a senior Lama And a common girl Couple And have their ways With each other Under the summer Dipper.
Lama Yeshi Tsang
As we cuddle And make shy love The poppy falls On the floor Only to dry up and be forgotten Amoung the dust But the night will be memorable.
As I pick a poppy
From the poppy field After our coupling I am reminded Of you My love.
There once was a boy named Steve,
Who couldn't pull up his sleeve, So he gave it a tug, And tried a hug, But yet could not pull up his sleeve. Poor Steve!
My first poem. A weak but funny one
Contentment is a fleeting thing
Descendant of the peace but then Oversensing will begin Commencement of the mortal sin Empty out the medicine Then resentment will set in Ten steps towards the loony bin Guess I'll never make it since Contentment is a fleeting thing
What a coincidence
Remind me again -- About all of it. I want to remember, I need to remember -- So I don't repeat myself, So I don't fall or trip on my mistakes. If I do that -- What was the point of Remembering it all. I want to stay away, I need to stay away. Even though, I know -- my heart is aching to get hurt again, To embrace the toxic thoughts of past, Relive old beginnings, To restart. To catch new aches and pains, To fall and trip, To stay and live it. To remember all of it, To walk into a new beginning With you in it.
(imitated from Patricia Lockwood’s **** Joke)
The woman joke isn’t something you choose. The woman joke is something you get used to. The woman joke it almost becomes your livelihood. Remember when you were little, boys had cooties, but so did girls. Imagine what would happen today if you said boys had cooties- Nothing. You’ll hear the woman joke when you’re way too young. The ones telling the joke probably won’t realize that the joke they’re telling isn’t a joke at all. But girls have cooties and they always will. You’ll grow up, but nothing will change. The woman joke is now commonplace. The norm! How can a joke be so common normal? The only people who think the joke isn’t normal are women. The woman joke is when even the President can make the joke without consequence. But you can’t. The woman joke is that if you make one, it suddenly isn’t funny anymore, men will look away in disgust, and other women will say you’re degrading them and yourself. It’s just a joke, you’d say. Even though you knew it wasn’t. The woman joke is an expected icebreaker at a party that you learn to laugh at. When you go home at night, you shake with rage but know there’s nothing you can do about it. How can such a joke exist? Because you do.
When the nights get too cold;
And there's nothing warm to behold And all of the trees that used to be green, Become withered and mean When the old righteous stare, Becomes more than you can bear; When the birds don't sing the song You used to hear all morning long When the nights get too cold, Suddenly you'll know So make a shelter where you'll be safe, From all the yesterdays and its mistakes From the coldness of her hand, and all the madness unplanned Still sometimes the winter air stays in your chest, It's only what it knows best But sometimes it lingers just a little too long, Sometimes it lingers just a little too long. When the nights get too cold; Hold onto me, don't let me go.
Life can exact a heavy toll
Unless you pay heed to your whole; Your mind, your body and your soul!
I take a breath at morning light,
moving in depths of heart where gems of words pour and emotions sprout. Where light integrates dark and dreams manifest. I take a step at daybreak, where baby day unfolds and diamond words get worn on sleeve to write thoughts. Where steps of dance balance and light expands. I take a moment at night where stars of twinkling words center behind eyes as diamond verse to be woven upon page. Where hand follows heart, and heart beats with gratitude. I take a breath laying upon bed, aligning with gift of sleep. A sweet place where I dream, scouting out places of grand mystery. Where beating doorway of heart and songs become words dear. whispering with morning birds to scribe a poem but again.
Inspired by Sobbingsoul. Thanks you are a gift