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Jenny Gordon Feb 2018
...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVIII)


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

27Jan18
I'd only thought in looking out the kitchen window on all that it was too silent in the kitchen sans bird voices, when lo, there were none to be heard after all. NOTE for L14:  in 2011 I used to hang out on the back stoop in the warmer hours.
sweet ridicule Nov 2017
Drops of red drip down my hand it
(looks like blood)
sweet red juice
the cold water is numbing my tingling
hands as I separate arils from peel
one popping bright red jewel at a time
I am learning to be patient with
(traffic and fruit peeling and anger)
myself
this sink room smells like burnt
ramen and popcorn and my socks
stick to the ***** floor
sitting on the ground
against the wall
If this is all there is I swear
I will be happy
Bryan Oct 2017
SITTING, staring patiently
debating taking silent leave
to heave my bones toward reprieve
and shake off all that's shaking me.
SITTING, staring patiently
I see the demon's point in me.
I see it shine, I see it weep,
and see it when I go to sleep,
LAYING, waiting patiently.
Horribly, these foggy dreams
do less to please
than psyche needs.
I feel a presence gazing me.
LYING, waiting anxiously.
Now here it is debasingly
teasing me insatiably,
promising my every need:
LYING, hiding everything.
What do we call this foul disease?
This object overtaking me?
A spoon and needle ****** me.
LOSING, hiding everything.
Poetic T Sep 2017
Old rocking chairs sways
       in the wind of
                              yesteryears.

Collecting fragile memories
      viewed over silent
                              contemplations.

The world moves on
                       but memories
                viewed sitting here
Luis Liriano Sep 2017
there's no time for wishing
nor for us

there's no time for hoping
nor for you and I

but I can't help it, so I sit here waiting for a fate to decide that you and I
that us should exist  

hoping that us could exist
even if there is no time left
Journey of Days Jul 2017
perhaps
when we stop chasing our tails
we can sit

sit*
be present with each other
again
find the beginning

beginning
yet another age of being
a gift of time

@journeyofdays
at some point it is just the two of you again and you will have to find a way to be together again...just the two of you...
Ashlea Feb 2017
I have been sitting,
Waiting,
Hoping,
Praying,
That you’d come back to me.
You’d see that what you left behind is someone who was special.
Is special.
But I continue to pray,
Hope,
Wish,
And sit
Until you come back home.
Where you belong.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
Each morning she welcomes me into her world.
The best part about it.
I am always glad I came, watching her pat her hand on a reserved spot inviting me to sit beside her.
A motivation for tired legs,
Our eyes resting after a light jog, over by the park bench.
Slowly watching our faith in each other raise from behind the clouds.
In due time I am drenched in the way that she makes me feel.
Even when we go our separate ways she is always there
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