I dip my fingers in me
thinking of your face.
biting my lips,
figuring out your taste.

you seem like a
drop of sweat on my nape,
honey milk on my waist.

One summer
you shall flow
and the flowers
would glow waiting
for the rains.

Do not haze, neither haste.
the world inside me will tremble,
and so will my skin.

for some stones
now know
how a bud blossom
in the cold snow.

©ladywithpen

You can’t beat that musical beat,
From tinkling triangles
To blaring horns.
A quick ditty
Or grand symphony.

Music can mould mountains,
Oceans and plains.
Make you feel any emotion
Or atmosphere.

When songs and poems marry,
Their offspring are awesome:
“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality…”
Mercury magic.

Those rhythms run like chugging trains.
They fight pitch battles
Within our brains.

Drums keep beating,
Guitars whine.
Ever repeating
All through time.

Chuck Berry with his rock and roll,
Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul.
Elvis truly was the King,
Want some crooning?
Play some Bing.

Beatles, Queen or Stones,
Who really cares?
Roll over Beethoven
Bach or Lennon
On your dancing squares.

I know that rap can give you the blues,
But there’s so much music
You’ve got plenty to choose.

Musical memories adorn our minds,
Warm associations
Of nostalgic times.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\3\2019. Last stanza added 6\3\19.

They were laid in the road and ****** to death.
Seemingly innocent sins of yesterday yanked
Them from the pedestal stacked high
With promise. Stolen glances stuck
To eyes so warm, so soft, so quick
To deny. Quick to forgive his fault
Of the heart for carving Scarlet
Letters into the skin of young girls.

When people judge you harshly
Never judge them back
For the degree and measurement they have used to judge you by
Shall be the degree and measurement
Which shall be used when their judgement time arrives
Therefore don't worry about what people think or say
Why tire yourself about something you have no control over
Their words are likened to leaves blowing in the wind
Such people shall be trapped by their own words
And they have determined their own fate
The more stones such people throw
The more stones they shall reap
A harvest of stones
You reap what you throw

I saw the story of creation unfold before my face,
voices of masses screaming vows before the lord.

like the last meal, this is how the end began.

With words like stones exchanged between families in a divorce court.

I stand solid, the fabric flows against the folds of my marble skin
I watch the fires of angst burn this beauty away so -
Now I am a black, burnt crust from forces that force my feet into the floor and,
As I sink against the fluid tiles and the trippy nightmare of reality
I ask, have you ever seen a statue cry?


M.