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It's been forty three years since that night
when i went out to do what's right
Something that I've kept inside since then

People searched but never found
They followed my prints on the ground
Never looking for anyone else, but men

I'm the one who shot him dead
Two bullets shot, and then I fled
Now it's time to tell my tale 'bout then

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands

They looked high, and they looked low
followed my prints in the snow
Never caring if he did the crime

They hung my brother from a tree
The one who should have died was me
I've never left, I've been here all the time

I guess what goes around comes around
The judge is now dust in the ground
The sheriff, he is also long time dead

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands

It's been a long, long time since Andy died
Rivers of tears that I have cried
But in the end I can' change what was done

Cause Andy's cheating wife never left town
And her body has never been found
Cause this little sister don't miss when she aims her gun

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands
Steve Sep 2018
I miss Vicki and
Her revelations
And all her sticki
Some sicki tricki dicki
Made her leave
Because what?
Maybe I’m naive
But if ever there was a licki
You’d want to sup
Vicki was a bicki
To dunk in a cup.
With all the things wrong in this world imagine a little poetry site making it worse.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
There will never be any bad blood
between those who're marred
by the same
Another one for Vicki.
Those who've been through similar pain have a bond.
Lyn x
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018

~ ♡ ~

dark day
has befallen the
Court of Hello Poetry
How it saddens me to see
the good Queens and Kings
to suffer at the hands of jealous
enemies who seek to destroy others
and their Kingdoms. Though she was
exquisitely dressed, she had a humble
heart; many had a good word about her,
though I did not get to meet her, though I
did not see her,     I could see the light she
had shine in the hearts of others.        She
had a wonderful smile       but invaders;
false Kings and Queens        spewed
nothing but abuse,               and it
made      her      surrender
her crown

~ ♡ ~

could only
watch as she
grabbed the ends of
her silk skirts and run out
of the bustling halls, tears down
her soft face.     I could not reach
her but at the dawn,        from the
balcony,          I saw the ship sail
away,         towards the sunset
into the unknown.      How
my heart is so

~ ♡ ~

see a
true artist,
a true queen
leave forever. At
seeing her tears, her
crying soul staining the
floral marble floors, and the
invaders   feeling   satisfied   at
her    pain   and her 'destruction'
Those   who   dare   to  denounce
are   never  Kings  or   Queens.
To be so jealous, so insecure
and think you led her to
her 'destruction'

~ ♡ ~

will say
this - you may
have won the battle
but  you will NEVER
win the war. Because the
true   Kings and Queens will
band   together,  we  will  stand
together    to protect our haven  for
we see, we know who the true artists
are.  I will continue to shed tears of pain
and   sorrow for the loss of this artist,  but
I will always hope that when the sun rises
she   will return to us once more. She  will
never leave our minds, she has touched
so many hearts. Her legacy, her reign,
her   kingdom will always    stand
eternal, will stand immortal
now and always.

~ ♡ ~

Had to get the turmoil off my chest.
This one's for Vicki
Lyn ***
Rohan Press Aug 2018
wildfires or
wildflowers? i wake
when the sun's setting.

burning, burning:
she's out there, somewhere.
I just read Woody's poem (****-blackbirds-who-always-know-better-than-the-rest/ ) and realised that Vicki, a dear friend and constant supporter of mine, was compelled to delete her HP account as a result of harassment. I am terribly saddened by this occurrence, especially seeing as this site has been a wonderful environment for me to grow as a poet and post my work. I would like to respectfully ask Eliot and the moderators of HP to look into this and prevent any such events from ever happening on this site again. It's also the responsibility of us community members to help keep this a safe, supportive, and loving space. We must exercise our joint responsibility: stop harassment and bullying; stand up for what's right. And Vicki: I miss you.
RK Apr 2017
A Butterfly
by G. Eustace Owen

A butterfly rested upon a flower,
*** was he and light as a flake,
And there he met a caterpillar
Sobbing as though his heart would break;
It hurt the happy butterfly
To see a caterpillar cry.

Said he, ’Whatever is the matter?
And may I help in any way?’
‘I’ve lost my brother,’ wept the other,
‘He’s been unwell for many a day;
Now I discover, sad to tell,
He’s only a dead and empty shell.’

‘Unhappy grub, be done with weeping,
Your sickly brother is not dead;
His body’s stronger and no longer
Crawls like a worm, but flies instead.
He dances through the sunny hours
And drinks sweet nectar from the flowers.’

‘Away, away deceitful villain,
Go to the winds where you belong.
I won’t be grieving at your leaving,
So take away your lying tongue.
Am I a foolish slug or snail,
To swallow such a fairy tale?’

‘I’ll prove my words, you unbeliever,
Now listen well, and look at me.
I am none other than your brother,
Alive and well and fancy free.
Soon you’ll be with me in the skies
Among the flirting butterflies.’

‘Ah!’ cried the mournful caterpillar,
‘Tis clear I must be seeing things.
You’re only a spectre sipping nectar,
Flicking your ornamental wings,
And talking nonsense by the yard.
I will not hear another word.’

The butterfly gave up the struggle.
‘I have,’ he said, ‘no more to say.’
He spread his splendid wings and ascended
Into the air and flew away.
And while he fluttered far and wide,
The caterpillar sat and cried.
A Lopez Dec 2015
To some of my favorites-
Poets of course
I read your exquisites for appetite of my ears
I want to grow old with your writes
And **** your poetry

I have had robust days
And bust days.
I have felt heartbreak
And carbreak-

But still in my good
Or bad, happy
I always come back to reading what you both
N spire
Me with.
You two
Are hello
Not to mention other top favorites I could have a Christmas list with those.
brandon nagley Jul 2015

This is for thou both miss Vicki, and miss Beth Stclair, true poet's
Miss Beth StClair, thy sonnet style, brings back the old smile I see;
Miss Vicki, writing of love so quickly, so beautifully inspiring
Miss beth, thy word's got me flying I'll buyeth thy book real soon.


Miss Vicki, thou art an old soul made of gold, a home amongst homes, as thou liveth in mine state, miss beth, I'd seeith thee if I go to England, amongst the Beatle street's we'll speaketh of ourn living's, and reciteth sonnet's of Shakespearian knowledge.


Miss Vicki, thy jargon is wrapped like a bouquet, glazed with honey, thine words art displayed, people in this world like Thee I do prayeth, that thine life wilt be joyful, and harmonious in thy tommorrow, beth, I feeleth thine wild's, as the sixties thou hadst.


Beth StClair, if it was back in the day, we'd be wonderful friend's, thou wouldst hath watched me on a stage, singing poetic thunder, miss Vicki, when thou feeleth down and under, continue to write thy creator in thy works, and I promise thou both, thou both hath

A friend in me......

©Brandon nagley
©Miss Vicki/miss Beth StClair dedication for both of you (:::::
©Lonesome poet's poetry
A dedication to to amazing poets who inspire me
Miss Vicki and miss Beth StClair (::: love ya both
Sombro Jan 2015
Growing wilder now
Flowers give red shoots in spring
The year starts again

I try to explore
The ice plains and green buds of
The Tomorrow land

Jumping from tall peaks
The flint of life is sharper
Than any flower

I sit myself down
And breathe the pollen deeply
Summer comes and goes
Haikus, the sunny days are coming again. Poem idea came from Vicki, thanks :)

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