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Joshua Dougan Jan 2017
I'm about to have a baby at 36 weeks
My wife is the only person I have to talk to.
My only support structure needs my support.
My rock is my son but he can't speak words yet.
My family seems preoccupied. Even during times like this.
I have friends... Oh wait... Where?
The first time was so stressful because we weren't sure what would happen.
Now we are just unprepared...
There's emotional support but everyone stops short of actually helping. Sad but true.
Meeting my daughter was supposed to be different.
I'm just upset I couldn't make it perfect for her.
Come with me and I will show you paradise
Accompany my love to bring spring to bloom
Your wonderful presence will definitely suffice
My sweetheart your sweet presence will resume

All my strength to be ready to take you along
On the path of love to encounter and surpass
I am fortunate to me my beloved you belong
My sweetheart my beloved my wonderful lass

Let love take your beauty in hand to just stand
Against all odds, trials and tribulations of life
Let us celebrate our love ceremony really grand
Let us face all luxury and all strife ,be my wife

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sweet William,
            I've done heard it all be-fore,
          You got the looks, got the hair,
             that clever draw and more...

But sweetie here I am again,
Got Momma here, -crying again.
Wrecked-up face, my map of men,
This time so bad, lad, -you ain't fixin'

William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,
William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,

...you ain't gonna hit me no more.

Some love is hard/borders on sin,
Crying to God, please A-men?
Goodbye door, my bags packing,
Well-heeled feet, living A-gain,

William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,
William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,

...you ain't gonna hit me no more.

SWEET WILLIAM!
    Sweet William,

Hurting no, -no more...
Call me up- 'ev-er-y' night
Devil at My door,
Battle yourself/I'm not your fight.

...you ain't gonna hurt me no more.
Austin Bauer Dec 2016
While you're away,
my thoughts wander
nomadically through
a sleepless desert.
I wonder if you're awake,
reaching to your left
as I reach to my right,
whispering, 'I love you,'
like I whisper
to the silence.

How can I sleep without
the soft cadence of
your breaths
singing me a lullaby?
Without the heat
of your body
reminding me
you're at my side?
Without your gentle
tossing and turning
to spur my imagination
and wonderment
at what could be alive
in your beautiful mind?

I've become an insomniac
wishing you were here,
wishing I could hold you again,
wishing you weren't
hundreds of miles away.
Rest only comes
when I cling to the hope
of your return.
Alienpoet Dec 2016
In the whisperer of the nights breeze
in the murmur of words she softly said 
I knew she wasn’t really dead
in the movement of the trees outside, with their leaves
the way the photo album opened with ease
the noise of your footsteps chased me to bed 
dreams of you linger in my head
I am left longing for you to tease
things I swear move on their own
sometimes i can hear the rattling of plates
I am never ever left alone
I am the man who sits and waits
hearing the noise of the television drone 
I hear your voice it communicates.
Àŧùl Dec 2016
My parents have been making a fortune,
Decent enough for my survival in future,
If in case I am rendered disabled ever.
But if I am not going to be disabled ever,
The heirloom will surely remain heirless,
I am scared of a prospective partner.
Rather live alone than getting ditched,
Ditched by inferior heartless humans,
I prefer leaving a heirless heirloom.
HP Poem #1320
©Atul Kaushal
Don Moore Dec 2016
The springs bracken fronds swish and sway and yet there is no wind
Lying on the soft verdant grass and observing the fern, there is movement
From between the intense greenness appears a black nose followed by a snout
Shades of grey, with a little black and as the head with observant eyes appears
There is white, although a ***** one, for it is Badger who appears
No announcement, no fanfare, in fact quite the opposite, for he has much to fear
His strong shoulders follow through as he pushes out into the field
He has a muscular body, built for digging and his nose snuffles as he tests the air
Behind him, but a little shy, his sow close by his heels as she enters the scene
For a moment both stand shoulder to shoulder, their noses both a quiver
He is first; he shuffles off into the meadow in search of food, worms and snails
The sow is wary, and well so as her cubs join her at the edge of uncertainty
They, a boy and a girl are not so worried, for life to them is full if surprises now
But they have not yet met the many who would take them for their dinner
Their mother and father are a different game, but presently Fox would like a go
There is weasel and stoat and owl floats above with buzzard and hawk
These hunters all like a youngster of any breed, and if there was chance of dinner
And so, as they gambol and play upon the grasses, their mother stands on watch
These cubs, they must be taught, taught playing does not feed their stomachs
Taught that food is not free and must be hunted each and every night or die
And the food they seek, there are also many others who feel their need to gorge
With one eye above, mother seeks the juicy worm, and tries to teach her cubs
Her youngsters eat all she can deliver, fat juicy snails and the odd slug or two
And then, upon the air although very scant, a smell most awful and rank
It would appear the lord of the hedgerow is nearby, and he will be out hunting
He wears a shiny coat of red; he carries a most bushy tail and fangs of yellow
At this time of year, he will have a family of his own and need extra food
His home is not near, or the Brock badger would know and challenge
Now the sow is worried where her husband is, and if he is near to protect them
The scent becomes harder and her lips peel slowly from her teeth and she hisses
Lifting from the ground over the green grass she dimly spies a red coat skulking
The evening light is falling fast, her eyes are poor, but she can smell her enemy
She hears the pad of his paws as he draws ever near, his coat brushed by grasses
Hissing she draws her cubs to her side, the decision quickly made to fight here
Speedily they run beneath her upraised body, her scent comforting she is mother
And on comes Fox, he’s not so stealthy now, he knows he has been seen
He skirts the trio out on the meadow; he knows she cannot be guarding two
And here he thinks is a quick early evening meal, he is confident, he is Fox
Near and ready he crouches to the ground, choosing his meal with care
Now ready decision made, he rushes in, his jaws open to grab a tender morsel
His eyes are centred on one cub that wanders from his mother’s belly fur
Bam out of the blue Fox is shunted away, the brock has returned, his teeth ready
There’s a fierce tussle and this Fox learns his lesson, to leave Brocks children alone
The male Badger returns his teeth bloodied, his teeth full of fur, but triumphant
His wife greets him, his cubs adore him, then he leads them back to the bracken in the night.
Observations from my childhood, and which led to my book of a Cornish Faery Tale.
Àŧùl Dec 2016
Scared before she could be my only wife,
Flew away on my tender touch a dove.

Abandoning the sinking relation-ship,
Caring not about the poetical trove.

She let me drown in the gifted grief,
Never cared to give me a shove.

To my eyes, it was just another blip,
Her hand was never in my glove.

The calm sound of happiness fife,
Than ego, she wants it not above.

It is strange how she lost grip,
Always like a princess dove.

Melted in heat of real life,
Such was her waxy love.
Rhyme scheme:
A
B

C
B

A
B

C
B

A
B

C
B

A
B

Rhyming is not a job for the dumb.
They hate rhyming poems.
Such fake inferior poets please excuse me.

HP Poem #1293
©Atul Kaushal
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