There is no poetry that will stop being written because every day a young poet is born and love is born every day.

I feel the need to get away to another place in time
I indeed have you on my mind
If I am in the mood for romance I will dance to your tune
I hope to meet you again soon
If I need to spice up my life with mystery or suspense you will me my guide
When I need to learn a historical fact  you will happily oblige
The sky is the limit of the adventures in store for me when I am with you
I have had the joy of discovering you at a young age
You sometimes appear alone
You sometimes come in trilogy's
You sometimes are contained in many volumes
You share with me some sonnets, poems or prose
You are held within a blanket of various colors and textures
  You are at times  in pristine condition or weathered and worn
  You are at times leather bound no matter how you are arrayed
   I have not strayed from my love of the written word
    I will take another look and pick up and read my favorite book

Words never said
Only written down
Never seen by anyone
Never noticed
The smile on my face
It's only fake
My happy attitude only comes from force
Leave it to me
To see a tool
A box cutter
And only think about stealing the blade
Not for cutting a box though
Written words
Words unspoken
Silence is the loudest scream
Tell that to everyone else
Written words
Not on paper but skin
Written words
Not with ink but blood
Scars forming
Never to go away again

In the last few years
I have written
My thoughts and the many emotions
Sometimes I have let them flow
in words I know
Other times have let them simmer and vaporise
There is Knowledge gained and wisdom too
Many times both evade, dimmed by hazy thoughts
Lessons that I have learned and try to implement
To never share the joys and sorrows
with people who don’t understand, neither
And that knowledge and ignorance can both be bliss
When gained
And when one learns to ignore

I have never written about you                                          
The bond we share,
The chance to be one, which I blew.
You mend us and tried to clear the air,
But I already accepted the fall which I knew.
I am responsible for every tear, I swear.
You were right and always true.
I regret but, to accept this in past, I scare.

you haven’t written me a love poem in so long


around midnight,
two too together,
climb in to bed,
covers tucked,
up to their chins,
happy old souls
settling in 4 the evening...

suddenly followed,
by a furious
sixty seconds of
running and rubbing,
semi-serious sinning,
hands up ‘n down
any part, nearest, handy,
public or private, dandy,
maybe even a minute moaning,
a simple reassurance,
a kind of insurance,
covering bases,
first, second and third,
yeah, he/she to me, attracted...

exhausted, contorted,
exalted, these two fossils,
rising like a holy ghosts,
from the dust bin of
a jointed storied history,
begin to race, who will,
be first to sleep-snoring...

yet

one of them thinking
in those waning moments,

you haven’t written me
a love poem in so long,

the other, thinking happily,

ha! finally learned to keep
poems, short and simple

and both of them
kaput, lights out darkened,
until coffee arrives by
seven thirty morn light,
handmade, by hand delivered...

I count the minutes
I count the minutes until we can be together
You are missed my friend
  My first love
  I knew it from the moment I first picked up a pen
You never judge me
  You seem to always love me
You make sense out of  my every silly thought
  In fact at times you turn the weirdest ideas
  Into an inspired work of art
  For these reasons and oh so many more
  I will love always love you
  I will come visit you soon  
   When  I get to take a  break because things are so hectic right now
   Hopefully soon for my sanity's sake
    You except me even with all my mistakes
   Lets plan for June
   I will meet you again soon
   I will bring a notebook and pen
   My love and friend
    Your name is like a sweet melody we all sing to your tune
     Hello Sweet
    POETRY <3  
I never want to say Goodbye to You!

There are stories
Written short to the naked eye
But to the eye of the poet;
There are potential volumes
Of verses and lyrics
Occasional verses and ballads

Hidden all around
Some at first so beautiful
Petals of a bright red rose
The color, fragrance, and corolla appeal
Then seen are the thorns
Sharp as small daggers
Some never to ***** flesh
Others bound to draw blood

Healthy presentation
Good taste and style
Sweet little smile
Glimmering eyes
Melodic voice
Thoughtful and observant
So why the hesitation?

Were those eyes truly glimmering,
Or were they swarming flies,
Hovering over a rotting heart?

That melody
Could it have been giving a choice?
Be wary and don't take the bait
Or be lured by a siren?

Was that thoughtfulness of pure intent
Or will it be a future lament?
Were they so observant
Because they were captivated by you
Or to use blackmail and make you a servant?

- Jay M
April 29th, 2020