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we sat at a compete
the author knew that
there is a tie or secret
between us or our heart

he ordered to sit in wide
he ordered to tell what i like
to meet and talk and write

we took two parts of papers
she wrote
i wrote
he took
he opened

she wrote my name
i wrote her name

the attendants were so amazed
they cut thier hands for clapping
the love is a ray sending in equal between two hearts
Bettlejuice Jun 4
Lost and alone
I’m bleeding inside
Nowhere to run from the pain in my mind
Washed up and buried alive is me
The only lyrics I can remember writing
Asiah Mangham May 27
He tried to write on me and call it art.
I wrote myself and called it love.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
once upon a wrote


here and there, in fables and tales,
some in no guile and others
in chancier disguises,
some sine-known and some sign-unknown,
some dead in stillbirth,
some penned these words,
some a few decades old,
some of but a moment ago eyelash distant,
making me think that
someday I will scribe,
cobble some truths and
some falsehoods into one
leaping heaping melting scoop,
letting you decide,
which for better,
which for worse...


<•>

"No matter that plain words
are my ordinary tools,
With them I shall scribe the small,
Cherish the little, grab the middle,
Simplicity my golden rule,
Write they say,
about what you know best,
Surely in the diurnal motions,
The arc of daily commotion,
Do we not all excel?"

<•>

the reason we say so oft,
in whispers emboldened,

I love you

to our children
is not the utility of
its summarizing brevity

no, no.
it is because
the eloquence of simplicity
supersedes any other poem
any of us could ever write...

<•>

is this craft that chose you,
not defined by machine millimeters,
precision absolute,
curvatures, so eye-pleasing,
they demonstrate no tolerance
for tolerance of the ordinary?

the skill of words, too, cut so fine,
find the  extraordinary within,
refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite,
the reused,
discard the instant recognition,
unusable

<•>

There are natural toxins in us all,
if you wish to understand the
whys, the reasons,
of the nearness of taking/giving away
what soully belongs to you,
do your own sums,
admit your own truths,
query not the lives of others,
approach the mirror...

<•>

The Truth Burden
is the accursed need obligatory,
the sacred sanctity requisitioned,
when the whenever,
chooses to drop in and upflag the mailbox,
an uninvited invitation,
announcing with precise bluntness,
that precisely now,
is the tool crafted moment
and you fool,
the selected tool

you must render unto Ceaser,
by your own hand,
render your own rendering,
do your own undoing,
go forth and in haste,
will thyself into the cauldron of the
Great Mystery of Creation

you cannot lie in poetry

<•>

come, sit for awhile, in poet's nook,
soft pillows for our hard Adirondack chairs,
situe hard by the bay, if too hot, we'll slow
drift to the sun room of
lace curtains and suicide poems,
still we'll observe the water, the rabbits, the cacophony low,
listening to all the noisier, nosier
creatures asking themselves,
and the trees and leaves,
where did all those poets come from?

<•>

to the interior delve,
via brush or limb,
pen or music,
the exposition, the exploration,
the reconstruction of composing
one's self, creation and destruction
of your own myths

movement of arms and legs,
sparseness of simplicity,
subsidiaries of centricity,
tributaries of complexity

<•>

how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem

the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?

there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, welded and wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever extinguish


<•>

now I ken better distance 'tween
artist and art,
I, a workingman's
daily dallying in simplistic machine craft,
my works deservedly lost in
the water-falling
of the endless also rans

non-nebulous distances.between skies of
Oregon country blue and
the worldy worn asphalt grayed words of
a graying man aging,
then let clarity speak, in plainest harmony,
know my deference’s soars to the high above,
one of us at birth, god gifted,
was not I,
it ain't me babe, but
one of us, his tongue,
like Moses-stung
with a hot coal
of language's divinity


<•>
She was like the moon,
      They wrote 'about' her not 'for' her.
Poetic T Mar 9
Every page that I wrote upon
                        scribbling words
                                 syllable features
of the faces I was trying to peel on
                            the pages.

But then I ******* each one up,
           reflections sewn on again.
blunt metaphors reattached
                                    that I had
           been able to remove where

one again back where they began.

All I needed was to remove this
                                 weight hanging
heavy upon my every façade.
I miss the touch of her hand and to wake up on
morning light knowing
my darling was laid
there beside me

Those beautiful Intimate moments that loved ones share behind closed doors and away from watching eyes of the world

Those beautiful moments that were shared but you know In a heart that now you're loved one your partner In In life soul mate departed from
life

The realisation hits hard knowing never ever will you love that way again like animal In the wild that's lost Its
Mate
all that's left memories In vast wilderness of nothing but loneliness because you In your heart you will never love that way
again your lifetime partner has gone

The one woman you really got you to know and fell In love with and just like the ending of a performance on stage and then the curtains fall for Helen has truly left the
building
Memories, while I laid awake, can't sleep so I wrote this poem
just love writing of Helen
Rain Feb 6
“Roses
are red,
violets are blue.
I hope
you love me,
because I really
love you.”

But when the roses are done
And the violets do fade
I turn my head
To hide this facade
And we’ll go on living
Like we are in love
When really there’s nothing
Nothing but dust
This is an addition to a poem titled “Roses are Red” by a wonderful poet called Masha Yurkevich (she wrote what’s in quotes). She’s a great writer, and you guys should go check her out!
She wrote to her husband
Her husband was a sergeant

At the military of the greatest force
His president announced and insisted

That the president of Iraq gained
Nuclear and chemicals at his force

That was a reason to spread devil
All surroundings, all neighbors
So they must go to clear that sand

From every worst flying at all
Weather causing threading of any development
Causing threading to his neighbor
Especially his relative Israel
She sits at the heart setting

And the gulf countries which export oil
And give money if he wanted
According to his service and his guard

They obeyed him as they were feared
Of losing their thrones and also was feared
Of threatening of their worst neighbor

They paid every cost of that military job
He persuaded the public of his want
To destroy the army of Iraq force
To establish peace and democracy plans

And make Iraq advanced as they are
To get his dream achieved
Her husband was so honest
And believed in everything that president said

The army forces flew and took every weapon
They went also by sea ships
To achieve victory over that vain

They fought and made tricked
They used bad and evil plan
The wife wrote that letter”

Oh! Lover
I saw you there
Wide, wide of my look

But you are nearest of my heart
That I saw you are the greatest hero
But I doubt when I saw sad

Cover every face of Iraq people
, the difference appeared between communities
That made me happy for our nation

Want to establish the happy all over the world
But when I saw the statue of Iraq president fallen
The wealth and ancient ruins were stolen

, the oil must be exported
, their author would become according to desire
Of political author of our land
, the poor covered all weather

After they were the richest people
And the hanging of Iraq president
To be sacrifice on the Muslim's feast

As the Muslims do on feast
They sacrificed with cows or sheep
For helping poor for their God

The message sent to all of them
You have no price
, you have no aim to look up

Obey our want
Or you will be killed
Even you are very important!

My lover! Come please
We will not share that war
It is obvious bad at all

It is for money and humbled others
To do what we want without opposed
The God doesn't order that

Jesus said in his order
Spread the love all over the world
Make the peace your symbol

Islam religion in his greeting
Peace upon you when one passed
He invited you to get food

We rewarded him by killing
God does not satisfy with that
Jesus hates the blood bleeding
My lover! Return, we will build

A palace near an ocean
We will fish and hunt
Live as our god giving  
Or we will cultivate land

The plants will grow green as your eyes
The wheat sticks are yellow as your hair
Flowing the wind as my hair
Return to complain our problems

To union in one bodies
I will make you my angel
Flying in sky, dreaming with kind
Making you forgotten yourself
And getting me forgetting myself

We will unites at one body
One heart, one mind
Return soon, I will not complain
I will be your honey you want"

She closed the letter with beauty kissing
She sent him with great longing
She waited a lot but with astonishing

Her letter returned without answering
She knew that he would come
So, he didn't receive that mailing

On the day they were telling
She waited at airport for receipting
All right solders ascended

Then, the wounded were carrying
She ran to his boss
She found coffin were downing

She looked to his boss,
Who covered his face with crying
She felt overwhelming
When she was up,

She cried," why my God
You take my love
and let who made it?




-
the war is the awful thing in world
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