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I predict this storm system will be termed Irma-Jo. It will be the most devastating hurricane in U.S. history.

Irma-Jo, you're
Quite a crunch,
And you caught us
Out-to-lunch,
You have that hookin'
One-two punch!

Irma-Jo, oh Irma-Jo,
When you hit,
Where shall we go?
There's nowhere.
You have the odds.
Spawn of hell,
Or fist of God...

Irma-Jo,
We have been whupped
We didn't know
We'd drink this cup!
Irma-Jo... we all

GIVE UP!

[CHORUS]
Will this be the song we'll be singin' soon? Please! I love you ALL, but we need to REPENT! It's 4:05am and I can't sleep this is SO much on my HEART! PRAYING!
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
L B
On rising heat, killdeer flush
to decoy the enemy--
threat to its young that roams too close
They rush to skim on hayish blur
wailing over wildflowers drying

Fretful twitter in perpetual flight
swifts-- twirl and hurl their bits of bodies--
debris
from a cumulonimbus of a late-day sky
toward a ridge of stag horn sumac
presuming horizon primordial
behind which time and city-- drift and wobble
on rising heat-- after rush hour

*Rising Heat
Rising--
to meet my mind
on its way down
from my post behind
the laundromat
where I view it all--
rising--
where I usually go in search of quiet
to almost hear the ocean
     two hundred miles away
to strain words from wind
     in careless conversation
to wonder over
     missed whispers....

But not today
In rising heat, I went down
in search of something better--
     your eyes again
     solvent for my presence of mind
     dissolvers of hours and the order of things
But I need an excuse!
     To turn, to trespass, to disturb the peace!
     For your eyes again!
And still I need more-- being feverish, weak
Or?
Or... should I take the cure?
     To deny ...To deny

To deny what?
Overtones from a sea of years?
I don't know!  Whatever it was!
Nothing explain it...

I melt... I'm gone....
I think this feels like a song.  Wish I knew what to do with the music inside.  Written out behind the projects where i lived with my girls while finishing college. 1988
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Seema
I am called an angel
I am called a ninja
I wear silver bangles
My color is of ginger

I have doll like eyes
My figure is of a small coke bottle
I hate tales of flying lies
I live in the pacific portal

I smile when I am sad
Tears are always in abundance in me
I have a temper and I do get mad
I am only a human, you see

I love reading and adore writing
But my mouth ain't a word diarrhea
I love silence and scenery sitings
I've been writing for over an year

I am in love with my adorable dogs
Who make my lone day bright
Cloudy yet windy, misty or fogs
I love this weather, as a cold night

My inner me is a mischief child
I am in my early working thirties
My imaginative writing gets wild
I am quite authoritative

I teach info tech, I love my students
Knowledge sharing is my best part
I am intolerable to fake mutants
But, I hate to see them depart

My name is Seema and I am a free writer
With the challenges I face
Each day makes my life brighter
With the blink of time in trace...


©sim
Introduction.
The insistent whirr of the washing machine,
Cycling round and round,
Soapy water wiping away what remains of yesterday,

Striving to achieve perfection,
Through the shirt so white,
That no-one will notice the fake smile,
A pair of jeans that are glistening,
Absent of tear stains,

A washing machine that washes away the insecurities,
On the surface,
Cause no matter how hard you try,
Your insides won't go in,

You can't clean away your evening cry,
Or the voices driving you down,
Just got to cover, cover, cover,
Till there's nothing left to hide,

Till your insides have been grinded away,
With the insistent whirr of the washing machine
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Poetic T
Collecting memories
in an old book..

       But fragile thoughts
             erode within..

I had a book once,
so many colours...
      
        Now there blank
                  like my thoughts..

Reflections fade
after a time..

       My body is here
           farewell to me reflection..

I know longer know
who stares back at me..

          Tears fall, I know not why,
                         but still they descend.
                    

     I'm a book of many pages
                      but all the ink has gone dry..
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Poetry First
woo me, untrap me, free me –
         lug me into Woods of Freedom,
              bright and of unhindered green
                    perched on Tree of Life
                         as we chirp lyrics of love
                          wrap me in your arms
                        to coil me in twirls
               of your affection umpteen

                     embed me in the Abode Of Bliss
                            in ambrosial chamber
                              of desire and emotions
                                possess my soul
                                and as pour pearls of bliss
                             release me in the River of Amor
                        in currents of it’s rapturous swirls

                  under the silver allure of moon
                      flames on the Mount of Desire
                             let rise the fire and consume
                                 until come falling within us
                               a million stars exploding
                                    
                  ­          then from the Bed of Stardust
                                    to world let’s arise anew
                                           amid beams of bliss
                                           with a bow   to know
                                    of love’s bounteous bestow
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Smoke Scribe
crazy idea, silly notion,
then again,
come back, circle around,
why not, you ask yourself

now prior to posting hereon,
every word with extra care reviewed

sharing, checking in
with my beloveds,
here, those gone/disappeared

telling myself
telling anyone,
talking to you
letting you know
my grace, your grace,
one and the same,
my face, your face,
my child, my son

know you're
checking in,
checking out,
the comings,
the goings,
knowing full and well,
I see you,
my face, your face
everywhere and everyday

our conversation never ending,
look for me here,
at the intersection
of memory and what's up,
you see my messages,
responding in a thousand
different ways,
our dialogue unending,
formally organized
Face to Facebook,
your face, my Facebook
my child, my son
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Madeon
Easier
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Madeon
There is nothing easier
than to complicate everything!
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Paul Jones
The blackberries on the railway path are ripe.
  The woodland birds are quick to take their share,
while purple fingers pick amongst the hype
  and rabbits hop in the hedgerow somewhere.
A cool wind spirals, rustling fallen leaves,
  carrying distant cries along its way
and bending the amber-tinged tips of trees.
  The sound of summer joys are in decay.
They soften, becoming calmer, quiet,
  like tired eyes in need of time to sleep.
There are some feelings I cannot forget
  and memories I will forever keep.
Meet me along the railway path, my dear,
  to breathe the mellow, autumn atmosphere.
19:00 - 07/09/17
Sonnet - 28 -
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Mystic904
Do you really think you're never gonna die
The day shall come, you'll know this was all a lie
'Tis, a four day journey
Two days of desire, two days of pie

No one knows what's gonna happen in the grave,
Once the man's put, nothing wakes up the dark eye
The punishment he pays for, is not seen but felt
The wealth he gave his life for, is nowhere at sight

His life was just the same as of a potato blight,
When he was asked to look at the beneficial light
But he didn't bat an eye at the given advice
Nor did he take a look at his hair full of lice

Everyday he would eat a full plate rice,
Still no sign of thankfulness, despite
Was he deaf, or was he blind
Even the disables are not as lost as he was at night

The whole story seemed like a joke to him,
But sorry, it's too late to make everything right (while being placed in the coffin)
Anyways it's too late to write,
Let me have an apple to bite
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