Thelma Hunt: Favorites

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Illumination Workshop

Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Give In

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Jessie Taylor H

Give In

Don't be scared, Love;
show me your scars.
Give me a piece of your soul,
and maybe a glimpse of your mind.

I could show you beauty,
without a field of flowers.
And an amazing high,
without the foul aftertaste.

Just let me in,
let me feel your pain.
I'll touch your soul,
and make you go insane.

2/19/2017

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Disarray

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

mrmonst3r

Disarray

This bed is like a coffin
With a burial each night.
I could tell you where
it all went wrong
But it wouldn't make it right.
I'm never worth
Remembering
You each showed me that.
With your pretentious self obsession
Words that always fell flat.
Each day is long and empty.
I cannot find my way,
So forgive me
Graciously
While I slowly fade away.

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Tasting Upon Her Ocean Spray

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Poetic T

Tasting Upon Her Ocean Spray

Her scent was ambrosia on his lips,
swimming within oceans
hearing the waters calling.

Waves gently lapped upon features.
As the ripples settled, he could taste
the essence of her, drowning in pleasure.

#naughty #oral #yummy

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

washing and cleansing my heart (a true story)

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Olivia A Keaton

washing and cleansing my heart (a true story)

I wish it would
well rain harder
I wish that
the sky water would be salty
like my tears.
this way both could slide down my face unidentifiable
I wish the thunder was louder
just to help save me from my thoughts

I love how
well simply how
I'm walking to the beat,
crunching gravel to meet the sound
of my favorite song
even though it's no longer playing
I love that
the rain is blurring my vision
eventhough I couldn't see anyway
I love that with every step
I'm taking a shower
the rain provides me with good cleansing
I'm slowly scrubbing away every
remark, laugh, judge, scar and stain
and as my jeans, blouse, and shoes get wet,
I'm washing away some of this too
hidden deep within the seams

and yet some people wonder
why
why does she like the rain
well
It's not just rain
it's a friend
that I can talk to and actually leave with
a cleansed soul.

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Guitar

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Denise huddleston

Guitar

I hold you tight up against my body
I take you with me even to the party

I rub you back and forth
Up and down from south to north

I love the way you sing hard and soft
I just can't keep my hands off

I pull you close
From coast to coast

You are beautifully sound
I will never pass you around

Magnificently perfect
You have all of my respect

You are my best friend
Till the end

Written by: Denise Huddleston

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

THE ESTABLISHMENT

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

phil roberts

THE ESTABLISHMENT

Never trust the establishment
They do not exist for our benefit
For they believe that we exist
For their convenience
Their only purpose is self-perpetuation
And they think that our only function
Is to accommodate that purpose
Whereas our true cause should be
To get rid of the *******

By Phil Roberts

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

My Father's Daughter

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

L B

My Father's Daughter

I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week

Thank you everyone for the views and comments.  The Daily was a nice surprise this evening.

There were five of us kids.  I was the only one who ever did anything like this.  It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.

My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied,  "Getting some air."

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

weeds

May 2017 Thelma Hunt

Joel M Frye

weeds

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days. Thank you.