It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

I ride the waves of sorrow
to join eternal bliss
I await a kindly person
to plant a gentle kiss

as i look through my window
i cannot find his light
he’s nowhere to be seen
i’m all alone tonight

his presence calmed me
silent and serene
his warm yellow shine  
a sight unseen

oh please come back soon
i miss you so much
i’m off to bed now
please stay in touch

On the bike the rider is a blazing glory
winds to him whisper hair raising story
whizz past houses, trees, and towns
wheels giggle joyous with the ups and downs.

Girls on the sidewalks look up in awe
as the speed streaks on the wrong side of law
the copper burnt hands grip the baby tight
to ride away from dark and into the light.

Through the flash of clouds, torrents of rains
sun on the mountain, sunset's pink stains
piercing the wind, cutting across rainbow
steams the metal man, in seamless flow.

Days nights roll, beneath the grey arch
on an intense pursuit, one frantic search
he looks for a place where a loving hand
will open the door to the God's resting land.

From my 20’s through my 40’s I was the very definition of svelte. Willow thin but shapely, smartly dressed at all times in what would be the next new trend coming down the fashion pipeline. I mingled with people who dabbled in fame and some of it rubbed off on me. In those days I moved in exciting circles. It was painful to watch the years take it away, one increment at a time.  The waistline expanded, new styles appeared ugly, and star studded lovers moved on. I did what I could to hold onto the shine, but I found other mountains to climb.  I conquered new vistas and gathered some trophies, while minutes and years slipped away. So subtly I didn’t pay much attention, I became an old lady who hates having to dress for her age. And refuses.

I still have the photos that prove I was lovely, but no one is asking to see them. I still have the outfits that no longer fit me; they hang in the closet to taunt me.
I’ve learned to make peace with the milieu I live in.  I’m still the svelte damsel inside. I dress in bright colors and billowing fabrics and leave the self judgement behind.
ljm

a girl kissed a boy
and told him not to tell
he grew up to be a poet
with a promise kept so well
till he wrote one day a poem
that she’s found reading, but forgot
and wondered if it’s really him
and thinking that it’s not
but buried within these pages
and hidden within the rhyme
were words dripping from his lips
caressing every line
so she came in a little closer
and read it to the end
and found him in the poem
and kissed his lips again

I pay homage to fellow poets on this site
Writing keeps me occupied at night
I appreciate their dignity and corrections
Poetry is an contrasting art of perfections

Showing us new styles and types of rhyme
While keeping meter flow and time
BLT word challenges creates cohesive style
Created progressive poems we smile

You’ve been timetabled
When chosen by HP writers Spotlight
It’s truly a remarkable night.
Is a great way to get to know a poet
deeper insight of their poems they show it

Of course, there’s always room to grow  
There’s always more to know
Poet’s poems profound stirring begins
We learn more in every poem Muse wins

The GADFLIES  can scroll on by
Leaving thumb down, is a spiteful cry
Exceptional caliber of poetry, we Strive
After all, that’s what keeps us alive

Check out these exceptional poets
Poetry in motion, perfection, as we know it;
Carlo C.Gomez, BLT, Weeping willow
You’ve Been Timetabled, Old poet MK, Nylee, Anais Violet, Mister truth,N
Lori Jones Mc Caffery, Ken Pepiton
Anais Vionot, Stephen E. Yocum,
Ken Pipiton, Pradip Chattopadhyay,
Thomas W. Case, Guy Scutellaro
Nat Lipstrad, G Alan Johnson,
Melancholy of Innocence, My Dear Poet,
DENNY R. ALLISON