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 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
Saumya
Words that I say,
You don't get.
Heart that I pour out,
You distrust.

All things I do for you,
You interrupt.
You take my love for granted,
Misconidering it, to be 'lust'

We are far,
Far to be friends,
Far to even trust,
Far enough, to distrust,
Misinterpreting things to lust!
I guess, tears, remorse
And laments all

That will ever be the element,
Of the impossible 'Us'
A real story.

Thanks for reading :)
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
LightShade
*
I loved him

so much

yet

it
wasn't
e n o u g h
to make
him

S t a y
...
it was all I had, and it wasn't enough
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
soyun
There is a certain Beauty in Brokenness
And Purpose in Pain.
Helpless, when so many have died.
Can we do nothing but hurt inside?
Those can’t go home, no matter who cried.
Yet we never set those guns aside.
We listened while politicians lied
And even when some of us tried
Too many took up the other side
And insisted they were on the right side
The godly side, the intelligent side.
But they too were wrong or just lied.
And fifty eight, so far, have horribly died.

So, who is in the right here?
We ask year after year.
Why do we sell illogical fear
To allow weapons to be sold here
That are not used to shoot deer
Or game for food, but it is clear
They are for shooting people here
In our own country, not in Tangier
Or Kabul, killing strangers for fear
They’ll take away our freedom here
And very much like some King Lear
Trust all the wrong people. It’s clear.

Every eight years, we go insane
And let America’s worst bane
Take over what still remains
Of a splendid land that retains
The intentions and words of the sane;
The founders of our nation, and again
Give it all away “to elect for change’
Without consideration for the pain
That it took; the blood and the pain
To fight those who hate freedom’s name
And then to elect them back in again.

They are only too glad if we ****
And maim and destroy at will
As long as it's the poor we ****
And not their beloved on their hill.
That is too bitter of a pill
For them to take, so they shill
And subvert and always will.
They’ll approve the crazy skill
It takes to sit up on a hill
And shoot people at will.
They never quite get their fill.

So, when will we people get wisdom
And ban those repeating weapons
Being sold ***** nilly in the kingdom
Of hate, greed without sound reason?
When will we see that we are with them?
Just another human like their women
Brothers, fathers and even their children
That can be erased by their bad decisions
To let more nameless, brainless buy weapons
That have no good solid application
Except a bullet to the brain of our nation.
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
Glow
Little boat
On the sea
Little boat
Sails with me

Little boat
New winds blow
Little boat
You have to go

Little boat
Feeling blue
Little boat
Can't sail with you

Little boat
I'm on the shore
When you come back
We'll sail once more
amid scurrying feet
in the whirling humanity
with divided aims
and sizzling brains
she paused with singularity of purpose

never in a hurry, more at peace
on a park bench, alone
bent and weird, she sat.
when she moved
her bones creaked
on rusty hinges!

ragged in dress, torn in body,
face scourged by Time,
its contours deep like ravines
her withered *******
hanging like nests of tailor birds
hair lying disheveled,
with eyes shrouded in mist
she looked out into the sinking sun,
never dreading the darkness that falls

the park bench was her temporary halt

she sat there every evening
determined to live on,
with the coins habitually dropped
into her outstretched hands
by those sailing past her
unobtrusive self.

like a monument of patience
she sat.
sat, so alone!
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