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I’d caught your eye off Broadway
One evening
Your hair pulled back
The sweat from the streets

Followed you up to
Washington Square
In Autumn leaves
You turned around and smiled

That upright bass was pumping
Crowds were swaying in
Harlem
I had my best gray suit on
Polished Florsheim wingtips
Electric maroon tie

That lipstick of yours
Made your eyes
Glitter so much goodness
The floral print of that dress
Forever
Tattooed
Upon my memory

‘It’s nice to meet you...’
And we couldn’t take our eyes
Off each other
That first night
Jazz trumpets
Trane hitting that sax
Moonshine
To go with
Moonlight

3am
Walking back south
Through the park
Your hand disappeared in mine

‘I want to see you tomorrow...
I say
‘I want to stay with you today...
You say

‘I’ll never kiss another...’
What if we don’t get up from the bed today?
Don’t call in sick
Don’t go to class
Don’t notify anybody
Who would come for us?
Would there be any concern
For days?
Hopped out of the fray
Swam to shore
Out of this
Raging River
After a week
Your employer
Your mom or dad or siblings
Would be asking if everything
Is ok
Then the bill collector
Power company
Mortgage company
After a month
You just simply decided to leave
Without telling anyone
What freedom did you achieve?
We weren’t programmed for this
To work 12-14 hour days
To die tired
&
Yet we do it everyday

Hitting snooze 5 times this morning is my only victory
An officer is
Educated in war
Combat
Conducive to Compassion
Leaders among men
Knows even when he doesn’t
Delegated
&
Dedicated
To the cause

The dead were many
On this side
And on theirs
One stood out to the
Officer
As his enlisted ripped
Toiled
&
Dismembered
His lifeless
Body

Arm broken
Skin under his nails
Riddled with bullets
Innumerable number
Of the officer’s own
Around this enemy soldier
Face covered in blood
The officer wanted to know
Why

Then it came out
The Letter
Written by him that morning
The officer unfolded

‘By the time you read this it’ll be a week until you are my Mrs., my have and to hold...my forever entrenched...’

The officer folded it neatly
Placed it back where it fell
&
Ordered his men to clean the
Soldier
As if he were his own
Who fought
Valiantly
Not to leave this world
If
Only
For
Love

‘I wish we could all fight for a love as beautiful as this...’
If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.
This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.
 Feb 2018 Angela Baerthel
Bobcat
Boy just take it easy
Boy just take it slow
Please don't give up now
You have so much further to go

Put that gun down boy
Step away from the ledge
All the demons your fighting
Don't have to stay in your head

Let me help you boy
Let me be your light
You and I together boy
We'll give 'em a hell of a fight

This is it boy
It's time for war
With me by your side
It'll be easier than before

We got this boy
We won't back down
We'll take 'em all on
We'll knock 'em to the ground

Boy let's take it easy
Boy let's take it slow
All the demons you fight
Will no longer call you home
i would do anything
to have your lips stutter my name
let your words grasp my hand
watch your eyes search for mine.

to wait for you is impossible yet divine
when we exist in places
so far from where we are destined.

we are parallel lines

i would do anything
for us to be a painting instead
i'd color you in hues of unrequited love
and put us on a frame
i'll give it to you and say

'keep it. keep us. keep me'

'why'

'because we are so much more than just parallel lines'
finally found the inspiration to write again. i believe sorrow brings out the poet in everyone.
 Feb 2018 Angela Baerthel
jess
i feel like time is
s
  l
    i
       p
          p
           i
               n
                    g.

i feel like there is more i could have done yesterday. 
 
i regret not kissing you enough yesterday,
because now i realize i can't tomorrow.

today i missed you,
it came in waves like water clashing against rocks.

yesterday i said "tomorrow you'll be okay."
and again i will tell myself, tomorrow.

yesterday wasn't as bad as today is or will be,

yesterday and tomorrow.
does it make a difference if i feel the same?  
-j.p.
i kinda fixed this one up a bit but it's pretty old - think i'll edit it again later to actually mean something because i really like the ending. sorry if my stuff doesn't make sense.
At age 7, I was guilty
when I accepted an invitation
to go into the apartment of a neighbor
He smelled of beer as he groped me.

At age 10, I was guilty
when I walked home too late
because I missed the train
He popped out of the bushes
exposing himself.

At age 12, I was guilty
when my uncle forced
tongue into my mouth
because I could not
get away.

At age 14, I was guilty
when my uncle forced
me to sit on his lap
while in my bathing suit
and I ran away from home.

At age 16, I was guilty
when my uncle convinced
everyone that I was a liar
and I quit school.

At age 18, I was guilty
when I gave birth to
my first child,
because I was ignorant.

At age 20, I was guilty
when I saw the cardiologist
in the reflection of a lamp
*******  and the
police laughed at my report.

At age 30, I was guilty
when my employer
trapped me in the elevator
to ***** me, because I
was his subserviant.

At age 36, I was guilty
when I earned jujitsu honors
but risked going to jail
for defending myself.

At age 70, I was guilty
when a neighbor brought
me fruit and grabbed my
breast, because I was alone.

At age 72, I am guilty
of being a ferule woman
for 50 years and for
NOT be silent!
How many times must a woman be guilty for her existence?
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