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All the fairies from green valley congregated
by a stream flowing from a nearby hill
They are planning to throw a huge party
with gifts for ladybugs and daffodil,

"Welcoming spring's arrival in February,
Hidden surprises and mystic love potion
Super salads, cupcakes and green tea
Brings together everyone like an ocean"

In the neighboring woods come friends
Humble mommas and baby fawn
Ducklings going quack, quack, quack
following  moms across the lawn

Honeybees, bumblebees, and baby chicks
Lovely songbirds all singing of spring
and bunnies living down cranberry lane
In a sparkling castle made of bling

Enjoying love poetry and dancing all day
Everyone is having so much fun
Everyone is having a fabulous fun time,
blowing tons of kisses to the sun
she loved you.
she did.
she really did.
but
you didn't mind her,
you wasted her,
and now it's over.
February's crescent moon adorns the sky
like a lovely golden pendant one wears
on prom night with that special guy
O' crescent moon, O' crescent moon
leaves all the girls and guys dreamin'
With thoughts of those lazy days in June
when sleeping under diamond stars
and a crystal moon was heaven
 Feb 2018 Jonathan Poole
cat
your lips
remind me
of the words
my hands
wish
they had the courage
to write
 Feb 2018 Jonathan Poole
mikhaila
do you still love me
do you still love m
do you still love
do you still lov
do you still lo
do you still l
do you still
do you stil
do you sti
do you st
do you s
do you
do yo
do y
do
d
di
did
did y
did yo
did you
did you e
did you ev
did you eve
did you ever
did you ever l
did you ever lo
did you ever lov
did you ever love
did you ever love m
did you ever love me
It haunts us, we are scared of it.
But we spend a lot of time thinking about it.
We walk around wanting it.
It drives us, makes us passionate.
Ditch everything we know just to chase it.
Wake up the next morning hoping to revisit.

It is different for each person, and we try to make the most of it.
Next year we make a bunch of promises, and swear to it.
No more this, no more that, but more of it.
Finally be the person we want to be, get really fit.
Time passes by, we forget it.
Maybe next year we will regret it.

Once you look around, you will remember it.
Slow things down, take a glance, it will hit.
Every second counts, do not ever quit.
You only get it once, before you split.

It is called life, cherish it.
Am I just a wheel?
Consuming meals?
A speck in blue sea?
Bound by what I see?
Life amongst trees?
Breathing means free?

Am I my beliefs?
The truth I seek?
Flag of a country?
Defined by currency?
A liability?
Part of society?

Am I what you see?
The way you judge me?
The values you pick?
First impressions stick?
Norm defined by you?
Do I dare to be rude?

No...

I am who I choose.
I fill my own shoes.
I win when I lose.
I create my own views.
I see black beyond blue.
I pick me over you.

Who are we?
I am me.
Who are we?
Depends on you.
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
This is one of the sample stories in my new book, "BitterSweet," which has become a #1 New Release on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/BitterSweet-Lior-Gavra/dp/0999497103/
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