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 Jul 2018 sheila sharpe
Tupelo
Far across foreign seas
Stood a golden isle
With monuments to
unfamiliar gods
and songs I did not
know how to sing
The days melted
into mystic evenings
But somewhere along the way
On that golden isle
I found my faith again
It laid buried beneath the sand
Next to nameless corpses
That all looked the same
when the insects
finally finished their work
How simple this is to truly understand
Stars streaked past.
Stars shining at an all time high.
Brighter than the lights in our eyes it shines.
We kissed, we danced.
Our fingers intertwined as the world around us collapsed.
Dancing and singing our favourite songs among tree tops, we danced towards the light.
Although afraid of heights.
We soared.
High above the failures and the depths of the sea.
High up in the sky in symphony.
My forehead touched yours.
And yours touched mine.
The winds of our hearts carried us as we danced away...the world becoming the room where we danced in before.
Where we met.
The stars becoming the light bulbs hanging in the dusty old room.
The space around us folded us in like an origami.
Things didn't make sense.
I wish I never find it.
I don't want to get lost in your gaze.
Lest I fall into the hole of your pupils,
lest I collapse when you leave.
Lest I tried to erase you from my memory.
Lest I lose you and I can't survive...
Let's...stay as friends...
Laughter is the best medicine, I've heard it said
So don't take a pill, laugh a little instead
Laugh with the world or laugh at yourself
Laughter isn't a medicine that expires on the shelf

Tell a silly story or a really good joke
You don't know whose laughter your bound to provoke
even a giggle goes a long way
When you're feeling down and are having a bad day

When you don't know what to do, cause your life is a mess
Laugh really loud to deal with the stress
So laughter is the medicine that I recommend
Remember that things workout in the end

Forget the ***** and enjoy the laughter
Then you won't wake up with a hangover the day after
I'll live my life and laugh all I can
Cause I'm laughter's number one fan
I love to laugh and do it as much as I can.
It's a great stress reliever and you can even burn calories laughing, so it's a win, win.....RIGHT!
He is there but nobody sees him
He speaks but no one can hear
He lives his life in confinement
And no one ever comes near.
To watch him He looks rather lonely
He is lost that is perfectly clear.
Once a child in the arms of his mother
And his father would always be near.
But parants don't last forever
And soon they are no longer here
Now there  is nobody out there
To chase away all of his fears.
He walks to his flat he has no one
Loneliness his only friend
Is this what he really lives for
With nothing to show at the end.
Let's start from the very beginning
It happens in this day and age
Take note of this lonely stranger
Invisible in so many ways.
Watched a documentary a couple of years ago about the amount
Of people who live on their own it was amassing. Although this poem
Is a true case of a man who really was let down by the people around
Him saddly he was like being invisible  in the eyes of the world.
He just didn't fit in with others .
The whitest snowflakes gracefully glide
They settle on trees and towers of mine
The dark of the cave I'd gladly abide
A warm shelter from the frost outside
Night settles, I run to a tower of mine
Through thin glass I watch my first sunset
Over a grand forest of spruce and pine
Transfixed, I learn this I cannot forget.
And yes. My tracks had farewell longtime
I've journeyed far lands throughout my prime
But as I dwell upon this memory
The home I'd know only until then
My eyes pour upon the discovery:
I remember. I feel the frost again.
One each end of a shelf
Victorian figurines
A boy and girl
Like crystalline
With stiff edged lace.
Never fell in love
But still precious
Bought by a Godmother
Who did not have children.

Then the plaster dancers
Spied in a box of my father’s
Given by a poor grandmother
Loved these two
With their net “tutus”
Such graceful arms
Long pointed legs
Felt their life twirling.

The difference between
Two worlds
The rich and stiff
Poor but beautiful.
My bedroom shelf,
With a poster of
**** Jagger,
in the middle,
smiling.

Love Mary x
This was my bedroom shelf in Streatham London.
That lopper-thingie on the end of a pole
Indelicately intrudes among the leaves
Telescoped out, its harsh geometry
Unnatural among the greenery

There seeking out an elusive apple spared
The nightly browsings of the day-shy deer
Or the nightly pillagings of raccoons
Who destroy more than they will ever eat

But there’s that apple – careful, careful – snip:
And down it falls, with an apple-saucy flip!
(I nurture Anna-apple trees, which flourish in warm climates, and every June they bless me with bushels of sweet apples.)
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