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When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say
thinking of times
when walking for a mile
took you into a different world
climbing a hill
    through clinging underbrush
filled you with apprehension
of what might be awaiting you
beyond the crest

then
to slowly open up
the pages of a book
was always more
than just a ritual of escape

the not so casual touch
    of a girl’s hard breast
    a boy’s lean hand
upon your shoulder
sent shudders down your spine
of inarticulate hot expectations
and brought wild images to you
at night
in lusting isolation

to keep this core
   the sense of awe
   of wonder and excitement
alive in you against the waves of many years
is not an easy feat
   yet worth the while

it makes you see
    when many just walk by
life’s gracious beauty of small moments

                        * * * *
 Jun 2018 sheila sharpe
Edera
Warm
with her fragile leaves
are the lands
of his autumn.

Quiet,
o so quiet

And in the dusk
it rains
tenderness.
Take me to the Rookery with its many paths
A tea house selling refreshments in pretty glass
Three striped lollies covered in chocolate beads
Biscuits and sandwich are all that we need.

The garden was set out, in brick oblong beds
Raised from the ground and divided by hedge
Many bush roses, of the older kind, smelling of
Cold cream and sweet camomile.

There was a terrace with steps leading down
To a sunken garden where the roses reclined
Hanging over arbours, pink , white and cream
And other perennials added to the scene.

This place a haven at the top of Streatham hill
Does anybody know it, it might be there still?
My daddy took me often on a Sunday afternoon
To ramble in the sunshine, and play at my will.


Love Mary x
 Jun 2018 sheila sharpe
Ash
Bright Eyes
I know you stare at me while I sleep
Try making me close my eyes by kissing
my eyelids when i awake,
Bright Golden eyes,
Telling me more  when you steal glances at me,
Bright Golden eyes,
To my heart you bring pure surrender
Bright Golden eyes,
Though your lips remind me everytime,
That you love me all the time,
Bright Golden eyes,
Tell me more,
Bright Golden eyes,
Tommorow the sun will rise and I will come back,
I miss you and I love you
Bright dark blue eyes mine
Bright golden eyes yours
Till tomorrow. I love you
Bright Golden eyes I won't take long
We come from broken families,
you and I
hating ourselves for years.
People did terrible things,
to us
at times willingly, most of the times..
not.

Where their lives end,
the places they ruined,
we try to rebuild,
find shelter in broken shells
in each others bruised and battered
hands

And I know it's hard,
it takes a thousand broken things,
to get to a part,
of life,
that gives you strength
again.

You know the good place,
you can see it,
it exists
We have been there
many times
it's not just one place
there are countless
and one is
somewhere between our two bodies
and minds
waiting for us to mend

I wish to be whole,
even with all these fragments missing,
I want to be whole with you
but healthy, simply, easy,
careful
to not be one
who is just as broken
and terrified
and lonely
as the people we once
knew.

What does it take
I ask us
It takes
a softness
found
between
sheets
of
naked
truths
and a toughness
only found
between two
that have endured.
Writing poetry is like
having a gun at your head
bullets for breakfast
blood on the bed

and few can understand
the words that you planned
would change the
world.

it's a suicide
****** on the inside
and it kills me on
the outside,

I write
even though it might
make me crazy.
I've lived a sheltered life
one home, no wife
just plodding along
day after day
doing no wrong
doing okay
I've not got far
but who's to judge
don't need no car
I prefer to trudge
they say I will live
to a ripe old age
as long as I live
without a cage
one day I might reach
the endless ocean
stretch out on the beach
and cease all motion
but I guess for now
I will keep on going
following the vow
this wind is blowing.
My life as a tortoise.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ByTTuPgnsNP/
The dachshund loves her kiddie pool
The honeybees love theirs
The dachshund splashes to get cool
The bees mind their affairs
(Honeybees cannot launch from water, so I keep freshly-cut leafy limbs in their pool.)
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