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You
as a soft breeze,
a hushed whisper,
a cool mist,
you came quietly
and slipped
into my thoughts

I skimmed through the sunlit
alley of a dream world
and whirled in an uneasy sensuality.

now
the embryo of love
in me
has matured into a full grown fetus
kicking at the crust of my womb
giving
the tremor
of a
forbidden
E
     C
S
      T
A
       S
Y
-

i used to imagine as i lie
on my back in the grass

looking downward from
the foot of a great oak

watching squirrels cling to
the thin twigs and wonder

what they would think if
they lost their grip and
fell into the clouds,

sensing they would
splash-land forever—

into heaven...


s jones
2021


.
30 Mar 2021
Some poems seem to write
themselves;
I just move the pen.
Others, are like lumps
of clay;
they refuse to be molded;
they need moisture and time.
This one is like
a robin that just learned
to use its wings.
It heads west, on a
gentle breeze, into
a tangerine sky.
-

in order to
"poem"
             BIG

i must learn
to write
              small...


s jones
2021


.
12 Mar 2021
 Nov 2020 sandra wyllie
Colm
All of the hopeful desires to be
Cannot be
When I see you there
And in the future unseen
See
close to one's chest
 Aug 2020 sandra wyllie
Eli
12.08.20                                    

                                     I adore watching you
                                   play with petals sinful.
                     On misty evenings during sunshine storms –
                                            you make me weak
                                   watching wandering fingers
                                          roaming depths unknown.
                            Arousal upon dancing
                            to timid moans.
                                       Tracing the lines
                                       along the map
                                                       of delicate skin
                                                  beneath your slender waist.
                                      The solo show!
                                                           ­ Performed for one;
                                              love fountains
                                                       ­  erupt.
Please refrain from reading if you are a child x
 Sep 2019 sandra wyllie
Traveler
I took over this page
When the Poet died
He had a lot of followers
And so I lied
I started writing
Under his traveling name
I’m pulling your leg
But wouldn’t that be lame?
Traveler Tim

You never know...
 Aug 2019 sandra wyllie
Traveler
Pain grounds me to reality
I can feel it while watching TV
Pokes and prods
Will you please
Figure out
  What's ill'in me...
Take some blood
Hypnotize
Figure out what will not die
Blame it all on yesterday's
Disruption is the final stage
...........................................
Traveler Tim
If "Yesterday" accepted the blame
Wouldn't yesterday own it?
It would become Yesterday's blame!

That's why it's good to keep it simple.
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