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Raymond Crump Jun 2011
Who are who look
Through gazed window
Attention glazed whom
        None knew who steal
        Care sought answer
Who mute at window move

Slight shadow
Droplet tears
Lost city ghost

Who forensic wonder
Who cutaway found
Uncertain broken ground
Cloud circling shark

Shards of thought
Diamond scratch the glass
Weekend wilted grass view
Litter blown listless below

The weighted cloth
The china clog
The fireplace tiles
Cold as dead stars.



dec 2009
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2018
VD/ lasting life

I have VD.

the decapitating, desiccating disease slow taking over

every day another word withers and there are no replacements

the diminishing returns cannot be substituted and all losses are
permanent, like Samson’s hair, once cut, cannot grow back

I live alone.  Easier then conversing,
gaps in your sentences,
****** communication that is pointless anyway

banished by overuse and incapacitated;
tarnished by time, silver polish resistant;
too late for inoculation the cortex eroding;
the Vocabulary Diminishment has cost me so far:

rain and all its weathered relations;
sad and it’s variant cousins;
body partition arrhythmia, breathtaking breathing loving has
jumped overboard

lasting life

never bothered me that verse and curse rhyme so fittingly,
fit for life, for ‘tis nothing but re-racked intermittent rhymes,
reasoned rhythms connecting the intermittent mayhem’s
dropping by for fun and choosing, verse or curse

nevertheless, won’t bother to explain the difference
between last and lasting, leave it for you to self-teach-taught

nonetheless,  body is degrading, the needs grow strongly weaker and the bites taken out by time, her, imagination, p ain,
even worse words disappear, f irst a letter the hole s aces are
modern art product, avant garde  at the finish line

empties remain as abscesses with all-access passes,
cortex locked on only receive is busted and most of your
transmissions go direct to the
Junk mail folder

winter drags and summer now a vision of was and no longer a
will be, a thrilling sensory palace with a closed sign
appliqué to my weakened ayes

time to rise time, to shave, put on the cutaway uniform
when you obtain the obligatory occasional I love you
and it winces, and tears still come easy
when you want them too
but you don’t want them to arrive or
let depart the ones that presently dry
of their own according in their place

mechanics of writing are obstacles and the cherished
lovely fluidity of transportation traveling transformation is searingly wearing and beyond the just,
the reach, of the true meaning of meme
which means has no more to communicate

the days of slow wasting away,
when the touch is worse
you say out out loud to the tiles
shave away the slough, flush the fallen skin cells,
just cut me down, these bad poems are too onerous
when the brrrain is hardened ice ball hitting forehead

so we go away in every sensory hurrah
retired to solitary ask no questions expect no answers
dreaming of healings but that is another self-starting movie
dreaming sequence that has been erased

fearsome, the energy drinks required to survey survival,

much easier to bid adieu and bypass au revoir

the standard set can be modified or erased
and everyone wants a shortcut lesson to skip to the
top of the line, are they unaware that line will choke au fin

important meetings ahead, assembly the solutions and your
children want answers and you give them a mirror and implore
them do better than thy lousy training

don’t make no difference, their genomes contain
mon nom so they come cursed and I who wrote, shot prayers
on skywriting writ, have none to offer present-lies

poor babies too long this elegy, too bad for you
work is hard and no r&r location on my list and short
attention spans will bring you low in world of words


say bad bye to over loved companions

https://hellopoetry.com/words/

the Vocabulary Diminishment disease don’t permit
reuse: true colors needed crest creation and all the
breaks are bad and the words have fled my pointer
fingerprint fingertip

code only in 0’s;
it’s like having halve a tongue
and if you were among the lucky few who knew my visage,
look away look away and let this too long spaghetti sauce be
recipe thrown away my vision is satisfied

3:11 am and no more
s words to fall upon
Esther L Krenzin Apr 2019
I have been unmade and made anew
bolts loose, screws askew
metal stitches holding jagged words abrew
Light a match, no make it two
don't smile at me
I know its true
don't construe my issue
with you
respects not owed and its not due
don't feed me lies
my trust you blew
spooned shards of glass
masked subterfuge.

Don't cast me out
don't look away
I'm a stowaway
renegade
castaway
what makes you think I will obey?
I know the face that I portray
like I'm asking to be betrayed
but cut some slack, bits of leeway
I'll scrounge for scraps
don't make me pay
you cut my tongue, I won't soothsay
the odds for me will soon outweigh
just watch I'll drop this masquerade
and I'll cutaway
to counterweigh
this disarray
replay
this wordplay
display of
swordplay
'cause I'm a stowaway
renegade
castaway

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
st64 Apr 2013
Och, you and your divine shape  
How beautiful you are to me  
  
You drive me wild with want  
I simply cannot master you!  
  
You are oft'times hard to get  
But nary shall I quit you  
  
Tune my heartstrings up a notch  
Fret forever, I try to get it right  
  
You quiver exquisite at my touch  
A ravishing delight to my ravenous senses  
  
Would you GIVE a STAR for my attempts  
Don't over tease my nerves to distraction!  
    
I slave intense o'er you, day and night  
Yes, you're the one with the hold on me  
  
Look at the inevitable shape I'm in  
All 'cause-a you and your curvy shape!  
  
The airline broke your sister's neck  
Yah mon, I cried, mah Lord. I all but died, ha!  
  
Caught in a quagmire of deep distress  
You, my comely cutaway, pegged me up again.  
  
Love to cradle you on my eager lap  
My arms around in close embrace  
  
A gentle, organic creature, such as you  
I dare not grip you hard at all.  
  
My fingertips so acquainted with your girth  
Your rosette rings out my notes with charm.  
  
Enchanting me with deep nuance  
Without trying, she pleases so!  
  
The sole bridge 'tween the world and me  
My subtle love, only my Valencia.....  



S T,  04 Avril 2013
Can ye guess ......?

Would ye believe how happy she makes me....aaahhh, pure heaven!
judy smith Aug 2016
As an avid golfer, Nashville resident Victoria Kopyar couldn’t find fashionable-but-functional clothing she wanted to sport on the fairway.

Tapping into her background in retail merchandising, product development and sourcing, Kopyar decided to take the matter into her own hands and launched women’s golf and activewear label VK Sport.

“When I was looking at the market, I saw there were a lot of men’s pink shirts, not a lot of print and pattern and not a lot of styling to it. …I really felt nothing was flattering the female figure and I wanted something that fit me well,” Kopyar said.

The first collection launched in August 2015 with golf retailer Golfsmith.com. Kopyar expects sales will be 10 times higher in the first full year in business as she zeroes in on growing VK Sport’s e-commerce website, expanding the collection at independent golf pro shops across the country and reaching new demographics such as the collegiate market. Locally, VK Sport is sold at Belle Meade Country Club and Hillwood Country Club.

Launching VK Sport marked a career switch for Kopyar, whose resume includes corporate positions with U.S. Bank, Target, Dollar General and Gibson Guitar. She didn’t pick up golf as a hobby until she had a summer off work in between jobs at U.S. Bank and Target.

“My dad told me (golf is) a great up-and-coming place for women to do business, there is a lot of opportunity and it’s a lifetime sport," Kopyar said. "So I went out and bought clubs, took some lessons and I fell in love with golf."

In 2014, Kopyar started developing the VK Sport brand on weekends and nights. The following year, she decided to leave the corporate world behind to work full-time on the clothing line. The launch of VK Sport coincided with Nashville's rising reputation as a fashion hub for everything from custom dresses to high-end denim and handmade leather goods.

Her goal for VK Sport is to target fashion-forward women with her key demographic between the ages of 25 to 60 years old. According to the National Golf Foundation, 24 percent of the 24.1 million golfers in the U.S. were women in 2015. Millennials represented the largest group among the 2.2 million beginner golfers last year.

The VK Sport apparel, which is made from technical fabrics with anti-wick and sun-protective properties, includes colorful and printed dresses, skorts, pants, shorts, polos, tank tops and more. Features include anti-slip bands in the skirts and shorts, cutaway sleeves, nine-inch deep pockets, zipper details, mandarin collars, ruched fabric at the buttons and lace features.

Kopyar described it as a high-end brand with price points ranging from $90 for a skort to $110 for pants and $85 for polos.

“We’re a fashion brand," Kopyar said. "We take what’s happening on the runways in New York and Milan and take that and bring it into the functionality of golf wear and/or regular street wear."

VK Sport has been self-funded so far, but Kopyar plans to take on investors as she grows the business. She hopes to capture a piece of the multi-billion dollar athleisure market by positioning the brand as activewear for both golfers and non-golfers.

“I see us as a lifestyle brand," Kopyar said. "Not only are you functional in golf but you can wear it in your everyday lifestyle, whether you’re at the nineteenth hole having lunch with the girls or out picking up your kids at school or running to Target or a coffee meeting."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Chris Jun 2015
-

This is my spot, just outside these green coffee house doors,
my piece of sidewalk, my place in this world
A small square of concrete where I try to bring smiles
to those in a hurry, hustling past, chasing their lives

Opening the case, I bring out my constant companion
I love her feel, smooth and perfect, she fits so nicely in my hands
Her neck like soft butter against my calloused fingers
A black Takemine cutaway, my favorite guitar, my best friend

There was a time when I would make eye contact,
cast a smile and a thank you at those who would stop and listen
But times have changed, people aren’t as friendly, smiles aren’t
what they used to be and the frowns just bring me down

Now from beneath my hat all I see are legs and shoes, it amazes me
all the different shoes, what they say about a person. Shiny shoes,
maybe a quarter, nice high heels a dollar or two, sneakers,
worn and tattered, my best customers, a five may fall when they pass

It’s not much, but it is a living at least for me and it’s not really a job
I don’t have to be here, I want to…playing music for strangers, for me
It’s kind of like writing poetry, only you listen instead of reading
and the coins and bills finding my case…comments, but better

I start today the same as every other day, with our song,
the one we sang together in school, the song we related too…funny
She was my heart, the one that got away…so what, I never got over her
It’s my deal not yours…I press the strings, fingers preparing to play

She was the love of my life, we were meant to be, at least I thought so
but after school we went in different directions, it happens I guess,
that was so many years back…I lost track of her long ago,
but my mind never did and I suppose my heart didn’t either…I play

A few coins trickle in…shiny shoes, wingtips…feeling sorry money,
but that’s okay with me, it’s food or few beers eventually
Then a ten spot hits the felt, gorgeous high heels, those with a red sole
I know my smile is growing as I arrive at the chorus

“And you fly away today, and you fly away tomorrow”    
When I hear a melodic voice singing along with me, it is the high heels,
the harmony is perfect and beautiful and…sounds so **** familiar…
I lift my head up to see…it is her, after all of these years...it is her
I saw a program about a street performer...it inspired this.
on the Earth, some need a heaven and hell above,
which suits the powered up reigning status quo rulers,
promising that by being just and docile,
one will earn frequent flyer life miles
to a destination ticketed & named,
but not by actual visitation,
a return confirmation, never

some take your self-love as their own idea,
reselling it over and over again back to you
but know that when you sing your own song,
the discoverable truth is we all
get to go to sort of a sanctuary,
especially if you record-keep your flaws,
in order to constantly reinvent yourself
in order to

reach some kind of agreement with yourself

human gravity is hard enough to escape so travel light,
shed those skins over and over again,
each a modest  improvement sequentially,
leave your exited charred speech behind,
knockoff the blackened flaking edges, a discarded cutaway,
this way to transcend phony notion redemption requirements,
redemption
is a toxic emblem, a symbol unrequited and a sucker’s play

I am the spirit of another’s name, who, here to teach,
this being today’s lesson;
how to reach your unique
truth sanctuary,
where the stronghold of who you yet-to-be, can-be awaits,
the reinventing ones, successful, some call poets,
they do not confuse redemption requests
with sanctuary
only provisioned
by yourself,
for yourself
lmn

— The End —