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Tom Leveille Sep 2014
she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"
JL Aug 2012
He shakes the snow from his fur and tastes the air

A young boy leans against an oak
A rusted sword at his side


The wolf leaves the warmth of his den

(They listened to the old man around the fire
His words hang in the air...)

The wolf bares his yellow teeth

The boy would lie beneath the stars
Imagining the tales
Heracles wounding even the gods

The metallic lure of blood. Skades' perfume was heavy on the morning fog

He slept and drempt
He was in the vale again
Leaning against the old oak
His father's words were harsh-
Only a coward would run from such a glorious death


The hunger was, unbearable now
The wind pulled at his hair




In the cold early morning fog
The spear was heavy, but he was strong
The sword was rusted, but he had cunning



They were alone in the valley
Where the morning fog will never lift
JL May 2013
I can't remember if Jessica or .4 milligrams
Makes me happy- I would lick the wound
Between her legs or crush her on the spoon
Wash her Filter her **** her through cotton
And find a vein all blue and ******
Like the 1st time again

I drempt awake
I could taste/smell her
On the bed sheets
And the form serpentine constricting
Flow purple and black dying of thirst
Aching until the skin is broken
A little sweet blood drips out and runs
Down between the knuckles
Playing warm on nerve endings like poetry


She left some ugly scar tissue
But she would **** god
Off 4 pills- and leave him
Empty Formless
Their screams in my face
Seem like an echo of a whisper
If you come in this house again
We call the cops


A thief and a liar are brothers
And they do not change in time
I forgot to feel
Even as her legs
Constricted me
******' deeper

I drempt that my heart stopped
And for the first time in ten eons
I was...what's that word?
*Happy
Pauls second letter to the church at Corinth
Corinthians12: 7-10
There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.

For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.

 And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.
K Balachandran Jul 2013
1
Rain's blue-black cloak, tied with rainbow girdle,
visible over the green hills,across rice fields,
she waves and rushes forward.
From distance, the incessant chant
of South-West monsoon,
sounds like a mature witch practicing her craft.
      One would think,she is all evil,dark
       the overcast sky her sinister cloak,
But under my umbrella
a coy maiden, i desired from afar,
who walk with me step by matching step
with all the cunning tricks of love
trying to entice me with her soft body's tunes,
her tender cool fingers rubbing my cheeks,
her unmistakable lover's touch eager, transgressing
desirous of getting me in to her arms.
2.
She makes me mad
i throw away my umbrella
in the rambunctiousness of a teenager and run with her,
at once her naughty hands pinch and tickle me
then an intense embrace that makes me shiver
with the deep pleasure, I drempt in wakeful nights,
joy of life that rain tune and smell of damp earth evoke!
The green loud glee in me it creates!
In dreams, rain come to me
and tells me the secrets of night
that I long for my love and me alone.
3
Rain, the seductress who taught me
the secret passions of living and loving,
and the burning sensation, of love
that runs deep in the  core of one's being.
When I lay awake, in a monsoon night,
outside my window, she plays tango,
wind holding her by the waist, with fierce passion,
that keeps me awake til,
I get absorbed in a dream
that has passionate love as the under current.
                   )O(
To the boys who thought they were being funny but we're really just cruel
and the girls, who treated my hope like a punchline to a joke they never let me in on;
Last night I drempt I was lynched:
Your hands were the ones that strung me up
Your faces,
filled with the snarling lips of wolves-
Crowded beneath my swinging feet
Your tore me to pieces.
I drempt
You chased me through the woods
and along a beach
where the sun
was always just about to set
I sought safety from the presence of strangers
but you came at me anyway:
Hungry mouths of predators
you dragged me away ****** and screaming
bystanders just as silent as ever
even in my dreams
there are no bodies
that provide protection.
I have not felt this helpless in years.
I have not felt this scared in ages.
I have not thought of  you...
                       any of you...
   In so long....
Why?
Do you still have this power over me?
How?
Is the sight of you
in a crowded public space
where you probably won't even notice me
still enough
to twist my body inside out
To leave me trembling and shivering
in the middle of summer
I thought I was free of this?
But in my nightmares
it is still your laughing eyes
Your jackal lips
That fill the face
of everything that tries to consume me,
be it man or beast.

The fingers
that try to dissect me
Are yours
The bodies
that hold me down
Are all yours
Please
        Hasn't it been long enough?
All I wish for
Is peace
And to forget;
what your faces look like- all twisted with taunting
the specific sound of your hateful voices
the touch of your hands,
                        where they shouldn’t be,
                                         the things you say about it afterwards....  
Last night
         I drempt
that you ate me.
              With the teeth  of a hell-hound
                                      you  split me open
                                                      reduced me to mangled, shredded piece of meat
             but I could not die
you smiled at me
               with ****** lips
                                  over what used to be my body
                                                              and I could not even howl
                        because you had torn out my throat.

[Tell me now, that is was still all just as joke]
Graydon Archer Nov 2012
I've experienced the exuberance of youth.
Through endless summer days, of blissful childhood ignorance.
I have drempt the most glorious dreams. The ability to soar with the eagles was mine, most any night. I was to live, forever.
I have know the delirious intoxication, of boyish infatuation.
And to such a degree, I have tasted the bitterness of rejection.
I have lived amid nonconformists. I shared in their ideological beliefs. Old Guard be ******.
I have witnessed the gatherings of idealists, who's main purpose
was to spread their premise of the brotherhood of man.
I have seen them chained and gagged. Beaten for their beliefs. Shot down in their youth, by those who's superficial dogmas kept them from the truth.
I have been among the ranks of the tens of thousands, shouting my incensement's against a failing war. And I have been to the "wall" and wept for my fallen brothers.I have seen the rise of iconic performers. Some who would pay the ultimate price for their notoriety.
I have felt the power of their karma and reveled in their idioms'.
I have witnessed the miraculous wonder of birth. I've had the privilege to hold the embodiment of purity, God's ultimate creation, in the hollow of my arms.
I have walked among the Angels. And I have delved into the pit of my own iniquity's.
I have loved the un-loved, and scoffed at those who would be cherished.
I have lived as if, there were no tomorrow. I have learned there is just today.
I have lived to be a better man than I was. I live to be a better man than I am.
Buddy T Apr 2017
sometimes in my spare time
I
sing
made up songs

the lyrics never constant
pretty
tunes
in my head

but like fate should have it
they
never
stay for long

for once I'm done singing
they
fade
away like dreams
JL Mar 2016
Dye
I have drempt:
Lucidly, she dyes the edges clay-colored  
Eyeing eye she aligns her body with the North Star
She shivers without notice
        Ocher eyes alive
she speaks in new forms of divination
And the weather is in her palm
Trick of light    trick of eye
Her sigh awakens 9 Ravens
     without thought
            She is
    Caught in the spider web
         Spun
Autumnal ghost
Beneath Harvest moon
    swoons at the bark of the dire wolf
Without care
making eye contact
Running fingers through the silver fur
  Paying close attention to scars
Letting him drink
From lips of pink
The milk of first-kiss
And leads him home  
To a palace of bone
Humming tunes that only dogs know
Her head is light on his chest
She listens to his heart beat
Beating Eagles wing
In time
In rhyme
A tune
Of runes
Smooth Aquarius
Flowing through the toes
Of purple mountains
Spilling waterfalls and
Filling frigid
Black pools rimmed
By moss caked stone

Leaves scarlet, and hay colored
Float aimlessly on the surface of her

Peaked
Ears Stung and bit of wind
She listens whole body tensed
bow string
face    Sun stained
ethereal
Enamored
swimming in the aphotic
Lake of his soul
He plays the dulcimer of shadow
Next to fire
& the light of her blossom
exposing
Waterfall
flow
Through snow mountains
Piqued
His attention
When she dances languid
To
Forgetten tunes that only the owl knows
****
she dances star soaked
Scarlet tulips pressed
Fill every page of her mind
Preserved eternal
You can find her poetry here
http://hellopoetry.com/dye/
Michael DeVoe Aug 2009
I take pleasure in the simple things
And I know a lot of people say that
But I think a lot of people get carried away
With the idea of getting carried away
They watch movies for the special effects
Go to baseball games for the big names
And watch trains go by for the wrecks
But I take pleasure in the simple things
The other day I paced in the rain
It was summer so the warm water
Reminded me of growing up in Shanghai
Where the chemical rain would burn when it touched you
And that's a happy memory for me
I watch movies for the kisses
The Humphrey Bogart
Reach out and kiss the crap out of them kisses
The Ingrid Bergman sly, seductive kisses
The Audrey Hepburn innocent, eyes closed kisses
I go to baseball games to smell the air
Little league games, high school games,
Minor league games, professional games
It doesn't matter they all smell like dirt and leather
I like to walk by freshly mowed lawns
Because it reminds me of when I was younger
And played soccer every Saturday morning
On just cut grass
I love, love, love to watch little kids run in circles
For absolutely no reason at all
I take pleasure in the simple things
I think too often people
Try to measure the was of each day
Against the could be of every dream
Forgetting that we don't ask our dreams
To accomplish themselves between 9-5
Some people get caught up in
Trying to live their life
Like it was a scene from a dream
They drempt while they slept last night
And though sometimes life can seem like a movie
We are not producers or directors
Merely actors following our lines
Trying to feel out someone else's vision
So I find pleasure in the simple things
The parts no producer could control
The lines that aren't in the script
The prettiest rose on my bike ride home
Warm Rain
Dirt
Leather
Cut grass, little kids, and puppy dogs
Because if we limit the pleasure we find
To the greatest moments in our lives
We're never going to believe it's happening when it is
Always dreaming there could be more to our life then there is
And when we do finally believe
The only chance we'll have to smile
Will be at a memory
And we'll miss all the beauty and pleasure
The world and life
Has put in front of you and me
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
K Balachandran Jan 2014
With my hands around you, I slept,
and drempt we acquired wings,
flew up hovered above the clouds,
followed the white storkes that seek
far away lands that are still warm.
Sky was the world we always eyed
as we wanted to live closer to it
with the wonder remaining undiminished,
we noticed the white clouds turn pink
flew above the extended meadows of clouds,
saw they change colors as time
travels with sun, then moon appears,
making us feel we need to drink
the milk she graciously sheds all over the world.

Now, we went closer to the valley of night
and heard rounds of gun fire unawares,
unmistakable smell of blood followed,
war cries heard aloud, followed by the cry of wounded people.
you were frightened and lamented,
like a dove in distress,"Why did we fly?
could have contented with what we have,
look at the humans, they ****
and feel happy that they could ****
the other person, fantastic!
but why don't they see,
that they shoot themselves, not others.
I hate this though we inhabit a world beautiful.
but who gives his whole being to beauty?
and just love one another, see that we are not separate!"

I woke up with my hands around you,
and found there was distress in your face,
wasn't it yet another bad dream, I wonder,
It's past midnight, but the gunshot, I heard-
still resounds outside,
      I can't sleep any more...
Nadia DeLevea Feb 2014
Last night I drempt I saw you again.
It all seemed so real,
Never Did I doubt it was only a dream.

I saw your face clearly,
Clearer than I knew my memories could allow.
Your smile, your smell, the feel of your arms around me,
Never once did I doubt it was only a dream.

I stared in disbelief,
You grabbed me, you held me, I cried on your chest.
Never once did I doubt it was all only  a dream.

The thing about dreams is that time has no control of them.
We did all the things we used to do,
It was as if all the years we spent together we re-lived in a few hours.
Never Did I doubt it was only a dream.

I had let you go, I knew you were gone.
But now I miss you more than ever.
Even if It was only a dream.

This morning I went to see the Lily we'd planted,
It's the only piece of you I have left.

As much as I still love you,
As much as I will always miss you,
As much as I want to dream of you again.
I'm afraid to fall asleep again,
Dreaming of you hurts to much...
Dreams Hurt™  By Nadia DeLevea
JL Apr 2012
It was just as I had drempt it
Even down go the thirst and the red flashing light
It was perfect
Almost scripted
We are only actors acting for no one
The fear of heights and closed spaces
Lying drunk on  the kitchen floor
Counting tiles until
The record ends
With no one to turn it over
The twisted beginning and the mysterious never ending
the two hearts collide
Souls will forever be mending.
and the world they drempt of denied
**************
They sliced and stabbed at each others hearts
Until they both broke free
leaving lingering pieces of art
around the doors of magnificent masterpiece
**************
At different times, they would reminisce
then on to the fortress they would go
to find the only one they miss
to never once show.
*******************
­But time heals all wounds of the broken.
Left the longed for past, now never to be awakened.
Out  of  a  window across.  , across. Open  seas. and mountains
Gods great fountains  and streams of life .
To  drink from living waters  drawn from   a  living. Spring  of eternal. Salvation .
To   feast from the living bread , and drink the cup  of new wine .
Little bird don't. be afraid ,
the thoughts of your mind that  inprisoned you have long since passed .
Sing , Sing  like a  free bird Glory songs  to your
maker,
redeemer ,
King .
For. Your sins  once. Scarlet. Like blood  seeping from an open wound
, now like  crisp white fallen snow at dawn .
Untouched by foul beast  trodden down by man , or sodden by heavens tears .
So hate what is evil , cling to the good
and never say die to these things .
Remember them , bind them with a knot to your heart .
So when the bird man comes a calling  with morsols of worldly pleasure ,
remember your cage the times you cried freedom .
Drempt. Of blue sky's.
Fly high little bird your free
Fly high like a free bird yeah !
Book of Galations chapter five verse one X
Sierra Martin Feb 2013
We were talking about me getting a car.
A shiny new piece of metal on wheels
Or a clunk
clunk
clunk
clunker that carries my weight
and take me far
far
far
far
away.

But then life got in the way.
And there was a knock
knock
knock
knock
on the door.
And it was answered.
and words were said.

and I fell to pieces
by the weight
of
those
words.
I used to think that things got better before they got worse.
That dreams were drempt and it took so
so
so
so
long to make it to the bottom
of all bottoms.

That it was a gradual fall that took time,
so many
ticks
of a
clock.

And
beats
of a
heart.

But I seem to just now be learning
how impossible
it is
to stay afloat
in the raging rivers
that constantly beat me down,
called life.
This poem is me trying out a new writing style, inspired by my favorite author Tehereh Mafi.
Sorrow Jun 2013
There once
was
       a
          boy
born of the desert.

And from the light as eyes opened
to
the
last breath
                  In
       memory,
There was nothing
                                                         ­                   nothing
                                      ­                         but sand.

Yet
     Somehow
                                 he hoped.
in what had never been  drempt of before.
and,
               Somehow
he still saw future.
                              
                                 Imagine.
                                    Skies.
             ­                       With a horizon...
Imagine
and believe.
For his heart had never existed before.


And he never stopped running.
This boy.
JL Jun 2016
I drempt that I flew
And then I knew I'd die young
Above emerald seas I did soar
Salt

I dream and I slither
Among razor obsidian
And on the ash I feast
I am alone
Watching sun slip
Scarlet fury splitting
Old & cyclic
JL Feb 2012
I once held the sea
But I loved her so
I let her go
Every drop of her I released
All the hidden treasures
Lost in her belly

I once held all the birds
Because they were my friends
Singing stories to me
About long forgotten lands
But the only good bird
Is one not captured
So their cages I opened
They whistled their thanks

I once held the sun
For she only could keep me warm
But the moon was jealous
So I let her run

I once loved you
More than I ever loved myself
I would die for you
I lived for you
Everything your name
But when the winter bit your heart
You forgot my name
So I gave you all I had
My heart
My soul
My song
And you walked down Virginia Street
Hand in hand with him

Last night I drempt of longing
The taste upon my tongue
The voice of birds came softly back
The warmth of yellow sun
The sea came rushing back to me
Bathing me in love
But I waited and I waited
For I needed you the most
But you would never come back to me
The owner of my heart
Syd Jul 2014
I've got this theory
that at night my chest fills
with memories of you
and my lungs turn to steel
breathing is nearly as impossible
as it was to let you go
and I swear its like I'm inhaling your smile and exhaling smoke
that sits amongst the midnight atmosphere
in silent hopes
that this isn't real
clinging to the dark earth like dense
black fabric that can't help but to choke
on your name
there are some things that even time
can't manage to heal
and I think it was the first night
I overdosed on sleeping pills
that I drempt of you holding my hand
and pumping my veins full of your laughter
because only I knew that it was a high
no one but you and I
would ever fully understand
I woke up empty handed and stranded
in a foreign land where calendar days weren't named after the way
your voice cracked when we met
and hurricanes came from the coast
but I think they spilled out from under your tongue when you woke up at one a.m fighting my memories back down your throat and swearing to yourself that you didn't love me anymore
and I don't exactly know how to end this without washing up on the shore
of nostalgia and broken promises
being washed away by the relentless tide that came rushing out of your mouth
and sliding between your eyes
sometimes I can't tell if im choking on fire or water
but I'm drowning in the sea of losing you and burning on the thought
of you missing me
too
kt Dec 2014
I had a dream
just between me.
Me on my own
and but not alone.

I found my pace
As I drempt of this place
A fine replace
That had such a grace.

Beside a tree
there was me.
Where it was free
just to be me.

With my cloak at hand
by the old oak on land
l had a joke
for all the folks

With a tear in my eye
not much of a sti
l looked at the sky
to say goodbye

I seen a cloud
It looked like a foul
he was pretty loud
just sitting all proud

His feathers jesting
but not a pesting
Got you guessing
he was just a resting

I then looked over
over my shoulder
to see what was over
just over the boulder.

Over the boulder there was a shoulder
some big man
with quite a big tan

He said, "come here!"
from his beard
With a big tear
He said...

"What are you doing here my dear?"

I said to him...

"sitting with you!
you big galout!
your just my size!
and not too wise!"

I found my friend
behind the bend
What a day
and what a friend.
kt
Terry Howe Jun 2017
To live the life that we want is God's way of being cruel for we must earn that way of life. It is said that to love the one we care for the most we must be able to make sacrifices. We are suppose to be created in his image but we alter it constantly. In order to love we must as well love ourselves first. How can we love someone who is taken? How can you love yourself in the first place? How can we accept the fact that they won't love you or say "sorry but you're not my type." Or even "I'm not gay." Humanity is constantly being the same way that we've been for hundreds of years. We try to venture out from the norm but it keeps trying to pull us back in. Society tries to change but it pulled back by those that want it to stay the way it is. We can't learn to love ourselves so we try and have others do it for us. We rely of the concept that there is your soulmate somewhere on this little blue planet in this vast galaxy. We say that they were hmm orn in the wrong time period and that they're not alive anymore or that they haven't been born yet. What if you're destin to be by your own side forever in time until you find you're soulmate in the next life. But what if you're alone yet again with no one to love you for who you are? You find that you're in a depressive state that you can't seem to get out of. You've told yourself that you've loved before and you'll find love again. But you then realize how fast that love was taken away from you. How the person that you care about loves someone else. You don't care about *** at all. You just want to come up behind that person, wrap your arms around them and relax you body while saying that you love them and you just want to be held by them. You want your hair played with and you want the occasional kiss or two on the lips. Soft and warm. You smile at this thought over and over until you realize that it'll never happen or come true. You're eyes swell up and you can feel and see the tears forming. Falling to your knees you cry your eyes out and scream at the top of your lungs when all of a sudden you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look around and find someone there who's having the same problems as you are. He/she stands you up and embrasses you in a warm and loving hug. You calm down and lay your head on that person's shoulders then all of a sudden you find yourself in darkness. You hear the sound of a fan going and also blowing on you. You look around and find that you are in your bedroom. You failed to realize that last moment was only a dream. A dream that you've drempt before but still affected by it. You silently cry as you stand from your bed and turn on the lights. You're not ready for the new day that's come to play but you must because you have to live your life over and over and them the days are merging together and you find yourself stuck in an infanent loop. The same day and thing over and over again. You can't do anything though because it's the norm that you're doing. You've failed to venture out from it and now you're doomed to repeat it forever and always no matter what you do because now you are like the others. Because you've failed to venture so now you must survive the best you can do before you die.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2015
'SO....THE DAYS HAVE WORN AWAY...HAVE THEY?"

Mrs. Havisham
ran from her dream

and into the arms
of her husband.

She was trembling
like a dying bird

held in the hand
tears falling on it.

"Dearest...dearest!"

Mr. Havisham tried to
cajoled her back to

some kind of
reality.

"Oh, Mr. Havisham sir..!"
she palpitated

"I drempt I was on fire
and my world

was all cobwebs and dust
cobwebs and dust!"

"And, that...I was never
married and that I was

but a character in a book
by that Mr. Dickens!"

"Shhhhh...shhhhhh!" her husband
shushed her

and she slept in his embrace
as real as real.

A ray of sunshine
entered their room

bowing before them

announcing in a loud morning voice

"Your world....
....awaits you!"
I like fictional characters as they can be even further fictionalised! One can then give them other various possible possibilities and invent other futures...other lives for them and see how they unfurl themselves into whoever you make them be on just a passing whim. I've just wrote another called ROMEO &...MARY.
Stanley Wilkin Dec 2017
Gloria was a grump,
delightful Felicity a frump,
Sara a bit of a chore
Liz liked gore,
Azi cried alot
Jill cared not a jot
for anyone, I learned
Cecila's stomach churned,
Roberto enjoyed her food
In public, Edie was rude,
Faizi liked to laugh
Katie liked to ****,
Esmeralda loved to ski
until she broke her knee,
Toni drempt of fame
but ended on the game,
Jen constantly made love
worn out, she resides above,
Queenie liked her drink
spent her days throwing up in a sink,
Julie adored her kids,
both are on the skids,
Siham adored money
was always miserable, never funny,
Frankie cared for wealth
spent a fortune on her health,
Jasmine was dour
more nettle than flower,
Ruby liked to cook,
Cynthia preferred a book,
Fill wanted to marry,
she eventually met Barry,
Aysha had great beauty
and was shrewdly dotty,
Anna was a shrew
which everyone but me knew,
Kath used excessive perfume-
smoking me out of my bedroom,
Pauline constantly showered
while Jackie always glowered
at strangers in the street-
where Carol and I met
on New Years Eve 2011
and for a month I was in heaven,
until my short affair
with nimble Clair,
Toni ate sparingly
lean meat and leaner celery,
Jo ate five times a day,
No one got in her way
of food, while Chris ate
tons of icecream, getting stuck in a gate
one day when off to work,
I took the opportunity, like a ****,
to leave waving goodbye
from my car. Why?
Essie was beside me
and again I needed to be free,
which a month later so did she!
Mitch bought me another
borrowing it off her brother,
who much bigger than me,
once more I was impelled to flee.
Suzanne in France
lead me a dance,
having other men every day
when I was away,
while Adalene
worked on my brain
and Genevieve broke my heart,
briefly, when apart
holidaying in the Alps with Jean
until her curiosity done
she came back and apologised,
and thereafter we thrived,
and would still be together
had not Heather
seduced me one day
when Genevieve was looking the other way
and did not see
Heather kissing me
by the pool
in Dakar, Senegal,
or making love
in rainy Vaduz,
holding hands in Bern
near a milk churn
having a bit of a lover's palava
in Bratislava.
When she found me with Ruth in Moscow
Genevieve told me sharpely to go,
I went. Ruth went off with Jean
and I took the first plane home,
meeting Jess in Heathrow
we took a taxi to Wivenhoe,
living there a year,
where fattened up with calorific beer
dressed now in grandad fashion
I started making a sullen impression
on even those who loved me,
but still, good reader, I needed to be free
so here I am now with Daphne
the final woman for me.

I met Adele in my son's first school
so, reader, I guess I'm just an unstructured fool,
for along came Celeste, Diane and Frick
making me still a colossal p......k.
Maximus Tamo Apr 2016
Stranded alone on an island,
A man floated among his dreams,
Tried to ignore his coming death,
Tried to silence the inner screams,

His world was shattered,
One fateful day,
When his plane fell down,
Into the bay,

He left his daughters,
And his wife,
Across the sea,
He left his life,

He drempt of home,
And many a night,
Against odds and nature,
He would fight,

For he was strong,
And determined was he,
For again with his family,
He would be,

He fought for months,
And on and on,
But no one would come,
To set eyes upon,

This lonely soul,
And tormented he,
Was tempted to himself,
From suffering free,

As he held the knife,
And scratched his skin,
He could hear the calling,
From deep within,

He knew that if he died,
There was no chance to see,
His daughters again,
Or with his wife to be,

So he pressed on,
And fought harder,
But it seemed from salvation,
He only got farther,

His heart and soul,
Were both shattered,
He could move on no more,
His will was tattered,

Then the chopper,
Flew into his cove,
And into the water,
His salvation dove,

As they moved onto land,
And toward his bed,
They found him lying,
Bitter, cold, and Dead,

Somewhere along,
Beings, fates, or gods,
Are harsh and cruel,
Ne'er sparing the rod

Life is not easy,
And never is fair,
But we must push through,
Even when no hope is there,

If we give up,
And bow our head,
Then we are crawling,
Into deaths bed,

The least we can do,
If fight on and long,
Till every ounce,
Of strength is gone,
R May 2013
I've drempt of the moment that
You realize the words I write
Actually mean something.
But, in reality
They never really will.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2021
SO....THE DAYS HAVE WORN AWAY...HAVE THEY?"

Mrs. Havisham
ran from her dream

and into the arms
of her husband.

She was trembling
like a dying bird

held in the hand
tears falling on it.

"Dearest...dearest!"

Mr. Havisham tried to
cajoled her back to

some kind of
reality.

"Oh, Mr. Havisham sir..!"
she palpitated

"I drempt I was on fire
and my world

was all cobwebs and dust
cobwebs and dust!"

"And, that...I was never
married and that I was

but a character in a book
by that Mr. Dickens!"

"Shhhhh...shhhhhh!" her husband
shushed her

and she slept in his embrace
as real as real.

A ray of sunshine
entered their room

bowing before them

announcing in a loud morning voice

"Your world....
....awaits you!"
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
'SO....THE DAYS HAVE WORN AWAY...HAVE THEY?"

Mrs. Havisham
ran from her dream

and into the arms
of her husband.

She was trembling
like a dying bird

held in the hand
tears falling on it.

"Dearest...dearest!"

Mr. Havisham tried to
cajoled her back to

some kind of
reality.

"Oh, Mr. Havisham sir..!"
she palpitated

"I drempt I was on fire
and my world

was all cobwebs and dust
cobwebs and dust!"

"And, that...I was never
married and that I was

but a character in a book
by that Mr. Dickens!"

"Shhhhh...shhhhhh!" her husband
shushed her

and she slept in his embrace
as real as real.

A ray of sunshine
entered their room

bowing before them

announcing in a loud morning voice

"Your world....
....awaits you!"
John B Dec 2015
TBO
What's this?

I haven't seen you in about two years.

What a trip.

Drempt about you again I fear.

Here I sit.

Sides aching from a night of thrusts and laughter.

All alone just shakeing not sure quite what I'm after.
All I know is your the only one who has it. I've never met another, hope that I never do, I just want you, oh well, its not so bad, just an open wound in my side pressed raw by a nation of temptations, a generation of complacents and the memory of you, memory ever freshened by the winds of social media, a soul mate holds my sides and crys as I miss you so deeply I cannot feel her touch, you mortally wounded me, Venus, my unrequiteable loyalty, dashed jaged on rocks, like a ship in fog so close all not to reach the shore, are you happy? Is it what you expected? Do you have regrets like me? Do you ever lay in bed like this and wonder how it may have otherwise gone? Do you ever think about showing up at my door like you have before for a hug, for a smoke and or a shoulder to cry on? I wish I had the strength to let your tears play on my heart without it softening for you, do I still give the best hugs in the world? Can you still feel safe in my arms? Is that really all I wanted.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2017
'SO....THE DAYS HAVE WORN AWAY...HAVE THEY?"

Mrs. Havisham
ran from her dream

and into the arms
of her husband.

She was trembling
like a dying bird

held in the hand
tears falling on it.

"Dearest...dearest!"

Mr. Havisham tried to
cajoled her back to

some kind of
reality.

"Oh, Mr. Havisham sir..!"
she palpitated

"I drempt I was on fire
and my world

was all cobwebs and dust
cobwebs and dust!"

"And, that...I was never
married and that I was

but a character in a book
by that Mr. Dickens!"

"Shhhhh...shhhhhh!" her husband
shushed her

and she slept in his embrace
as real as real.

A ray of sunshine
entered their room

bowing before them

announcing in a loud morning voice

"Your world....
....awaits you!"
Jim Mar 2019
Fantasy is dragons, it's magic and mystery
Heroes in armor, evil and infamy
It captures your intrigue and panders to dreamers
tales of black sheep, fools, misfits and schemers

Where did it come from? We wrote it all down
Thought of some fiction like King Arthur's crown
Mermaids and ogres set on some quest
A kidnapped princess, a witch in the west

It's much more fun than the real world around us
That's missing that wonder and absent of fairy dust
Though there is a place in our world where fantasy's seen
A conjuring of tall tales.. what we call dreams

Imagination's truly at the root of it all
Like how a pumpkin could carriage a maid to a ball
Or rainbows can lead to a cauldron of gold
And a man can favor by selling his soul

There's all sorts of crazy drempt up nonsense
You,ve heard of small elves who make Christmas presents
How absurd is that, who could have thought it up
And the nothing compared to the Tri-wizards cup

Give it a try for yourself some time
Think of a story or something sublime
A wicked beast or a mystic spirit
And whatever you end up with.. I want to hear it.
Madeline Clow May 2023
I drempt of all the wrong things.
I entertained all of the wrong fantasies.
I prioritized trivialities.

I prayed for the wrong things.
I asked all of the wrong questions.
I made bad choices.

I trusted the wrong people.
I believed in the wrong people.
I sold my soul.

I supported the wrong causes.
I worshiped the wrong gods.
I hurt people.

I threw away my pride.
I bit my tongue.
I bowed.

I thought that I was free.
I thought that I was working for myself.
But that couldn't have been father from the truth.
Richard Hansen Jun 2019
Whether tiz fare t’middling
or
Excruciatingly Wonderful
simply
beyond rarely drempt dreams
of
what most think possible...

...uhem
L'Life and Poetry
are
Judged Subjectively
so when
a poet of
upcoming note and stick.to.it.tivity
takes his or her work seriously
it being
not
foolhardy
due to
some sort of mental malady
or maybe
quite conversely
another fellow
silly and frivolous
just may be crazy
but
didn't know or
particularly care
yet  
penned a poem plucked from
ethereal air
discovering his creation
making slight on-the-fly alterations  
in front of an audience
say
just on a lark or
where a wild feather was or  
Perhaps he's up there on a dare
I don't know
it happens though
anyway
something of great value was found
within themselves
they didn't know was there
so
However these things happen
steadily over time
or thunderstruck all at once
identity is fundamentally
amended to where
what was once unattainable  
is now unimportant since  
a page was turned
to greater awareness
so now
the poet's words
are
more worthy and valid
for
what was once hidden
is now revealed
only then can
all elements necessary be assembled
from this omnipotent coagulation
to sublime manifestation
A Focus and Fervor of Defined Desires
Is the Poet Stung
with
Purpose and Power
then
applying design to
words verse and rhyme
til when
Time itself
becomes no more
than
a
fraction of an instant
in
Infinity
of Truth and Beauty
so full and rich
Truer and more Beautiful
it lasts forever in just a
fleeting glimpse
continuing to
emptiness
with what?  
nothing?
nothing to grip!
****!!!
you're slipping inexorably into
the vilest of
vile pits
the stench of ignorance
grips your breath
fear and doubt
floating in chunks and clouds
smack into you hard
and harder
the faster you fall
and all is
no more
than
terror and gloom  
that massive splat coming at'cha
will
be your doom
it's wildly impending
sooner than soon
You're not sleeping
All is lost
because
there's
No way out that's not up
from this
the lowest hole you know about
Oh!
You just remembered  
You've been here
it's familiar
remote
dark and far away
the
Most Vile and Disgusting place ever!
And we're here
Caught involuntarily
in the wake of a wave of a
train of thought
to this self-made imposition
of
Boredom
Hopelessness Torture and Rot
to be avoided
Of Course but
here we are
with dispassion
looking at it wondering at
all
the picks and shovels laying around
instantly knowing
escaping permanently was gonna be
certain the second mighty ****** downward
the blade of the shovel
hit something metallic
it was

!! <><><><>!! A Treasure Chest !!<><><><> !!

filled with
The Greatest Treasure in Life Ever
including
a super lightweight, high-tech, full-body
environmentally protective flight suit and
helmet seamlessly
fitted into a Rocket Pack featuring
six individual super way hightech 'n powerful
rockets mounted
on their own 6-servo-motor
articulating navigational vector control arm assembly
for aerial cat-like maneuverability
combined with
Out of This World Acceleration        
Vertical and Horizontal
All Instantly with Grand Facility
at my fingertipped command
through incredibly way advanced
integration and supercomputerized by  
Super Intuitive Control Interface Devices
plus
an elegant locking leather satchel
containing
lots of money and
some other
vital
bank information and passport
and
I wasn't standing
in a deep hole anymore
with fears and doubts
swirling in chunks and clouds above me
clogging
the pathway to anywhere
and everybody in the audience
was much wiser
having traveled
on words poetically
to
the deepest and darkest
most forbidden
most hidden
One of those
just-so-many-sensible-reasons-to-avoid places
only to find
Life's Greatest Treasure was buried there
oh my
and
I couldn't get it published
no matter how many lives changed
so I started thinking
ya know
everybody in the audience is
wiser and better but
I'm the only one with
this
really cool rocket suit
and leather satchel full of money
so
of and relating to
the poet's
Our Own Little World

...uhemm
N'No One Loves
A Poet’s Poem
more than
The Poet who wrote it probably
and
The Poet who wrote it knows it
and
They don’t get **** hurt
when
Publishers **** up
because
It happens
All
The Time

— The End —