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Joseph Miller Jul 2017
I see you struggling
at the Gate
with the roar of lions
behind you
You can barely hear
the Lord calling your name

I see the beasts
tearing at your flesh
as you stumble and fall
Down on your knees
I hear you beg and plead
Where is the strength
to be free!

I see a hint of knowing
in your eyes
a trace of believing
in your heart
I see you have the will
to stand and walk

In a new life
I see your reward
shining bright like a star
running through your soul
I see you believe
believe!
believe!
Terry O'Leary Feb 2014
THE MEETING

Alone one night neath lantern light, I trudged a weary mile.
Forlorn, I went with shoulders bent (the storms around me howled)
until I met a Silhouette behind a sultry smile –
She gazed with eyes that mesmerize (Her body caped and cowled)
and stayed my way with question fey, ‘Why don’t you while awhile?’

Though timorous (with slow address and gestures pantomimed)
Her voice was gracing echoes chasing waves in evening’s tide.
The churchyard groaned, an ***** moaned, the bells of midnight chimed
while wanton winds awoke and dinned, and mistrals multiplied.
The Persian moon, like stray balloon, arose and blithely climbed.

The Silhouette (a pale brunette) arched eyebrows meant to please,
and down the lanes, on windowpanes, the shadows danced and sighed.
A meadowlark within the dark, somewhere behind the breeze,
ennobled Her with wisps of myrrh while deigning to confide
to nightingales veiled whispered tales of human vanities.

She doffed her cloak before She spoke with sighs of sorrow sung
(like mandolins, as night begins, when mourning day’s demise)
and spun Her tale of grim travail and tears She'd shed when young.
As jagged volts of thunderbolts lit up the dismal skies,
a velvet fog embraced a bog in coils of curling tongues.

Through summer vales and winter gales Her secret thoughts were voiced.
Midst storms so cruel (neath lightning’s jewel that glistered on the ridge)
She reminisced, She touched... we kissed... Her lips were wet and moist...
A lighthouse dimmed, while moonbeams skimmed across a distant bridge
to avenues where residues of shallow shades rejoiced.

                        HER TRAGIC TALE

“Midst sweet perfume of youthful bloom, the lonely spirit braves
and often cries and sometimes dies in quest of her amour.”

While starry-eyed, a ship I spied, a’ sail upon the waves –
the galleon docked, the gannets flocked, the Captain swept ashore
where, debonair with gypsy flair, he led his salty knaves.

In passing by, he caught my eye - I tried to hide a blush,
but ambiance of innocence left fervour’s flames revealed.
His gaze (defined by eyes that shined) beheld my cheek a’ flush.
I bowed my head while caution fled, I felt my fate was sealed
- a bird in spring with fledgling wing - he’d snared a  falling thrush.

He said ‘Hello’ - I answered ‘No’ and yet before he’d gone
said I, ‘I’ll wait at Heaven’s Gate not far beyond the Pale’.
At dusk he came neath moon aflame, and left before the dawn
just humming tunes between the dunes that lined the sandy trail
beside a pond where morning yawned, where swam an ebon swan.

We met again, and once again, and once again, again
entangled in a love called sin, in whirls of make-believe.
While in my arms, with voice that charms, said he ‘I must explain -
the tide awaits in distant straits and I must take my leave’.
Then tempests stormed as passions swarmed through ardor’s hurricane.

‘Forsake your home and we may roam’ he smiled as if to tease
and still naive, said I ‘I’ll leave, in silver buckled shoes’.
He took the helm in search of realms, and quickly quit the quays -
with tearful eyes, I bade goodbyes to fare-thee-well adieus
and sailed above a wave of love across the seven seas.

We swept one morn around Cape Thorne while bound for Bullion Bay.
With naught to reck, I strolled on deck, a baby at my breast,
while flurries blew and seagulls flew within the ocean’s spray.
Our ship soon moored, we went ashore and off to Fortune’s Quest -
with gold doubloons which shone like moons, he gambled through the day.

‘The deuce is wild’ he thinly smiled; another card was drawn -
he’d staked and raised with eyes half glazed, was dealt a dismal three.
With betting tight throughout the night, the final ace long gone,
meant all was lost, at what a cost; alas, the prize was me.
To my dismay he slunk away and left me doomed at dawn.

A buccaneer with ring in ear sneered ‘now, my dear, you’re mine’.
He held my wrists to thwart my fists and then... my honor stained.
On sullied swash, the sky awash with bitter tears of brine,
I broke his clutch with nothing much of me that still remained:
a residue when he was through, left clinging to a vine.

In morning dew, the good folk knew, and spurned me in my plight.
The preacher man pronounced a ban and wouldn’t condescend,
ignored my pleas on bended knees and prayers by candlelight.
While cast aside, my baby died... my world was at an end.
Until this day, I’ve made my way beneath the shades of night.


                        AT HEAVEN’S GATES

To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.

To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.

The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.

Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.

A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.

Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
Stephen E Yocum Jan 2018
Once I was young and strong,
Consumed with compelling
desires of Horizon Lust,
traveling forth long and far.

Time and age has intervened,
now I stand alone and wait
high above on the city gate,
Silent sentry to all of those young
lives that venture forth to explore
horizons of their own, and those
weather beat ones like me
returning to rest and remain.

Accepting as I must, that I shall
never again roam too far afield  
from my place upon the gate,
Content with a life well lived,
to languish now upon this place.

Horizon Lust is for the young.
Oh, if only we possessed our
acquired wisdom of age
back in our youth.

Now a heart and mind
full of memories along
with a tranquil place by
the home fire hearth is enough.
Though I would not be
who I am, with out pushing
out to discover what's there..
Carmen Jane Nov 10
You've found my gate
You've chased the light
You've arrived in my sight
I will call it fate

What made you come, in a  hurry
I don't quite know
I think you have to go!
I dismiss this story

You don't see your mistake
Our hands might never touch
You look down, at your watch
You leave, with a bit of heartache
An attempted reverse poem
Josh Nov 2017


Absorbing dust and Golden heat,
living more openly than I do,
he shimmies to Billie Holiday

The year is not 1957, though
he lives in a San Francisco fog
longing to play the piano

The time in not 11:57pm, though
he orders a ***** martini & swims
in the fishbowl bay

Escaping to Telegraph Hill
to drink moonlight jazz & vermouth
he pretends to live

Way back when

*
I haven't wrote a poem in 2 years!
The blue dew is raining in
roaring fury!

It's a love cascading violently
from ****** blue mountain,
inviting grit from ocean of
courage, to offload tons of
bashfulness overload.

I reach a dime with hazel gaze
to a blue-eyed goddess in the
love garden, popping ogle
champagne in blind lust to
******* world.

I grin!
I grin in summary epic!

The amorous picnic turn and caress
me in mercurial adjectives, embalm
me in emotional stiffness,  aloof
from the real, unfrozen me into
insatiable insanity.

Not long, the craze evaporated
into eternity!
Mary Gay Kearns Apr 2018
The rows of backgarden fences looked much the same
Crumbling and split wooden planks, large tree roots
Dividing up the length and making mysterious entrances
Where rather dilapidated gates, latched firmly,
So animals could not stray,
Allowed for the start
Of magic.
Out of all these fences one belonged to my grandparents and
Through which our travels to Narnia began.



Love Mary x
CK Baker Oct 2017
dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips
fall to the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull at the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
blood rush churns
in a chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball park empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from timber tops
3 wick candles
set the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake
CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Jen Mar 25
Your presence
Reached in and
Broke the surface
Just enough
To find its way in,
Back to the depths
I’m telling you, life is short.

I’m telling you…
It is.

Vividly glimpsed
Your face while asleep.
Your eyes stared down at me
Piercing my soul and
Said, “Meet you at the East Gate,”
That’s all I know.
We would always see the numbers, “222.”
They signaled through the airwaves,
Subconsciously,
Visited us often,
We had no fear.

I looked into your eyes,
I didn’t want to leave
This place behind
Closed Eyes.

When I silently asked you
What to do, you looked the other way.
Then, I opened my eyes and
It was morning,
Light shined in,
Peaceful and quiet.

You were so real,
I knew your face,
You told me you knew
My fate.

It was time to wake,
From where your unending
Glow extended,
Time to trust
The unknown.

See you at the East Gate my long lost friend.
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
THE GATE SWINGS OPEN
( for Mary Frances )

We hang from
(albeit upside down)

now interlaced between
now balanced upon

the five-bar-gate
the river beyond calling our names.

This is the threshold
between lane and field.

We live only
in the moment

and so
forever.

Your dress falling
over your face

stifling giggles
gales of laughter

shaking us from our perch
like windfall apples.

An "Ouch!" and an "Ow!" later
and we are back upon

where we had
fallen from.

A Constable I could imagine
would have painted us

thus
in passing.

Our five-bar-gate
as much a part of us.

Even in this
over-grown now

I still smart
from the sting of its nettles

still taste the tang
of its baby strawberries

at its gnarled
wooden feet.

The gate open
into a world that is

...gone.

Captured in my imagination
by a Constable blur of paint

showing two blurs
that could be considered

us
children at play.

It hangs in my mind
in the gallery of memory.

The light slowly dying
only the laughter remains.

The thrush's song
threaded through the morning.
Survived until I died
Wings so I can fly
Standing at the pearly gate
Yelling, “let me in, I tried!”

Life was all consuming
Difficult to breathe
I had all that I wanted
I have all that I need

I didn’t go without
I wasn’t at all deprived
I had all of my loved ones
Always by my side

I never reached my peek
I didn’t have much drive
In a constant state of mind
Wondering, “why am I alive?”

I never found my calling
No reason I could find
A constant disappointment
Without a manual or guide

I was lost in my surroundings
When I spoke, I lied
Standing at the pearly gate
Yelling, “let me in, I tried!”

Angels with a checklist
The story of my life
Let’s skip all of the inquiries
Please let me inside

A standard to live up to
Life and death they coincide
Rules meant to be broken
It’s for you to decide

Mistakes are never overlooked
Please keep an open mind
If you let me through the gate
I promise to abide

At last the gate has opened
I take it all in stride
I’m right here where I belong
Even God knows that I tried
Strung Nov 4
She left the gate agar
And the sun crept in to steal my time,
Adding the ever-careful wrinkles round my eyes.
Dead strawberries withered with care
And Rainy, ****** skies weighed down  with weeks of meager, longing stares.

Is there more I can hold in the folds of my fingers?
Drip through the cracks, I fumble.
I wish I could see my darkening eyes...
And hear the seeds of my labor
crumble
Are there ever enough days? Enough time? I’ll never do it all...
{i remember}

She comes to presence
in a great wave of grief
that has no bottom.

{water cannot swim}

Feeling the unbearable
weight of womanhood
tearing me open,
revealing my own sorrows.

{a channel of life}*

To be a gate of love and blood,
the flesh of desire,
bearer of all burdens,

was so traumatic I was reborn
in the body of a man.
Jeremy Lauzon Jun 12
Helpless
The enchanted announces my sentence
Time carries pain
No more day

It's only a matter of time
Before my fear is lost
It never left me behind
Waiting in the shadows of my Ghost

The only good was to honor
Waiting for the call of father
Watching the wind rise
I promised to always hide
plain written words
bloom within the readers mind
gate into their souls
words
read, thought and felt
a thousandfold
The steps to the museum are many ,
Won’t you help me up the stairs ?
There’s a program with every item ,
every ***** of me .
Up the steps through the open door ,
how many rooms are here ?

Now a chair stands all alone with no pictures on the wall ,
In the middle of a room ,
my heart lies behind that glass ,
a Spector ,
a ghost behind a wall .

Won’t you see how  this blood runs from traitors gate ,
with
bread that’s long gone stale,
for judgement falls and my axe draws nigh ,
from deaths daughter must I fly ,
her lips are near ,
her crimson touch
not that I should dwell ,
Never a traitor ,



nor a Herotic
not i ,
Should ever be ?

If my head said yes and my heart said no then is there a life for me ?
What foolish thoughts my mind portraid
that were   my very own ,
a complex web unbeknown could that stranger now be ?

The words are so beautiful and their truth no heart can see ,
and yet my heart with holy spirits and angels with keys surrounded me .
How my dreams go back to that same old place  how sweet the’re
sorrows tell ,
of fields of bluebells and butterflies,
and all will be well .

I walk into the sun ,
then the sun hides behind a cloud and my world goes dim ,
no Light my heart has fled to a thousand differant things .

Here I sit ,
My heart on display
a traitor a heretic ? ask my heart not me .
Kylie Cannon Apr 19
I've swallowed the uncertainty of all impending doom
I've left the doors wide open to this dark and hallowed room
I feel I'm slowly dying as my body fails me everyday
Anxiety and pain, I'm tired, but it's mostly you in my way
I can not cast blame onto a soul suffering as equal
But I need a way to break through the places that died before the sequel
Literal anesthesia is becoming a part of me
It makes me fear I'll never again feel the center of my heart beat
I have no energy left to make time and room for any hate
Just promise before I pass that you'll open up that gate
Panda May Dec 2018
Every day I walk I wait
Listening to people open the gate
The gate of stars the gate I see
Looks very heavenly
The way it spins the way it moves
Looking at peoples shoes
The day I walk in the gate
I will sit and wait
Wait for people to walk through
I shall get some fancy shoe
When I do yes I say
The gate shall be opened to may
hsyclara Sep 29
every other month,
i fly.
when my mind fills with worries and unease,
my lungs expand with fear not air,
my heart speeds,
and with a single backpack
i take a bus to the airport.
long ride listening to my comfort songs
is just a beginning to my little getaway.
(i already feel calm writing about this moment)

quick 30 mins wait at the gate, then
i fly.
my reality you can wait for me at the airport
right where i left you,
because you deserve a break too.

see you in 5 days.
i'll meet you back at the airport.
James Floss Jun 28
Who to hedge?
Mayor Butigedge?
Camelot with Harris?
All trying to scare us
Bidin’ my time
With this rhyme
Oh! Sleepy Joe
Establishment’s gotta go
Does Bernie Sanders
Really furnish answers?
Can Gillibrand
Instill a better plan
Choose Hickenlooper
Over Agent Cooper?
Is Eric Swalwell
Really ready as well?
Is senate Bennett
Really in it?
With smart I could I hang
Can do, Andrew Yang
There on the end,
Author Williamson
Sometimes chiming in
Hanging in
Add it up, Kamala
Show us the algebra!
Universal health care
Always and everywhere
Here’ a real shocka:
Gotta keep that DACA
We need legislation
To fix immigration
And yes we can
Care for veterans
Tax the rich, *****!
Time to shun guns
Meet the feed need
Help the poor more
All in a home zone
And note every vote
And yo:
Not your embryo
kevin hamilton Sep 2018
true death and restless spirits
i remember all of their names
like they were mine
and the charity of cold
chimes forever
in a sea of salt

kicked down the cemetery gate
and kissed the ground
forgive me now
for the pain i caused
that night, canis minor wept
and all was dust
on the acropolis of troy

i am the one
who fell from dark
into an even greater void
The steps to the museum were many ,
as you helped me up the  steps ,
views to every room every living ***** of me .

You bought a program,
you called it art !

one chair in the gallery ,
my heart behind the glass ,
no paintings of fine art on display .
My heart a Spector ,
lies a ghost behind the wall ,
to burn ,
torcher ,
leave on the rack !
only then

and so might it bleed ?

It’s blood flowed down from traitors gate ,
I ate bread, long had it gone stale ,
for you judgements axe hung above me ,
and for once was about to fall .
Deaths daughter her crimson lips  did I touch .

A traitor ? not I .
A herotic maybe ,
for her touch was like no other ,
her words so beautiful your truth I could not see ,
though angels surrounded me with locks and keys ,
their sorrows tell .

Give me a field of bluebells and butterflies ..... and all will be well .

We walked down the steps the doors bolted behind ,
as evening cought the suns light high on chimney tops as
my heart found capture in you’re smile .
zebra Jul 2018
flex and perspire my darling
would you mind a small suffering for craven kisses
to have your dark fig **** and drenching *****
stroked with a tickling finger lingering
and strong hands around your sweetly curved throat
that shunt the breath
to yield willingly for sharp-toothed nibbles with surprise tongue whipping?

will you present your soft belly and cupping *******
for dark cruelties that excite beyond tabulation
will you present yourself with smiles
and goddess leg show
sobbing for feral pink spires gleaming
while quivering thighs
turn hot red from the slap of the leather strap splitting stings?

will tears of love
mix in wild berry utterance
and flashing spitfire’s tongue?

are you made for this?
your every whimper an invitation
like an open pink gate
do you need the saint of dark desires to rescue you
from banal dim-witted all american in and out?

do you need to drown in oceanic wave tsunamis
of hot butter **** glitter, blood flooding gasms
and tender aftercare?

my wish
that you shimmer like silver
possessed
by the saint of sadism
popes of eros
who fill you with the milk of the moon
all stars that melt you into the depths of paradise

and that this dark ecstasy
is the only suffering you will ever know.
your pain is my pleasure
mmmmm
AUGUST Nov 2018
Sitting on the corner while Starring
At the glances of your smile all over
Cover the room by your face unveiling
Up to this moment, I want to be near,
(you were a mile from here)

Thinking It was cloudy on my mind,
But when you are here by my side
You are making my day as bright
Showing the beauty behind,
(They have nothing to hide,
nothing to hide.)

How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?

l don’t much care about counting all of these,
As long as you are with me, you are my bliss

(I could tell,) heaven’s gate is not the place of happiest
And angels are not those prettiest,
Indeed, God is always be the wisest,
For sending me a fallen angel, I’ve caught the brightest, the brightest

Lately, You stole what between these lungs
You open my chest, You let it pour, my bleeding heart
I cant deny, how i feel, you are my crush
I have been stunned on Your eye lashes, (glances, perfume scents, and blushes)

How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?

Do I have to care about all of that anymore,
As long as you are with me, what should I have to ask for?

Emerald, jade, diamond, gold and silver,
I guess nothing is forever, unless me and you
In this world of deception, anyone can be a liar
Just remember, Nothing is to fear, I am always here.
.......I am always here.
Honestly, I did not know what is sonnet and how to make one, but I did it unconsciously. It is true that poets have a universal language in terms of making thier poems.

This was Dedicated for Margaret
Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
      overwhelms  unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge


A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace


Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed


The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
     unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind


An emotionally enslaved  heart
tarries,  marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
     lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless


Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate;  vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake


It's getting harder and harder
   for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
   climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree


  Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp


A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“  
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil


Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas



Jesse Stillwater
June     2018
Notes:                                                                                                          
a friend sent  a link to a deeply thought provoking modern classic 70's song about Vincent Van Gogh and the complexities of imperfection some of us relate .... i'd listened to the words prior but never heard before now.

  Title is last final lyric line from:  "Vincent" (Starry, Starry night) 1971
Writer(s): DON MCLEAN, ENRICO NASCIMBENI,
ROBERTO VECCHIONI
Lexie Dec 2018
I just want to put my hand over your mouth
Stiffle the stupidity as it streams out of your head
Maybe I am just bitter
Time changes things
But a rotten core is good for only swine
The fruit does not fall from the trees
You came back for the truth
It draws you in
But too close
And at what expense
You would light a fire
Yet you have no fear of flames
The apprehension tingles on my tongue and courses through my senses
I pick my words as though they were flowers in full bloom
As sweet as honey
Oh how I wish they would sting
For what is this mess you make of things
Just turning over soil when you could be planting crops
The nuts have been gathered
By those that will devour them with the hunger of a winter
If only I knew how to wait out the storm
I clasp my hands together but they will not clamp
The desperation beads on my forehead and slips into my mind
Salty thoughts and a foolish tongue
Must it be bound behind my teeth
When I would lash it against you like a whip
I want it to sting
That you would turn your foolish head in shame
For your pride carries everywhere you go
You will come to find me
I will be ready
But not waiting
The foolish feet that carry you
Have many lessons to be learned
You will look at me with eyes of desire
And I will burn you alive with the fire behind my eyes
Just to give you a glimpse
Of what is waiting for you
Just one gate away
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
This is not, a time to loosen up
Or nine to five job to give up
Just saddle up the power is in you
Five ladies cafe to dine at five and
drove_* the meter is running
(The Canadian Cup) team versus the
     Taxi Cup
He swooned you in your
Five dreamy but half heart sugars
Come on Baby bloomers
Let's see some boom!!

In your hips men will be men taking
frequent flyer trips temptation 1 2345
We need fewer digs one love teo reasons
World  345  heart flags
We don't have to cross our hearts
Perhaps tattoo heart legs no more strikes
Jumping Jack flash
What a rope in this isn't the Pope

Somehow we all get broke
To court her like your the lasso
stars cosmos hearts like Lassie
Never a change of subject how it
remains in your heart how it hit hard
to react but changed to five cards
Digging too long  lucky 777 like heaven
Heart digs

1-where?
Oh! There

No, I am here
We are always  
In-between
numbers_ I only
have 5 minutes
No I phone have a heart
Oh! where is designed for me
Those five plates

Whats in between them
      *Him

We are opening Live- Five
Strong heart to give the caring
The useful heart is never so daring
My gate* Girls are nail digging
Hugging

Or losing add +

Flirty
*****
Our community
Heftier like Jupiter
Heart to build
the gravity
A big kiss hunch
of five roses

Your getting to bloom
but only have
5 extra movie parts
The front dress mermaid tail
Your heart delicate hands
opened up your emails
I think you hit the
Jackpot

Max to the million shot
No heart of gold
Only more leaders
Scrambling and digging
your fork
Mixing those egg beaters

Five men think they know
there women
like ten
commandments
Turn to five wrong
engagements
There it goes the lucky
five arguments

A plot beating
like a hot-shot
The French Baguette
Bread 9 to 5 firecracker
Five-carat baguette
wedding band in her safe
Heart digs to five hands
Heart neck guilty as a giraffe

The cafe house had only
5 cups left  they sold you out
Only Five Bed and breakfast
stayers
Do detailed with their Ladyfingers
But need more alone time
Be on time get sweet key lime
What is real-time so sublime

That rose- paper cut- origami
Sorcerer of five he was like the
cold cuts of big Sub Salami
Japanese sword samurai
What a Geronimo Oh! no
Jericho
This wasn't a hot potato

Or Gizmo No-Go
Getting a shot for Polio
The gusto songs to the heart play
Maestro the Cosmo's
The five stars to heart his
afterglow
Like a titanic ship but heroics

Five lunatics wedding horns ******
Five two timer Mario gamers
so demonic
DOMINO'S bed five students wed
We dug deeper get-up sleepy-head
Exposed cries location set
Network U- dig cups

Something lip curved
He misplaced my lips
What did he do in exchange
More stocks and hard stone rocks
Like frying pan egg
scrambled words

Crossed heart Rapper so believing
The Fox five sticking tacky glue
His CD Rose lying pants no clue
Painful pointed shoes need R&R
     Robin's *Responsibilities
       The Heart On Replay
The deeper you dig to restart

The healthy organically grown brain
Men on Pause I truly believe nature
takes its course
but another beat to go is that so?
And if so heart digs to five
Feel the good vibe in another tribe
Five times I had to wake you up
I am the love cure reminiscing

Giving me five reasons
Our beautiful change of
heart in season

Studying the fine art heart
Referencing
Never refusing thats life
five-step to strive nothing
Fancy

Robin shoutbox she getting
her point across
Either you're the worker or loner
The heart pleaser the boss
Your heart looks good
on your dress
Whether we win or deep mess
The good heart can change to
a bad start

Recharge your heart count to five
Venus- beauty moved on like a
pathologist digging over staying alive
The hearts what digs this is not the 9-5 workers we are talkers
and long settling in heart walkers come any join me we may actually be alive did I get a live one
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