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Patrick Jul 2018
I hear a knock upon my door. Or was it there inside my head, where only ever dread for the things in life I can't obtain remains; No matter how hard I may in one form or another train?

And so I'll sell a piece of my soul yet again; My price of admission to taste love's glory for but a momentary grin.

With you it was so much different.
My heart is still broke, but my real loss is more than conviction.
I lost my heart, my soul, my vision.
A future bleaker than a demonic prediction.

My mind is racing as I try to relax but thoughts of you come rushing back.

I try to close my eyes to snore but there's always a monster lurking behind memory's door.

And as I recalled I saw my cursed fate,
Always here to be here but never to stay.
I'm airport luggage thrown and lost,
Maybe sought another day.
But I'll still love you through any amount of pain.

I've loved before you but never loved in this way: So full of passion and love for who we both are and could be. I'd marry you now and yet I've never stopped you to say that you're such an invaluable friend, and I'm sorry I can't be okay and pretend that he's not the pefect man to heal your heart and share your pain.

I hate that I'm not only jealous but hurt when I shouldn't feel so deeply burnt by the girl that stole my heart; She's so far beyond my worth.

But she came at night and without a knife she took my heart off it's throne in life, and put it kneeling like she had the key. As if some Divine being that, before we had even met, had my heart beat.

Your love for him is clear even from afar,
And so my heart will beat forever subpar.

So confusing are you truly to me.
The one thing I know is you are the one to whom my soul and heart chose to leave me to be. 

Maybe heartless and soul-less should go hand in hand? Ripped from the body by something far greater than man. 
Something unknowingly more than human, yet divined by human hands.

Ill be content that while I'm still so broke, She can be healed and her love will help her float: And she can finally forgive herself for the wrongs He wrote.

She'll shoulder the pain and strife of life, 
With love beside her every night.
I can be okay but never better,
So I write to myself and you all this letter.

I'm high as a kite,
And just as exposed,
I will never not hear the call of my soul.

Depart away so you can hate me,
And close the chapter of my life called meaning.
I want only for you to be whole.
Regardless of cost, repercussion or role.

My love for you will live until dawn rises untouched by Earth's rock.

Yet ever haunting as a ghost who only ever knocks.
A Mar 2014
You close all your doors on me
And leave windows slightly opened
So I try to see what's inside
But you turned off all the lights

I gather up all the courage
As I take the steps to your front door
I knock and ask, "Is anybody in?"
And you say, "Don't bother anymore."

a.g
Wilkes Arnold Mar 2016
I was relaxed, and deep in thought
The type of talk that silence brought
When just in earshot it rocked,
tick tock
tick tock
"Must be a clock"
I told myself and resumed my thought

Though as the seconds passed I could not,
Despite the will with which I fought
Do to its incessant knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I searched for the clock
Unable to find the train I sought

I grew more and more distraught
With each and every tick and tock
That find the clock, I could not
As the silence grew more fraught
With the knock,
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
I knew the pain of Lancelot

On and on it ticked and tocked
I cursed at the unseen dreadnought
It no longer merely mocked
But each and every tick and tock
Became an unseen onslaught
TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK
T'was 11 o'clock,
When my heart felt the gunshot

Though the shots I could not block
And on and on the bullets poured
Further into the fray I bored
Each foot a cinderblock
Weighed by war
I slowly walked
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
How I'd make it answer for

Alas
With little blood left to speak for Desperately I implored
"Restrain your hands that caused such gore;
We need not fight evermore!"
But when I heard the ceaseless knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I new my words had been ignored
And slowly collapsed to the floor

****** and bludgeoned when I hit bed rock, I had still found no clock
But tick and tock it had forgot
The church bell rang t'was 12 o'clock,
Though mortal wounds the seconds wrought
I no longer was distraught
And as I lay in the hemlock
It occurred in my last thoughts
I would miss the beating knock
tick..., tock...
tick..., tock...
First poem looking for feed back critical and complimentary
My Haseena

late night
pillow fights
watching stars
airplane flights
Wow’ babe, come see the morning clouds
With peaceful doves
Flying above
Wet kisses
Like a washed dishes
Sweat on yo breast
Di* grew stronger
Felt the touch of your hand on my hair
And the other hand romancing my back
just me and you
After waiting for so long
Oh my gosh,
Yo high heels tinkling my legs
Night gown wet
I’m ready and set
***** shaved clean, nuh hair.
My dear queen can I come in ?
No! Not what you think
I mean can I **** it ?
Let me give you the legendary of me
phypsyyor
Note to dreamboat ♥️
zumee Jun 30
Who's there?
Mother Nature
Mother of who?
Mother of you
What do you want?
Can't you tell
Tell you what?
Whether you're a mistake
or just a nice idea

Is it degrading to call humanity an idea? asking for a friend
Greca Cortes Aug 2018
Shades and hues
Constructed and abused
I knock at the door of justice
"Who has allowed this?"
Everyone is displaced and misrepresented
When did you let a senseless screen numb your senses?
Blissful Nobody Aug 2018
I lay under the sheets,
Undressed and yearning,
Famished and waiting,
For a taste of ambrosia.

Knock knock knock!
Come now and come in,
Embrace your desire,
And ravish my senses.

Don’t tease me,
I am at my peak,
Mortally enraptured,
By my physical form.

Come lay beside me,
Put your hands on me,
Take me whole,
I surrender in flesh.

Caress my *******,
Moisten my urges down,
Hold me tight,
And feel me now.

Hold me down now,
Watch me sizzle,
With fierce intensity,
Burn my passion out.

I need your body,
When mine takes over,
Come in and take it all,
Out ; when I simmer down.

Come again when I desire,
Hear my carnal call,
I want you in me,
A taste of ecstasy.

I lay here now,
Bare on the bed,
Ceased by desire,
Free me now.

Restless feet bother,
Kiss them and in between,
Soften the bridges,
So you may pass.

Forward and backward,
All leads to ecstasy,
Touch me whole,
Touch me now .
Experimenting with erotica;)
Steve Page Oct 2018
And when you pray
Ask from your heart
And when you pray
Seek from your soul
And when you pray
Sniff around without ceasing
Through your tears
To find the doors
That He has prepared
To brand new frontiers
For you, His pioneers.
And then -
Knock.
A lesson from Redeemer London.  Matthew 7.
Bella Jun 2018
Death knocks on the door with flowers
She does not answer

He knocks again
She blocks the door

He shouts her name
She buys a new houses

He comes again
And she builds a Panic Room

He shouts once more
And she locks the Panic door

He breaks into the house
And she blockades the hallway

He rattles the handle
She puts in ear plugs

He kicks and he screams
And she goes to sleep

Alone
In her chamber of solitude
With nothing
And no one
Left
Dreaming peacefully
As he breaks down the door
This is to my grandma
Joanna Aug 2
Bright eyes smiles shared, soft reflections of moments
of being there.

Connected dots lead to an old and trusted friend.
Life goes on in circles when it is time to mend.

Talk for an hour admit your need. Come away freed
of infectious weeds.

Detours and potholes up ahead, street signs say 'go
this way instead.'

As cancer knocks at a hidden door, real life goes
on as before.

Leaving me wondering what is coming down the track.
And at the same time determined not to dwell on what
I lack.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
KM Hanslik Feb 28
Baby blue
Standing there in your worn-out shoes
your fingers are gardeners
I am planted in your soil
and if the world is maybe 4.6 billion years
of re-twisting and retrying new sequences of DNA
then I think this is the end-all
200,000 years leading up to this,
200,000 years and I am standing in your light;
because you are the gardener and I am the flower
raise me kindly and I will grow back every year
tend me daily and I will bloom only for you
knock-outs, we're made strong
defy the odds
I will repeat your song
back to you
even when you have forgotten it
even when the cold surrounds you
I belong to you.
Xaela San Oct 2018
Knock- knock
         I'm knocking on your heart

Knock- knock
         Can you feel my hand reach unto your heart?

Knock- knock
          I've been knocking on your heart for so long

Knock- knock
         It seems I'm not welcome in your heart.
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.    
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds omongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang!~ set them running.
I cut them down!
I cut them down!
-
I heard the sirens as the cops sped up the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
More shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang!  
Bang! ~I put my hands up!
~and the cops took me down!
-
It's true ~
Judge I’m guilty, for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on monday,  Tuesday,, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; till i was insain;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang ~I cut them down ~ I cut them down!
~
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ I put my hands up !
~ and the cops  took me down!

But the wolf just gave me twenty
untill the circus came to town,
As a victim I was lonely
but as a killer I was crowned.
King of the castle!
Top of the heap!
The talk of the town!
Here is the song link
https://youtu.be/j9whsrQCaIE
Writer's block again,
and from return; my heart descends.
A knock, at the door?
What are they here for?
Hiding in the floors, the deaths
of my enemies,
a funeral of my thoughts,
and they were meant to stay away.
Yet you wished them here,
just so you can write them.
And they want you near,
so you can recite them.
Insightful, isn't it?
You need to invite them in,
and this time; they'll only stay
for the titles and poetry, no.
You're much too confident
that you can kick them out,
you need them;
and they want you.
Next evacuation;
hopefully you'll choose
yourself,
but we know you never
do-
I kick out my demons, and they get back in every time. I hate it.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
All was good 'till you came
along, we've had our differences.
I refuse to build a house
of cards with you if you
keep knocking it down.
Because the more you
knock it down I stupidly
start to rebuild it.
I give up being the
only one actually trying,
you can continue knocking
it down but I refuse to rebuild it.
Tammy M Darby Sep 2018
They are checking their list and checking it twice
Making a note whose leaning left or right
The CIA is coming to town.

They know when your cheating on your taxes
Checking Facebook they know when your awake
When your smoking Humboldt ****
Or chatting online with the Russians
So knock off for goodness sake

With hidden accounts offshore
Track and keep score
They know exactly who you are voting for
The CIA is coming to town.

OOOOOOOOOO you better watch out
You better not shout
You better be good
Check under the hood ( boooom)
The CIA is coming to tooooooooooooown

Dont panic........ its Political Satire folks

@ copyright Tammy M Darby Sept. 6, 2018
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***,
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.

Logan Robertson

7/25/2018
I give you A nod, A how do you do.
You nod right back, in the politest way too.
I give you wave, on this particular day,
You copied my wave, in a similar way.
I moved to one side, to let you get by,
Yet you waited for me, without saying why.
I smiled at you, as you moved on behind,
I think maybe we’ve passed, some other time.
I change my path, from this way to that,
Then suddenly I see you, coming right back.
Is this simply A minor coincidence,
One of those that makes no sense.
Then I stop, I see you there,
Fixated on me, with your dark stare.
I dart to my left, you move to your right,
Your following me, I know your type.
I start to move, I pick up my pace,
Thats when we begin to race.
I criss and I cross, to shake you off.
I duck and I dive, to bide more time.
I have to stop for it’s no use,
For me to try too lose you.
You check mate me right throughout,
Without A SHADOW of A doubt.
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
If I can't be your Daughter,
then I won't be your son.
Forget the shame and
just move on.
The next time you won't see me
I'll be wearing a skirt
and not doing just to please you
would just hurt.

By letting you go there's
nothing I lose,
I care not what you think,
nor of your views.
You should've known anyway,
"A Mother knows" or so they say.
You've run out of time,
I won't wait anymore.
So go and tell that to
the other four.

In fact they too are to leave me alone,
don't knock on my door
and don't try to phone.
You've ignored me too long and
in that time I've grown.
In fact, you've taught me
how to live alone.
The Woman I am has no
fear anymore.
Now walk straight through it,
I'm showing you the door.

Poetry by Kaydee.
As comfortable as it might make you.
I don't have bird flu, I'm not bi-polar,
and I don't have ebola.
I'm a transgender woman and
have been since 14.
Tanay Sengupta May 2018
Let it be grey.
It has never rained like this before,
I like it this way.

I don't care if it is night or day.
For all the times I have felt sore,
Let it be grey.

They will not come today.
No one will knock the door,
I like it this way.

There is nothing for me to say.
I want to listen to the clouds roar,
Let it be grey.

The wind whistles my stress away.
And I have nothing to cry for,
I like it this way.

My mind wanders away.
My eyes marvel at the downpour,
Let it be grey.
I like it this way.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
I leave this poem to your perception. Feel free to interpret it the way you want to. Happy reading!
Morgan Mercury Jul 2013
I found you in the cracks of winter. On our first date, we drank tea from cups bigger than our faces. You also told me you wrote poetry. I noticed how every time you would lick your lips before you would speak. The first time you read me a poem your window was open and it was raining. Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat six times. I was smitten. After our third date, I showed you my favorite place in the world. I took you to a bay on the outskirts of town. I told you the stories I carved into the sand a long time ago. I told you I came here every time the world kept turning but I felt as though I've fallen off, waiting for a guitar solo crash or a midnight knock on my window.

I wanted to tell you, you were my midnight knock. You let me hold your book of poems that night. There were bite marks in them from when you said you climbed up in trees back when you were as tall as the kitchen counter. We had conversations of Bon Iver and soccer as we laid on the sandy bay.

I realized that night I wanted to be there with you when the clock swallows up your time and watch indie movies on Netflix when there is nothing good on TV. I turned to look into space and swallowed all my feelings. I felt hollow when I looked at you and noticed your skin was old and tired. But you looked at me like you were young. You said I was the first to make you feel this way. I was smitten.

At first, I looked at you like a star but ended up seeing the whole solar system.
TheMystiqueTrail Dec 2018
Mind benumbed with a dreary monotony;
thoughts rambling like the black and gloomy clouds
trying to break the boredom of the winter sky.
Dark dust of melancholy
clouding the senses to a hazy opaqueness.

I hibernate,
with shoots of life
sleeping inside me
waiting for the knock of Spring
on the frozen shell of my consciousness.

Latent I lie,
with hues of magic trancing in my soul.

Latent I’ll lie,
till the soft brush of springtime
paints my world in a
flurry of psychedelic colours.
After Lust watched her client leave her hotel room she picked up her communicator off the dresser and called Greed her **** who was also her husband.

"Hello Greed where are you?" asked Lust as she sat on the bed.

"I just arrived at the Blue Flame Hotel.  I'll be at your room soon" answered Greed.

"Ok Greed I'll see you when you get here" said Lust.

Lust got dressed and waited on Greed.  Within ten minutes there was a knock on Lust's hotel room door.  Lust opened the door and let Greed in.

"Where's my money?" asked Greed as soon as he entered the room.

"Greed you act like you don't trust me.  You promised to lay riches at my feet and put power in my hands" said Lust.

"Trust you? I do trust you but not a hundred percent" said Greed.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum
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