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925 Apr 2015
Cutting across the ice,
Sunlight hair whipping across my face.
With glacial silver blades,
The concern fades.

Feelings erupt as I glide,
Worries set aside.
One foot to the next,
But its much more complex.

Becoming a different character,
But only in the winter.
All good things come to an end,
And I have to say good bye to my best friend.

The feelings come back when I’m on solid ground,
The anger and sadness unwound.
A human who prefers frozen water over earth,
Something obviously went wrong during birth.
Nicole Alyssia Mar 2014
She sits across from us in silence
Little do we know, her world is caving in
Gasping for air-
Drowning in her own skin

Her cries for help murmured by the sweet sound of denial
A comfort she knows all too well..
Desperate to belong,
Her sense of self begins to quell

The mirror is her worst enemy
The pain runs deeper than the surgeons knife
Completely broken inside
She contemplates taking her own life

Fixated on her reflection
With each glance she slowly dies inside
If only they could feel her angst,
She wouldn't hide behind her disguise

No matter how hard she tries to control
It's something like a fearless haze...
Creeping through her unconscious....
Creating the craze

She flashes us a smile,
Pretending that she's fine
Yet, she prefers to stay alone
Imprisoned by her mind.
L B Aug 2017
Never sure who's boss between us
He comes when called
several minutes later...

Blinking sweetly
smiling as only cats can
Golden, half-moons of sunlit bliss
watch fat yellow-jacket
marginally motivated

The hunt cannot compare
to the soft grass with its tender clover
a  full belly
and the meeter-of-all-needs nearby

But the quick jitter-dance
of an easy moth
sends the tiger
to the jungle of forsythia
Gleaming, stalking stripes
Alternating white of paws in precise approach
The prey?  Too quick
The predator?  Too old and lazy
prefers attention
Lumbers slowly back
lolling against coffee cup
Enough....

On needles of white pine
a secret lion has lain down

waiting only for the lamb
This was written for my, 16 year-old cat, Joseph. who's been gone a while now.  I thought of the poem as I said good-bye to my latest pet, Bailey,  whom I buried this week.  
I do believe I'll see them again in the resurrection, when He will restore all  things in peace-- granting life again to all in which was the breath of life.
She came to the farm a shy stray,
hid in the woodshed for days.
Food and water left for her
keeping her alive. In time though
very nervous, little by little
keeping some distance, upon
the porch she climbed.

After a month she ascended
a chair next to mine, where
in the spring sunshine we two
set side by side. Not touching
or speaking just biding our time.

One day she reached out a paw
placing it on my knee, politely
asking permission to step onto
my lap.  Her fear overridden
by the need for companionship.

She prefers to remain mostly
outside, but everyday she comes
to my door and with outreached
front paws she frantically scratches
up and down on the glass.
I feed her then feeling safe she sleeps
awhile on the back of the couch,
eventually seeking gentle
permission to sit upon my lap,
on a soft blanket kept just for her.

She purrs with contentment all the while,
taking cat naps now and then, as I
stroke and caress her head and chin,
occasionally opening her sparkling grey
eyes to study my face, as if to be reassured
it's me touching her and that I'm still there.

In her eyes if that is not devoted love  
and gratitude I see looking back at me,
I don't know what else it could possibly be.
Even my dog is under her spell, If I do not let
her right in when she comes to the glass door
he will pace and annoy me until I let "his" cat
friend in. Our animal companions own us
we do not own them.

Whenever the dog and I go for a walk in the
orchard or even out to the road to get the mail
she always appears to accompany us. When in
the house, she follows me from room to room
as if to make sure I don't disappear. Lucky are
we all to have found one another.
Hollow Steve May 2018
Classy child performing his seance,
grasping whatever he can.
Not like he craves anything.
He prefers non eyes.
I call him, It.
Crazy and belligerent.
It deems to make so some changes..
Just tentacles spilling all around.
No worry.
Another sip took,
another note noted
It slips and slides and ends....
At some point.
Nevermind,
It was idiotic to begin with.
I shouldn't ever have even started..
But composure pushes me otherwise.
Poking it's eyes.
It's been a while.
Do you even see where you're going?
Not the drinkers,
only the clown..
Only the mime..
It
Traveler Sep 2018
The man behind the curtain
Speaking loud and certain
His image twisted and blurred
Larger than life
His armies and might
Imperialism is what he prefers

The little people do his bidden
On the senate floor of Oz
With pockets full
Of yellow brick gold
Their children live like gods

While those outside the castle
Have fallen fast to sleep
Trekking through the ***** field
Light upon their feet

The witches all have risen
From the four horizons
Of night
The  Emeralds City
Is riding on
The ruby slippers flight...
Traveler Tim
Medusa Jun 28
Me too, baby, I get it.
We argued a lot last night
My kid said it wasn’t “fighting”
He prefers to call that a ‘hissy fit’

How did he grab hold of my mother’s words?

He never even met his grandma.

A sophisticated word
He claims that ******
We were attempting
‘‘T’was just an argument”

You must hold your tongue
In your hand now, walk backwards
I just can’t look at you today
You, the nuclear excused

You who believes he rises
Each day anew, beloved
Again in the face of the gods’
Own tribunal?

I don’t buy it.
We start in Greek Street.
Not any old night,
But the end of an age,
A grand finale;
Last orders,
Before the corporate boyz move in,
To whitewash the Coach & Horses,
Where inky Boho Jeffrey Bernard drank …
Gary Dunnington, the actor, and his mates are out.

Meanwhile, a mom runs her hands,
Though my strands.
Tell me everything, she enthuses,
About your hair.
But there’s nothing to say:
I barely wash it,
Never brush it,
And only finger combe it.
But she carries on in my locks,
Then off to dinner with her bloke

We head for 57, Trisha's,
A lively basement heaven,
In energy, in noise, in smoke.
I chat with Mark on a stool.
Got his heart broke.
It’s hard,
When love ***** up,
To sever those traumatic bonds,
Thick as pillar posts,
Goodbye, the cocktail of toxicity,
That had you on a high for months,
The ***, the texts, the tenderness,
Ahhh, ****, the love.

Kass, a boxer musician, comes
And shakes our hands.
He’s in Armani,
And says,
His eyes dark little pressed raisins,
He prefers a poet over a bruiser.
I don’t fight no more,
If I did,
I’d **** ‘em, so I don’t bother.

In the other corner,
Two girls with dreamy eyes,
So I read ‘em love poems.

Then Jessica Appleby pops her head round the door.
We hug and then swap tales:
I’m all messed up, I tell her.
What not her, the one you wrote that poem for.
My man, she confides.
All crazy passion and wild *** for two months,
Then nothing.
Just fizzled out like it was never meant to be.

Mary exits.

You alright Gary?
Yeah, you?
Fine.
I don’t buy him a beer,
A bottle of Peroni is £5.
No, it’s £3, he says, if you pay cash.
Okay, I head for the bar.
Three times I explain it’s £3 cash to the barman.
Who told you that?
Gary.
Well, tell Gary, if he doesn’t shut the **** up,
He’ll be paying a fiver next time, too.

A young American artist, Kirsty, starts talking to me.
She’s trying to get ahead in art,
And says, that when she was a kid,
On a black Tuscany night filled with stars,
She walked out onto a stone balustrade balcony,
And knew, in that moment,
She was no longer her mom and dad,
But herself, Kirsty.

The boxer musician shoves a tall fellow hard against a wall,
The altercation,
Is over before it starts.

Kass gives me a wolfish smile.
Mark buys me a drink.
Kirsty slips off to the toilet.
Mark goes home.
The corner girls have long since gone.

Everyone is cleared from the yard,
Just Gary and I linger with a feisty young bar lady,
Serving the Bohos of Soho.

Drinking in their pathos,
Exhaling in the shadows,
Mingling in their juices.
As my ****** up heart, beats,
With the Bohos of Soho.
Ahhh, the Bohos of Soho keep many hours.
The Bohos of Soho,
The Bohos of Soho,
The Bohos of Soho,
Have many lives,
The Bohos of Soho are a good seed.
You and I,
Out in Soho,
For last orders.
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
He stays
Silent
Most of the time

If he have to tell
Something
Elegant

That instant
He prefers
A brief whispers

Too exclusive
Too simple
He is aware of

Bystandar
Believes
It must be
A Poetry
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Soothing whispers
Jayne E May 13
PRELUDE
________
[ I would engage but disengaged
enamoured masked fetid cage.
To sit spit splutter to cough it up
spit it all out
all over the pensive penners page
words turned **** fugly loves pup ]
_________

Alla allua all al alala allis all is
Well that blends the well,
Wait! Wait!
(bit nipply in here)
nope that's not quite it, try,
All is ill that bends will..ok
One more go,
All is well that ends well
Right?   rite!  write? ok, ok,
this has been happenin for days,
pen sieves    
spent    
spinning lines
All over the place,

Whirling dervishes spinning fine
lines crossing, sparkling, in my kind
mind, finds the bind, blinds, then unbinds
Better yet     Get    in     behind
(Aussie shepherds call out)
Oh holy **** dressed up like a duck
Ok..I got this, really I do,
let's seem to find a seam take two,
better yet...mark it...scene set & action!

Bn California dreamin
stealin,
creamn,
little kittys pretty
Vannah & Clementine
their morning rituals feeding lines
a ***** pushing
faucet fed H20
odd observations
one kink 4 kitty cat
prefers to take her water right on tap
still my keys go  
tap   tap   tap
Queen Vannah aloof saunters to lap
to sit to think,
not counter fed drink,
she's way too cool for school,
what were we talking about?
it gets little hard to think
you standing naked
smiling
by the kitchen sink

Ahhhhh...love..the emotions spout,
refer crazy prior lines
fed by loves fire,
tossing feelings
up,
down,
in and out,
twist it,
turn it, up, down
shake it out

there is love of lovers,
there is love of mothers,
there is love of others,
sisters, cousins, friends, brothers
those kind of others
the cliché would say...
"It finds you when you stop seeking"
or,
"expect it when you least expect it"
usually historically my reply maybe,
yawn -
mass conditioning speaking

funny tho how things work out,
how someone says
"how you feeling"
transmutes transcends
to not ok...
then,
just flat out ascends
to big bursting clouds  
bountiful love reeling in,
from a kind word uttered
love
begins,
again

the hearts flower slowly opens
it's the hope
love carries upon it's soft
scented breeze,
it's the joy
love communicates
whilst on her knees,
and the tenderness
felt between them
she, he, the we,
in the squeeze

bunches of fist clutched sheets
bitten lips my heartbeat
thundering in my head
language of panted moans
native to our bed
fingers pressed
the the back of your head
your features lost
between my legs


ahhhh, yes, yes, yes!
loves steady heartbeat
the     thrum    thrum      thrum
wondrous beating
upon loves drum,
and how each new fresh
transformative experience
of love
transcends the past,
as again we relish,
the skipped beats
warm moistened seats,
the play the foray
a new wave way

as sweetly tendered lovely love,
delivers up finely sublime
all soaked delicious
steeped in rhyme,
that elusive now found,
brighter sunny day.
so, to end, what of love?
well,
Id say,
let it play,
oh all for lovely love,
let it play!

J.C. "honey owl" 28/04/2019.
Not my 'usual' style this one hmm...has double roots, it's of endings, and new beginnings brought in upon lovely new loves wings and how love can hit you like a freight train when you least expect it..or when you are not looking for it...and how it can to a degree addled your brain lol
Tabitha Lee Jun 26
You know when someone says
"I love you."
For me it is hard to believe.
If you got betrayed more time then your own fingers
you would too.

When my own lover says
"You matter to me."
Why is this hard to understand for me?
Why is so hard for a lifeless corpse like to understand?

It is because my life is hanging on by a thread
Because I knows how to tie a noose when the time is right
But never goes that way because I prefers pills

But when someone says
Joseph Zenieh Jul 2018
MIND AND ETERNITY
I love man as he has flesh like beasts, but with mind.
Creatures live their own lives caring for food and drink.
They get wed and enjoy all the mirth that man owns,
but don't have mind to think of their fate and cruel death.

Doubts and cares wrap the time that man spends here on earth.
He prefers obscure span than to know when death comes.
If he knows, he'll count days, fearing what he will meet
at the end of that span that comes as a fast blink.

His mind is a sharp tool; one side cuts, one side cures.
It vests man in soft ruth as he fears hateful truth.
It breaks hearts and makes man all his life live in fear,
of his death and his grave while all beasts prance and cheer.

Can mind be a bliss sign that tells man life won't end?
Has God sent a clear proof to those who have this mind?
It tells them that this tool is the fruit of that tree
that shows evil and good, so from death man gets free.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________
Irate Watcher Feb 27
He's headed to the roller rink
She's headed downtown
To see no one
to be around nobody
a perfect night to themselves
doing nothing for nobody.

He sits in his car
the music blaring
softly sighing
hoping to
drown out
the latest saga
Why must others make their
problems his problems.
See, he has his own problems
But he doesn't put them on other people.
He prefers to purge then on paper
Get them out and forget about them
Because these things aren't important
When the night is cool
and it's about to rain
And the lights stream by like bolts
speeding down a empty road.

Wanta
Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake his hands
whip his hair
ridiculously.
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything not to go inside.

She's biking in Noho
It's 2am and it's
that California cool outside.
Riding with no handlebars
playing some Dorian concept,
burning a natural high.
Another sleepless night
remedied by impulsiveness
and exercise.

She don't want to go home
seems like this bike path
could stretch till the end.
And anyone who stares
is just a pedal away
a pedal behind
makes her feel so safe.

Wanta
Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake her hands
whip her hair
ridiculously.
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything never to go inside.

He hears a song
nostalgic it travels
him in time,
head back he closes his eyes -
trying to remember
what it felt like to ride
open and exposed to the
elements, his headphones in
jamming.

She feels the bright
of headlights.
just one more block to go,
her hands cold
and forehead sweating.
Her thighs burning,
her back aching.
Her hairs standing,
her face clammy.

Wanta
Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake her hands
whip her hair
ridiculously.
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything not to go inside.
A little song for my introverted self
Bob B Dec 2018
I tell you it's hard to live with a man
Who's always so preoccupied
With making other people happy,
Especially at Yuletide.

Time and again I've asked why he
Prefers to live in this frigid zone.
And then he works each Christmas Eve
While I have to stay home alone!

I mean, why this bias of Christmas
With winter and snow year after year
When it's nice and steamy on Earth's
Beautiful southern hemisphere?

Don't get me wrong: I don't begrudge
His eleemosynary devotion
To making other people happy.
That's a kind and generous notion.

But his thoughts are always on
"The kids," and so, I feel neglected.
And yet I always put on the front
Of being cheerful, cool and collected.

Another thing I must admit:
It's hard for a wife whose hubby enjoys
An overwhelming fascination
Or infatuation with all his toys!

You might think the man is cute;
However, I am less enthralled.
He suffers from puer aeternus.
At least that's what I think it's called.

I tell him, "Dear, I understand
Your thoughtful desire to do good deeds,
But maybe you are overdoing it.
Don't forget: wives have needs."

I sometimes think the worst might happen
Whenever my spirits start to sink.
I have to muster up inner strength
To stop myself from taking to drink.

I'd love to be able to find a place
Where we could spend some time by ourselves.
It isn't easy to live with a man
Who spends all his time with reindeer and elves.

Oh, well…I guess it's true:
Every marriage has its flaws.
But try to imagine what it's like
To be Mrs. Santa Claus.

-by Bob B (12-25-18)
Red Jun 7
Within the silence
that lay so bare
so much can be seen
between the air
of two souls who's
hearts beat fair

What can be gazed
is the poise
that only a body
can create without the noise
Cause unlike
a mouthful of words
A body does not need
a breath of hestitation first
To make you act
On instinct
That your innate gut
naturally prefers
I begin writing this for one reason I know many confusingly lack, thrashing about in the desperate darkness of existence and uncertainty, and fear of oblivion, and that is; to spread hope.
          The world is caught in a flood of races of every kind, money, power and respect. Most are lost admist these and once they are caught up too deep, life at one point, loses all meaning and has them staring up at an empty wall. Many spend time listlessly trying to come to terms with belief that they're pathetically not so sure is true. Beliefs rooted on the philosophy around death. And because I have been blessed enough to have been one of those gifted with certainty, I wish to share the knowledge and spread hope, because the Creator's blessings are not to be selfishly accumulated for oneself only.
                  Concerning the purpose of life, life is merely a test, a temporary lodging where we will have to prove ourselves by remaining patient and striving for goodness and fulfilling our purpose of being. The life after death, the afterlife, the reality of which I wish to impose, is the real deal. I can swear it, for it is the promise of the Creator, whose truthfulness cannot be contested.
                   For all those hopeless, battling cancer, facing the looming threat of death, know that there is more to existence than the pleasures of this life, but on one condition; you must earn it. Or try. In real, all of us can only try, for nothing our actions may deserve can be as blessed a reward as the reward of an afterlife in Heaven. The actions required are as simple as this, merely obey the Creator who keeps us breathing, bleeding and breeding.
                    As a human being, I've been through what I consider trying times. Difficulties exist in all places, property, people and emotions. It's these difficulties that pressurize you to either crumble into dust, or emerge a diamond. Through my personal experience, I've discovered that, in the end, nothing from this world is permanent. In the end, your part of the world is about you, Islam and Allah. Even your mother, she'll have to go sometime. Sure you can have it all back in the afterlife, but not here. Things are temporary, we get attached to things, but we have to learn to let go to. Except for Islam and Allah. Letting go of Allah means you might as well let go of everything, nothing more will do us any real good.
                       The philosophy that Islam has founded in me is this; whatever plays out in life, the absolute authority, the Power Ultimatum is Allah. So if you strive to be one of those Allah loves, favors and is pleased with, whatever the occurrence, seemingly good or bad for us personally, is on the whole is always the best for us. Whatever the obstacles, whatever the hardships, they are merely things Allah has placed for you to deal with, for you to bear patience and perseverance through. In the folds of Islam, no believer faces a 'Why Me?!' moment. It is always a question of whether you stick with Allah or not. And success in that determines your peace, both in this, and the afterlife. You might fall back, fall down, but getting back on and up is crucial, is the question itself whose answer determines your true happiness. One of the keys is not to succumb to despair, the sort of despair that is devoid of hope, which is an instability in belief. The sort of despair that has no place in Islam, really.
                   All of us have been through depressing times. But to go through that depression knowing it's just a passing thing, a slight test, and to know that after all you always have Allah, that is what Islam has founded in me.
Allah warns us Himself that he has 'created man in toil'. Hardship will always be a huge part of our lives. And it's how we deal with it that matters.
The reason I wrote this is because I didn't feel I in any way deserve the ability to not delve into the depths of hopeless depression. Which is why Islam is the religion prescribed for mankind. Islam is the truth, and in truth, you find comfort, because this Universe is a beautiful thing and few experiences are as bad as going through life tangled in problems, blind to this beauty. When you go through the Universe and life with Allah, you realize you are truly content and that there is nothing but good in the world for one who intends good. That, and that you are one of those lucky enough to have found the toil hard enough to disentangle yourself from this worldly mess and realize the truth, that none of this is permanent and all else will come to pass. Don't get me wrong, You Only Live Once, by which I mean, you only get to do the test once, and your afterlife, for eternity, depends on it. Much like A/Ls and how the future of your life depends on it, but on an existential basis. This is huge. Yet pathetically, many don't realize that.
                 But many times, Muslims, get the idea of Islam wrong. The idea of religious is misinterpreted most times. Religious is fulfilling the duties and responsibilities you have towards Allah, the world and yourself. And one of them is to enjoy your life. Carrying out any work that fulfills the daily tasks you need to get through life for the sake of Allah is a form of Ibadah. It in itself is rewarding. But the crucial thing here is the Niyyath, the intention. And every man shall have that but which he intended.
                   Everyone has a purpose in life, and a part of the world they light up. There are no 'side-effects'.

I really am not trying to spread religion, I'm simply trying to spread hope, but it's inevitable because Hope exists in only one place. And that is in Allah, and for that, in Islam. Allah is merely the Arabic word for God. Yet, I strictly adhere to The name 'Allah' and not God because it is the name Allah chose for Himself and prefers to be called by, and if anything, I respect that. So the 'Allah' isn't the name of a new God or something like that. Allah is God, Allah literally means God, and merely implies the one and only Creator of the Universe and all in existence, the supreme power. Islam is called the religion of truth for a reason. You will find nothing but truth in Islam and don't underestimate or even think of doubting the promises of the Creator.
If you truly intend on finding Allah, finding peace and guidance on how to tread this complicated world and just Why, Why is all of this, Is? Why are we?, then you will find it. For Allah guides those that seek with sincerity.
I lie in cellars so my hot thoughts on Perka **** don't freeze me out
in the attic & elsewhere from my dippy Car Nicobar darling's tease,
when she trash-talks me mercilessly in Austro-Asiatical Nicobarese
as she prefers a pidgin language to politely-enunciated Shompenese
Car Nicobar (Pu in Car language) is the northernmost of the Nicobar Islands. It is also one of three local administrative divisions of the Indian district of Nicobar, part of the Indian union territory of Andaman and Nicobar Islands.

The study is the result of over 40 days of intensive fieldwork undertaken by AnSI researchers in the Great Nicobar Island. One of the most significant findings is that contrary to the earlier belief that Shompens are a homogeneous tribe, the study revealed that the group is heterogeneous with even differences in their dialect (the spoken language is known as Shompenese).
Terry Jordan Feb 3
Jordy does her yoga
Greets me smiling
Taking flight
Legs and arms akimbo
Picks the music
That she'd like
Yes she can be picky
She’s a Princess
No disguise
Keeps her posse jumping
When she flashes
Big brown eyes
Jordy, little sister
Halfway woman
Halfway child
Can be temperamental
Has a hissy
When she’s riled
She likes watching Ninjas
Leaping so high
Just like them
She has us all beguiled
Jordy Nicole
Never mild
She saw Ziggy Marley
At Sunfest
What a mob
Yet she prefers his father
The first Marley
She loves Bob
In honor of Jordy's 18th birthday, after doing yoga w me for many years to help w her cerebral palsy.
Broken promises left my focus anonymous til life sent its consequence
pretentious postures kept my thoughts unconscious
a prominence to be full of confidence
and an ominous apparel to your provenance,
your body language was taught differently than what I’ve heard
speaking in foreign words
from the painted nails to the forced curls
killing a canvas created for diamonds and pearls,

It's what the world prefers but love begs to disperse
but whats love to a lustful mind,
like obsessions are where your worth is clearly defined
your lust goes beyond approvals of mine
you need attention of those on the outside
like what I say can’t align with the amount of likes that they provide

I feel like I couldn’t matter less,
I'm a personal therapist who tries their best
who gets blamed for the things that cease to rest
who gets pushed under the bridge when things get stressed
you say you’re depressed but your sympathy for mine has digressed  
your symptoms are contagious when you tell me i'm selfish for wanting better than this
I'll remember to shut up next time I ask for happiness

Who you are to me isn’t the same as who you are to with anybody
you pick moods like they’re choices
like the person you’re around is what affects how your voice is
you never wanted happiness when I was in your presence
pity is what you love more than the betterment of our essence
putting you first is what benefitted

You is all that mattered
my heart was a broken platter
swept away by filters I held over
my mind felt shattered
my hopes and dreams clattered
the foreclosure of who I was for who you wanted me to be

My hearts in a different place now
my mind is full of spirits now
I lost who i was in an act to please you
I regret sacrificing myself for you
I hate the way things turned out but I'm learning who I am now
Im learning what it means to be me again and that’s something ill never give in

I hope no one has to experience the torments of losing self love again
This short story is a segment of my life, any questions? dm me!

if you enjoy my poems check me out on instagram @IsaiahChavezPoetry
Jayne E Jul 2
PRELUDE
_
[ I would engage but disengaged
enamoured masked fetid cage.
To sit spit splutter to cough it up
spit it all out
all over the pensive penners page
words turned **** fugly loves pup ]
__

Alla allua all al alala allis all is
Well that blends the well,
Wait! Wait!
(bit nipply in here)
nope that's not quite it, try,
All is ill that bends will..ok
One more go,
All is well that ends well
Right?   rite!  write? ok, ok,
this has been happenin for days,
pen sieves    
spent    
spinning lines
All over the place

Whirling dervishes spinning
fine
lines crossing,
sparkling,
in my kind mind,
finds the bind,
blinds, then unbinds
Better yet     Get    in     behind
(Aussie shepherds call out)
Oh holy ****
dressed up like a duck
Ok..I got this, really I do,
let's seem to find a seam take two,
better yet...
mark it...scene set & action!

Bn California dreamin
stealin,
creamn,
little kittys pretty
Vannah & Clementine
their morning rituals feeding lines
a ***** pushing
faucet fed H20
odd observations
one kink 4 kitty cat
prefers to take her water right on tap
still my keys go  
tap   tap   tap
Queen Vannah aloof saunters to lap
to sit to think,
not counter fed drink,
she's way too cool for school,
what were we talking about?
it gets little hard to think
you standing naked
smiling
by the kitchen sink

Ahhhhh...love..the emotions spout,
refer crazy prior lines
fed by loves fire,
tossing feelings
up,
down,
in and out,
twist it,
turn it, up, down
shake it out

there is love of lovers,
there is love of mothers,
there is love of others,
sisters, cousins, friends, brothers
those kind of others
the cliché would say...
"It finds you when you stop seeking"
or,
"expect it when you least expect it"
usually historically my reply maybe,
yawn -
mass conditioning speaking

funny tho how things work out,
how someone says
"how you feeling"
transmutes transcends
to not ok...
then,
just flat out ascends
to big bursting clouds  
bountiful love reeling in,
from a kind word uttered
love
begins,
again

the hearts flower slowly opens
it's the hope
love carries upon it's soft
scented breeze,
it's the joy
love communicates
whilst on her knees,
and the tenderness
felt between them
she, he, the we,
in the squeeze

bunches of fist clutched sheets
bitten lips my heartbeat
thundering in my head
language of panted moans
native to our bed
fingers pressed
the the back of your head
your features lost
between my legs


ahhhh, yes, yes, yes!
loves steady heartbeat
the     thrum    thrum      thrum
wondrous beating
upon loves drum,
and how each new fresh
transformative experience
of love
transcends the past,
as again we relish,
the skipped beats
warm moistened seats,
the play the foray
a new wave way

as sweetly tendered lovely love,
delivers up finely sublime
all soaked delicious
steeped in rhyme,
that elusive now found,
brighter sunny day.
so, to end, what of love?
well,
Id say,
let it play,
oh all for lovely love,
let it play!

J.C. honey-tiger 02/07/2019
Ok this is an edited added to, respaced rewrite...of an earlier piece.  It still may make no sense to anyone but me lol.
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