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Meredith Ann Jan 2019
Everything was always
In reverse with you
as you took all reason
and threw it away

I regret my ignorance every day.

But despite it all
here I am
listening to what memories of your presance tells me rather than my intuition
And even as I write this
Your hypnotic charm blurs my regret from miles away

And suddenly who I am is not as important as you.
Sometimes you like the idea of a person,
More than you ever liked them.
LJW Oct 2015
I say, "tell your story!"
No matter how many times it's been heard
Refuse the critics dogeared comments
about broken records,
get out of your rut,
let it go.

Our story is our pleasure
our experience of breath
Lived despite the presence
or non-presance of tragic moments.

Cut foot
bad catch
wrong number
missed bus

small instances of life:
lost job
low pay
Lonely Sundays
no friends.

Let me know, tell me each minute.
Share.
Sitting on a park bench
It was a lovely summer's day
The sound of all those seagulls
We were whiling the time Away.

The garden looked so peaceful
Everyone felt at ease
Relaxing laughing talking
Just a mile away from The sea.

It's name is palace gardens
And it dwells there in the park
It has a display of wonderful things
Like flowers and beautiful art,

It has a war memorial
Of soldiers who died in war
And has a certain atmosphere
One we've never felt before.

Maybe there's a presance of angels
It really feels seriel
If you were here with us
You would know just how we feel.

But nice things don't last forever
Soon it will be homeward bound
We truly had a lovely time
In the palace garden grounds.
Simple poem I wrote during a holiday. It was such a tranquil feeling we had sitting in this lovely park called the palace gardens
Feeling sad and small with tightly wound muscles, in balled fists
I lumber to the backyard.
The itch of my cage tickles the lungs as I slurp the cold march night.
My small yard hushes the creatures announcing my presance.
The wind tosses empty trees,
cracking the branches like drumsticks.
Above me the sky fully lit with the silvery lights,
stars so old they speak no words.

I find a small dim speck, precious.
I name her Sylvia, sweet Sylvia star.
I watch her twinkle, nestled in her corner of the sky, shinning.
Sylvia begins to swell with glow, and then slowly fade.
Her tiny sliver frame swallowed by the night.
Her long life burning out.
I smile up, silently thanking the universe for giving life.
as I smile at the star, sinking into the deepest pool,
the black well of Mother night.
Goodbye my star,
sleep tight.
“The night, like a well, was swallowing stars.”
The once green leaves that are no longer brown ,
hath stolen nature’s golden crown ,
Thrown in a grave ,
bound for hell ,
these are  my dreams I remember. So well .
O repentant soul ,
dragged and bound ,
Prepare for winter ,
Steal thy body ,and thy crown .
So take care in all you say and do ,
for no one will remember you.


For My soul is in ******* to my body now .

With heavy chains draped all around
It weeps and wails and keeps me awake ,
Thou Day was once carried.off by angels wings ,
In the days when we could laugh and sing .

And darkness like an army marches in
With snarls and teeth ,
that grind and grin
Which stalks and prowls ,
I feel it’s presance and it’s stare .
yet see it not
But  fear it just as it had lived ,
so beit thus.

For in darkness I shall lay ,
Untill the sea carry’s my bones away .
for I shall at least not see decay .
for I am glad of some small mercies .

swept away by youre handsome prince for
You shall not remember this
for love has its own destiny
and can never again be apart of me .
so when you lay befor3 the night ,
befor you even say “ good night ,
dream of waves washed up upon th3 shore
and you won’t think or dream of me
no more .

— The End —