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multi sumus Nov 2018 was the sun that was most honoured in that day, When it found itself glistening, Casting its light through Your auburn hair, It was only the strands that i saw but i knew it was You that very moment, Reaching so fervently for the book, All i could do was stand in amazement that before me stood the woman that i will spend the rest of my life with. i wanted to kiss You then but im sure that would have not been received as intended.
   Canvas back, i believe it was a 1954 copy, Due to its scent, First print of...i dont remember, i knew You had a tattoo but it couldnt be seen because of Your shirt length

   i want to tell You everything, how ive seen You not only in my dreams, But in visions , Temporary moments that i find myself lost in another place, Transported to the time when we are together.
   i am not who i need to be for You yet, Theres still much work to be done.  Not only to myself but also, i have not yet built Our home, i am preparing a place for Us that we can live in our own private world.
   In Love, True Love, The kinda love other people wished they had.
   i have sought You out, Astrologically speaking that is, Hence the Birthday wishes.
    i, i mean we, Will know when it is time when it is time.
   This is the first "letter" to You, my hopes are to continue doing so until i am granted the opportunity to speak with You in person.
      Have, Do, and Will, Love You for the full extent of my existence.

    i am grateful for Your birth, And look forward to celebrating its day for many years...together.
Until then my Love.
alexa Aug 2018
the coffee is warm
as it slides down my throat,
the heat spreading through my chest and
down to my stomach i know
the sun is rising somewhere up to my right,
amber rays hitting my hunched shoulders
and back,
but my mind is focused on the lines swirling in front of me,
words strung together just begging
to be said aloud,
letters floating all over the page until
they take the shape of
my best dream and worst nightmare,
my apologies and angry rants and
all the times i’ve fallen in love without reciprocation
and the boys i’ve hurt and people i never want to forgive.
i write about early morning sunrises
and late night stargazing
and all the feelings i’ve never felt,
strangers i’ve never kissed in
foreign streets but i know
one day these letters will float off the page,
take shape in
a little place called Reality...
but for now,
it’s just me,
the coffee,
and my poetry,
melding together under
the rising sun.
Donna Apr 28
Flowers always die
But it’s their beauty that makes
the world beautiful
:) don’t ever succumb to other people’s judgemental thoughts , rise above stay strong and be proud to be you :-)) xxxx
Accept this sunny morning
This soft sweet air
This quiet rustling
of leaves

This unkempt stallion
of dawn rising
my hands rubbing
my beard awake

I've held still so long
I am unseen
as the Robins land
to commence hunting

I am one of a trillion lives
in my back yard
for the grand opening
of this singular day

I think we are all cheering
for the lightness
come to touch our skin
as one
Eureka Merton Dec 2017
No thought can grasp this
ocean we enter
in Holy embrace

This Placeless place
echoes a memory,
unseen here, only Love
carried in waves of light.

Fingers soft as petals of Lilly
lifting into infinity, touching gently,
with the delicacy of a Lover
bound by Heart to the Beloved.

In Reverence you reach
to meet the unseen song of no-thing
as the One Heart opens, revealing
fragrance mimicing the fields of Heavens on High.

Sharing the feast of Heart
boundless, awake
waves of intoxicated bliss opening This
as He decends upon, as your lips.

Dancing under moonlight
no eyes can see
delighting in poem
no words can speak.

The ocean sings of Silence
to the ship longing for shore
washing away all sense
of "two", all need for "more".

We, ever becoming
take off on a star heading for Truth
and leave the sleeping and waking
to the dreamers.

The Lover's destiny
is the union Absolute,
following the inevitable, miraculous
disappearance of the universe.

Ocean and waves voyaged in Mind
become worldless Void
You and I,
Boundless, Unborn Love
Traveling the cosmic sea
Two become One
Lover and Beloved
Unborn love
A pinch of heaven is enough  
To fuel a life and if life shouts:
Soon I shall be no more-then
I shall consign myself to the
Deathless dreams of youth
Saying if leave I must let me
Embark upon the ship of sleep
For I cannot say it is over but
That I endeavor to reach that
Farther shore  where lie the
Isles of eternal spring that once
Made glad my young heart...
That I yet might call them my
True home.  For when all that's
proves itself mortal- what is not
Left was never left- shall be All
If fly we must to reach that Place-

On angel wings we shall

Fly like the seagull or frigate-

Bird.  We shall fly and  from


To sky  He shall show us ere we
Descend: Heaven.  For the small
Shall reign down, Can reign...
Cné Oct 2017
The surf provides lullabies
as ocean echoes roll.
Too soon, the sunlight glitters
as the dawn turns gray to gold.

I wake and I rub my eyes
beside the sandy beach
My love beside me, languid lips
within an easy reach.

I whisper, sweet good mornings
as your dreams I brush away.
You stretch and yawn, responding to
requests to "come and play".

Lingered memories caress,
of last night's rising moon
with silver waves and ripples,
beyond the dark lagoon.

In shades of colors that mix and smudge
you take your time, no rush
My ******* tingle, at the thought
upon my skin, spreads flush.

In reverie, flutters reminisce,
your wanton body on mine.
Whispered moans in my ear, you ******,
"I'm yours", I hear on rewind.
When last night's... turns into this morning's
Never made sense to me
that such a sublimely
uplifting state
like the blessing of love
should be considered
a fall
rather than
an ascension.
They Bombed our town.
And left it scattered
Our City destroyed
Our Windows shattered.
The plane's they came
Buildings start falling
People are lost
The injured are crawling.
Seems this is the price
For the victims of a war
Blowing up homes
Like never before.

Now all of a Sudden
That peaceful sound
A dove from above
No war to be found
This deadly time takes a turn
No more that dreaded sound.
Now we look to the future
With hopeful glee
And wish for that peace too stay
Let us wait we will see
Tomorrow is another day.
So as this war ends and passes
And again we will be free
To rise again from the ashes
A saddened price for victory.
When we look at all those towns and city's Bombed
And brought to ruin.It is almost like ä Miracle how they rise again
When wars come to an end.
Donna Aug 2018
makes me feel like **** , but I
shall rise above it
Sorry to use a swear word at times it just seems appropiate , anyway I too get negative thoughts at times,  I just can't help it but thankfully they not last too long anyway I find listening to music helps sooth and calm :) ah well it is what it is i rather stay true to myself so hence why I posted this one  :-)
Also when u do get negative thoughts try not to be to ******* yourself x
Take care all ***
Omi Mar 8
Am I too late my love?
Eyes fixated on me
She stares piercingly into my soul.

She hums,
with sorrow in her eyes.
My heart starts to bleed
Can’t she see my aching heart?

Ok. take my soul
So I am nothing but flesh and bones
Just don’t leave me in this lonely lustful sphere.

Now she screams
Next, she weeps
Why does she weep?
I am finding it hard to breathe
Why can’t I breathe?

Please, just say something before
I drown in my thoughts.
As I attempt to touch her;
they laugh.

O' mother
I see now 
They surround me
My demons.

but it's no use,
now that I'm dead.
Aurelia Ward Oct 2018
The rising sun has just begun
Tainted by memories of the setting one

The day is fresh but to start anew
would be to forget, momentarily, you

That would be bliss, to not think of your face
For me to say that, some think a disgrace,

But it's not that I hate you, in fact I adore
The way I beat you yet you crawl back for more
For Aaron
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Smouldering moon over fallen dark embers—
fragments rising in corkscrew red-gold rhythms
Adilson Smith Nov 2017
I would say
I love you with all my heart.

But that's not quite right.

For I love you with far much more
Than just that one part.

For instance,
I love you with my lips:
They pucker lovingly like filled balloons
Rising skyward in a knot.

I love you also
With my eyes. Like a ruly clerk,
They sieve your frame with careful affection,
Vitalized by every detail.

My ears, too, are full of love.
I can feel them during the night;
Thumping with blood
As you rise and decline
Asleep in my nook.

There are many others.
My eyebrows, so enlivened,
Agitate my face
And my toes, so excited,
Tense in my shoes
As though afraid of getting wet.

Other parts aren’t so conspicuous.
My arms plot in the dark --
They long to swim around your waist
And link us back to breast.

And my fingers, naughty things,
Scheme to tease your dress
Above your pretty knees
And above your pretty chest.

Would you believe,
Even my ****'s involved!
Though he’s more obvious
With his *****, open smile
And cheeky morning breath.

But chief of all my loving parts
Is my un-run soul
Unkenneled, at last,
Sprinting furiously
Next to yours.
# love #silly

Note -- this is very much a rewrite of Watsky's splendid and original "love poem" (worth checking out on YouTube).
Woody Jul 2018
I’m old enough to remember when
coyotes all lived west of Memphis,
Tennessee, and the sheep ranchers in
Skull Valley, Utah, still paid a twenty
dollar bounty for a perfectly matched
pair of ears, not that I ever shot at any
of the gods’ four-legged creatures, but
by god, those two-legged primates with opposable thumbs that shot at me, I sure as hell shot back, (although counting
coup by taking two ears that walked on two legs was frowned upon, even then,
as far back as I went, by Generals and
the public in general, I think), anyway,
the point I was trying to make is just this: just when and why and how(l) did the coyotes decide to cross the mighty Mississipp into Memphis as I mentioned sometime back before I digressed about the opposable thumbs and guns and counting coup and such ridiculousness, but still, the question remains and I’m quite perplexed about the spread of four-legged varmints more-so than the two-
legged illegal aliens in search of safer harbors and their children, caged up like so much vermin and varmints that Trump
and his angry too much Mussolini in his heart and hair, his hateful MAGA red-hatted, conceal-carry permitted redneck backers, Putin and his Russian hackers, and here I go again, oh boy, I swear I only wanted to know if coyotes spread so far east to howl at a new moon rising out of the Atlantic, and if they sought asylum, would Trump separate the pups from their Moms and Pops or build a wall along the Arkansas side of the mighty Mississippi, while I listen to those dreaming coyotes howl and call out to a new moon rising
up and out of my Atlantic like a welcoming sign for all coyotes to come and sit high on the dunes waiting and watching for a compassionate new moon shining free?
Oh, ccome on. Even if you’re totally ambivalent, or gods forbid, for Trump, can’t y’all at lest find some humor in these not so harmonious times?
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
Summer morning -
pink jets of clouds
splash out
from the golden well of the east
falling just short
of an ebbing moon.

Streams of swallows
flutter and glide
over the garden -
they are all flying
in the same direction
as if erupting

from the sun’s waking pulse.
Just for a moment
one of the birds hangs
perfectly still -
like the top-most drop of water
from a fountain before it turns

to face the glittering pool.
Beneath them all
the hummingbird
makes her rounds
and a dove scratches the earth
below the feeder

keeping an wary eye
on the scribbling intruder.
So many summer mornings -
too many summer mornings
I have wasted
worrying about the world

and my place in it –
absent from my own body
and breath
the cage of my ribs
rising, falling, and pausing
without me. Meanwhile,

another swallow
stills her wings.
Buoyed by an unseen breeze
she is both feathered sail
and cresting wave as she slices
over my shoulder bearing west.

Tom Spencer © 2015
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned,
accidentally angled just so, lol,
her image transported from living room to dining alcove
all the way to the kitchen’s bleacher seats

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m swelling and

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
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