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"stopover" poems
I don't know you anymore, ever since that staycation with your Beloved. You were the only one who held my heart and brain in your pearly, white palm. Now it's stained brown from the endless supply of caffeine and mugs. What about the scars on my back (from my travels to many places) that you and only you saw? I can't help but wonder over the picture you have of me if they now rest in a new rucksack. My soul, is now in your little backpack where everyone else lie in. Tell me, where did you travel to and what happened? Did the airlines lose your culture and replace it with a complimentary substitute? You've lost the identity for which I came to know you of. May this just be a stopover.
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Are We in Free Fall?
in this world the drums of scrap steps leading CIA man nodded neutralize it. "So we understand yes?" "Fascinating." massacre Understood? Saddam Hussein On her next stopover in Basra black-Nigel, came kissing?
0
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
FORSYTH
The wetland is in its daylight beauty the calm water mirrors the still blue sky upon the pond among reeds and cattails are two elegant, wild white swans mysterious and graceful, reflecting the charm of Thailand and her people
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Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
A Stopover
pressed against the cold bricks outside the church, she smiles around your lips, her breath harsh on your face, her scent compelling you with want; you ravish her mouth, thinking that maybe if you went deep enough, you could stay inside her forever. the drizzle comes to a stop, and you hear nothing but the pastor saying: *Refrain from sin, and He will let you in His Kingdom*!
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Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 6:41 AM UTC
stopover
I'm just a stopover For you to relax in You read your book on the train You hear the songs of longing Overlooking the window I'm just a stopover On your long journey You put your head on my chest And your head is full of her You take my heart, and your heart is hers I'm just a stopover Just a passing song That you forget the words to You stutter my name, and call me by hers I planted a garden Filled with love But you gave it back And turned to a single rose She gave to you She, whom you want She, who does not want you You run after her like a stray dog Begging for affection Happy for a piece of bread that she gives to you Waiting for a word from her And ignoring the songs I wrote for you I'm just a stopover She is your stray road Your final destination A deserted city And there you are, On the ruins crying The house I built for you is abandoned My poor heart is abandoned Which burns when I see your eyes when you look at her When I see you are still hugging her clothes I remained silent As I have sworn not to talk I swore not to mention her I swore that I’ll bite my tongue, swallow my pride and my fear And you swore to yourself That you will always be hers Even if she’s not yours Even if I gave you all of me.
0
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Houses made out of clay
It was a cold night, I was coming home, And I didn't inform her, As I wanted it to be a surprise. War was over and I was going home, The terrorists had been terminated. I had stopover en route, At a distant town I paused, Famous for its winery, I had got the finest *** For both me & my wife. Obstructed en route by a blizzard, I thought about my wife at home. Waiting for the way to be cleared, I slept because I felt so very tired. A dream sequence started, It was so bright and warm. I was basking in the Sun, My wife accompanied me. Holding hands we're in the backyard, Not a cloth shielded us from the Sun. Composing poems we were, Warm and hot ones as well. I had said: ***"Oh my honeybunch, My buttercup, I love you, From the core, Of my purest heart."*** She had replied: ***"Oh my sweetiepie, My bigger baby, I love you too, From my heart, And even my body."*** But then the dream ended, They had cleared the road. The driver again started driving, At a slow speed fit only for snails, Still my rifle rattled inside the bad. Now I reached my town, I expected her in nightgown, In the velvety green one she had. Edging closer on foot to my home, I observe incandescence in the hall, Glimmering through the curtains, I thought she was waiting for me, Basking in the heat of the fireplace, After a tiring day's work at the office, She should have slept peacefully, But here she was, I thought, Waiting for her man to be back, From the neighbouring state's capital. With these positive thoughts on my mind, I parried forwards in the snow, And I thought I'd surprise her, Telling that my work was done, Earlier, much earlier than I had expected. I produced my copy of the key, And silently opened the door, But then I heard some sounds. Totally unexpected sounds, Like the intimate ones in bed, I wanted it to be some teleseries, But then I noticed an overcoat, And a pair of oversized boots, Neither the overcoat belonged to me, Nor the huge gumboots were mine. It dawned upon me, My wife had been cheating, She was in the hall, The indecent incandescence, With the noises of it, Filled the home after issuing, From the main hall. I immediately stepped back, Closing the door silently behind me, Then I went to the bus stop. I entered the lodge nearby, Took the bottle of *** out, Drank it full slowly but surely, Then I took the gun out, Sank the *** in & pulled the trigger, BANG!!! The bullet dug under my chin, It pierced me through my head, Shattering the lamp overhead.
0
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 11:40 PM UTC
Indecent Incandescence
It was a cold night, I was coming home, And I didn't inform her, As I wanted it to be a surprise. War was over and I was going home, The terrorists had been terminated. I had stopover en route, At a distant town I paused, Famous for its winery, I had got the finest *** For both me & my wife. Obstructed en route by a blizzard, I thought about my wife at home. Waiting for the way to be cleared, I slept because I felt so very tired. A dream sequence started, It was so bright and warm. I was basking in the Sun, My wife accompanied me. Holding hands we're in the backyard, Not a cloth shielded us from the Sun. Composing poems we were, Warm and hot ones as well. I had said: ***"Oh my honeybunch, My buttercup, I love you, From the core, Of my purest heart."*** She had replied: ***"Oh my sweetiepie, My bigger baby, I love you too, From my heart, And even my body."*** But then the dream ended, They had cleared the road. The driver again started driving, At a slow speed fit only for snails, Still my rifle rattled inside the bad. Now I reached my town, I expected her in nightgown, In the velvety green one she had. Edging closer on foot to my home, I observe incandescence in the hall, Glimmering through the curtains, I thought she was waiting for me, Basking in the heat of the fireplace, After a tiring day's work at the office, She should have slept peacefully, But here she was, I thought, Waiting for her man to be back, From the neighbouring state's capital. With these positive thoughts on my mind, I parried forwards in the snow, And I thought I'd surprise her, Telling that my work was done, Earlier, much earlier than I had expected. I produced my copy of the key, And silently opened the door, But then I heard some sounds. Totally unexpected sounds, Like the intimate ones in bed, I wanted it to be some teleseries, But then I noticed an overcoat, And a pair of oversized boots, Neither the overcoat belonged to me, Nor the huge gumboots were mine. It dawned upon me, My wife had been cheating, She was in the hall, The indecent incandescence, With the noises of it, Filled the home after issuing, From the main hall. I immediately stepped back, Closing the door silently behind me, Then I went to the bus stop. I entered the lodge nearby, Took the bottle of *** out, Drank it full slowly but surely, Then I took the gun out, Sank the *** in & pulled the trigger, BANG!!! The bullet dug under my chin, It pierced me through my head, Shattering the lamp overhead.
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easy now saddle worn speak rain on the wind drops me here amber stone earrings stopover deal downpour delivery secret stories flight rattling rot release worm chirping ooze foster a feeling foreign delight
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
walkabout.99
In a space of one day I saw two off duty ex- air stewardesses who could have only flown in 1976 when blondes and JPS's really rode the Skies, but at 14 your  unwittingly waiting, since then I have never framed it for myself.
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Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 5:56 PM UTC
BA 1976 stopover
I'm too small As small as a dot on the crumpled paper I'm just one of thousands Even invisible in this cruel world Sheltered in a narrow and thin shells Hiding behind the leaves which begin to change color My first house finally I was born as something strange I'm the ugly My body covered with bristle Feebly crawling along a twig Gnaw the leaves around and make holes Run away from the birds Grappling with weaver ants Makes me fell to the ground until my bristle loss Only worm greets They hate me so I could get killed, not all of them accept until I'm stuck in another dimension I'm the lonely hiding caterpillars Imprisoned inside a small obsolete pouch Trying to **** time Struggling in the darkness to reach beauty That's enough of this stopover wade through the rigors of the long wait that handcuff I was reborn being different and they like me Abundant happiness arrives fly indefinitely with both my beautiful wings I can go to wonderful place that I want penetrate malignancy
0
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
Metamorphose
i will find you overdressed i was up and i looked out the window i imagined i knew no one in the echo the noise opened its grimy, dark quarters then a break, a mere stopover i can remember what we did on each and every one of those fifteen days and nights.
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Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
words found on paper
I'm too small As small as a dot on the crumpled paper I'm just one of thousands Even invisible in this cruel world Sheltered in a narrow and thin shells Hiding behind the leaves which begin to change color My first house finally I was born as something strange I'm the ugly My body covered with bristle Feebly crawling along a twig Gnaw the leaves around and make holes Run away from the birds Grappling with weaver ants Makes me fell to the ground Until my bristle loss and scattered Only a worm greets They hate me so I could get killed, not all of them accept until I'm stuck in another dimension I'm the lonely hiding caterpillars Imprisoned inside a small obsolete pouch Trying to **** time Struggling in the darkness to reach beauty That's enough of this stopover wade through the rigors of the long wait that handcuff I was reborn being different and they like me Abundant happiness arrives fly indefinitely with both my beautiful wings penetrate malignancy to explore the horizon
0
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
Metemorphose
you are a traveler it was winter where you were you were alone surrounded by nothing but coldness, loneliness, darkness i took you in maybe it was your (sad) eyes or the way you moved but i took you in i gave you shelter but in time i wanted to give you everything warmth, love, care (shelter for your heart) you became stronger and got back on your feet but i became weaker the way my knees would buckle listening to your laughter and one day you told me you loved me and i believed you as fast as when you left the very next day and now i am stuck at home alone once again but i forgot how to live on my own and all i remember is the way your hand felt in mine because you are a traveler and i forgot that i was no different than just another stopover that "stay" wasn't a word in your dictionary and all I could do is survive the storm raging inside that you left behind ever since you left
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
traveler
They say You can’t make homes out of human beings But I made one out of you All those 3am conversations Thinking you felt the same way too I dug myself a hole And knew eventually I’d fall in too deep In the end I found myself buried Under your lies and deceit They say Play with fire and you’ll get burned A moth to a flame, I was to you You led me on with burning desire To a path all bent askew Then the light left your eyes Conversations ran dry She came back And I knew you would leave Right then and there I felt your goodbye They say You can’t make homes out of human beings And I made one out of you But I was just a stopover On your journey to someplace new
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Stopover
A little lassie constantly wanted to shoot for the sky Tasting the silver lining was the only thing on her mind The notion excited her soul when she gazed him in her funny books On Christmas Eve the secret Santa made her wish come true For the first time, the red cape with her initials graved lifted her spirits high All her attempts were to impersonate him from dusk to dawn running around Just like SUPERMAN she flaunted her red cape desired to jump high As she aged, his posters covered her block her time was invested in gathering his articles Now she wanted to be with him forevermore As the idea was absurd she outset to look for his double the one who would own her globe and abide to shield it The one in red cape and krypton afraid was nowhere to be seen The exploration came to an end when she realized that the SUPERMAN she was looking must be on another planet Trying to save his dying Krypton unaware about her existence But she decided to rest ... perhaps someday her Superman will stopover his new cosmos
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
SUPERMAN
Sometimes I miss him There are times I don’t. Like random flu shots, Like a stopover down the road. I’m not all over him - Clearly no desperate longing At any angle for his somber, dark eyes Nor enigmatic smile. Though I do admit - Gaps of the day, I use to fantasize Ever allured by the curves of his body Tenderly lulled by his mellow voice - On my knees, I am hypnotized. Visualizing the way he brushes his fingers Eminently against my back. Rejuvenating - it sends chills down my spine, Yes, my spirit’s taken aback. Oh, I’m in denial but if truth be told, Unravel the message… Read the first letters of every line and unfold.
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May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
hidden message
at night sacred dark setting in between the sheets i crawl fingers seeking out pleasure i lapse past times an enemy this body was sensation, undefined and improper a shame i cry afterwards the pleasure fleeting, my heart remorseful remember, i demand those last hands hungry they were, owned, not yours another's there was no breath only suspension a time-lapse a stopover tired a bud that has forgotten the bee's sting i swell, my mind a swirl vivify, vivify, vivify, harder breathe
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
touch
Making a stopover at the Bow flyover finding a place for the night a wooden seat to perch on next to the church on Mile End road. This may be a blessing but God keeps me guessing and I feel I'm no nearer to him or to thee whomsoever him or thee may be. Next to the gravestones which are weather worn and grey ( say! I look the same) I am but a name in the register to be struck out as I struck out When your luck's out life ***** I only draw in a breath for death to draw closer to me I want to see it coming. God and his crew always know what to do and send the sunlight to heal all my woes I take to my toes and leave Bow far behind me and am sure that god knows if he wants where to find me or I may find myself.
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Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
Dilution Dave
There was love here before. Some animal on a plank. Didn't hold for very long. Rain came often. No one saw. Puddles formed and dried at the same times. Because there was no Occurring. A restaurant chain had opened up a franchise in a stopover, alcoved by gasoline parkways, sheeted in neon. I found it that night on my way. Great food. Great place. A time to **** Strangers cast curious smiles. Some ask questions about where you're headed. I wish we knew when small talk butterflies into big talk. Then we can know. This is serious. Someone will learn and, if I'm lucky, try on my plans if it fits. The air conditioning whistles and howls. Some stereo sounds: a horror show about doctors malpracticing in purpose. Gore gore gore. Filthy good. Feel cranked. I walk to my jacket and open the door, sounding the bell. Night greets me back its smells. Menthol and **** I am headed north. But this was great. Nice time. Cheers? Cheers.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
The Diner
Things are supposed to matter You take comfort in your own company Lying with yourself of the want to belong When really all there is Are miles of fresh air From the distance you have driven
0
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 5:34 AM UTC
Stopover