"thumps" poems
I might be dying.
I don't know yet.
The doctors are still deciding
if I will meet Death.
I can feel
all the weird thumps.
I just don't know...
I'm in a slump.
The doctors have done the tests,
but no one knows yet.
Am I the subject of a pest,
or a huge destructive mess?
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
The snow glimmers like diamonds, each falling flake sparkling in its own array of prismatic colors. The sky, clear and blue, is sprinkled with these small gems.
breathe in.
The air is cool and crisp, stinging her nose on every intake, but filling her lungs with clean fresh air.
breathe out.
Little puffs of steam flow from her mouth and into the world, each little droplet tumbling over another as they scramble to explore this new universe, until they vanish completely from sight.
breathe in.
The soft breeze drifts carelessly over the snow, leaving an icy touch in its wake.
breathe out.
The thumps of her heart increase and fill her ears as she approaches the gate.
breathe in.
The thumps become steady, a rhythmic beat to keep the time.
breathe out.
Three. The hand goes up.
breathe in.
Two.
silence.
One. It drops.
breathe out
She is gone.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Like a male monkey you rises up
And thumps hard your chest-it is you and you only!
O Man! You forgets, who you are and what you are is Nature’s
She generously gives and she avariciously takes-
Just a few chances she is giving you to repent before she ruthlessly returns
She is a sharp, doubled edged sword-merciful and merciless!
Man, Humanity is not hostility: Humanity is humility!
Like Sheol that is never satisfied you want to swallow the whole world
Like death you want to take everything, big-small-you want to stomach all
Everything you want to keep to yourself, to be to your entitlements
You take and leave nothing at all for the harmless hopeless-the voiceless
Yet you easily forgets, when the angel of death calls it’s only you and your soul in burials
Your ill amassed pride, wealth and health is not with you anywhere in this your brutal trials
Man, Humanity is not gullibility: Humanity is generosity!
O man! O man! You fills the whole world with mortality
You have killed the sole essence of the soul’s endless immortality
With your undignified dishonesty, your free-will to filthy immorality
War you begins wealthy to get-war is a supernormal profiting business
Man, Humanity souls has never been subjects to severity but sanctity!
Innocent-as little as little children-you murders-they were inevitable!
Common civilians’ deaths are collateral damages-inescapable!
You forgets who you are-you are a little loaned, little you returns for judgment
Here no allies to look after your backs, no cracks to corruption kickbacks-
It is the fairest of all hearings, a ***** for a ***** it is not for a big spoon!
Man, Humanity is not ignobility: Humanity is dignity!
What you are given to govern you governs not
What you are given to take care of you pilfers all
For you and your lineages eternal legacies-the richest ever to have graced the earth!
Yet you forgets, Master a little while returns to put you to a rigorous account
And whoever much is given-that much is also expected, what will be your report?
Man, Humanity is not royalty: Humanity is loyalty!
Humanity is a community, not a sorority of individuality!
Humanity is not infidelity: Humanity is honesty
Humanity is not how wealthy: Humanity is how a loyal legacy
Humanity is not how large is your multinationals entity:
Humanity is how huge is your small heart-its hospitality
Humanity is a humble history, a saintly story!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
Packed like sardines
inside a jeepney—
Too full,
with a jeepney strike going on.
Rushing,
mother and child ride along.
Greasy, ***** malnourished…
The woman holds a can—
a makeshift drum.
Little boy hands out envelopes,
he looks like he's 3 years old,
he's most likely 6.
Woman beats her drum,
nobody listens
chatter drowning out the rhythm…
Invisible ears to go with
invisible envelopes
His head touches my legs,
dissipating heat—
an indicator of how long
he's been under the sun and smog
The thought chills me…
He stares at my sister's shopping bags
with searing eyes…
Windows that I can’t bear to look into,
afraid to see my reflection of clouded guilt and frustration
I shake my head, no food to share
but my hands reach out to his,
to give him some money.
My sister remembers a bottle of iced tea,
and hands it to him.
He has a hard time opening it,
and asks for help from the school girls…
Invisible again.
I reach out and get the bottle from him
Temporary refreshment
for a body that is parched,
for a soul who is thirsty for so much more.
I cannot help but gulp in guilty air.
He sits on the aisle,
savoring the tea
as his mother thumps on the can.
The little boy retrieves envelopes, all empty—
as hollow as the sound of the beating drum.
What do you do,
what can you do?
The jeepney stops.
They alight from it...
The mother looks back
and says, "Salamat."
It goes straight to my heart.
Her eyes move me most—
one eye is cloudy, grayed out,
perhaps a manifestation
of the storms in her life?
That single word seared through me,
and I felt how much she meant it…
Her thank you
made me want to give so much more,
to call out to her and give whatever I had at the moment
but they are gone...
Lost in a crowd of faceless people,
and I myself want to get lost,
hide my face in shame…
What can you do?
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
Lend me your eyes.
So I could fill them
with the bursting stars.
Telling tales of the spellbinding universe,
singing songs of exploding suns...
and of splintering quasars.
Lend me your thoughts.
So that if I may,
write of them.
Fantastical scribbles of love
and praise.
Meticulously lined
and carefully stitched...
with immaculate lace at the hems.
Lend me your breaths.
I'd catch them as they fall...
between the words you would say.
Merging mine with yours...
introducing colour...
and vigour
to my monochromatic world of
black, white and grey.
Lend me your heartbeats...
for mine thumps erratic.
As if beating in silent mock.
I depend on the steadiness in yours.
So they could usurp
the ticks of worldly clocks.
Lend me your hands.
Palms up as a sign,
perhaps as an invitation...
for me to take them.
And maybe...
hopefully fill them...
with mine...
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Sometimes in the mountains
On a wall up in the sky
I hear music
It’s not the wind through trees
Or falling rocks
(Those these chime in
From time to time)
But within my chest
My heartbeat thumps
My breath
Floats to my ears
A song you sang
I can’t recall
Is sung again
In me
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
With narrowed eyes
I glare out the window
Ridiculed
by the harsh beams of light
that glare back at me.
My ankles fidget
Shoulders lean forward
to see the unknowing plane
fly innocently overhead
and my bike
leaning unforgotten
against the rotting fence.
I stumble back
Spinning
In a whirring machine
that screeches and shudders
and thumps on the door
Can I come in?
Worried eyes flit my way
Take it easy
Like a fragile possession
Teetering on the edge
Crowds gather to catch
My faults
With walls binding me
I take comfort in darkness
It soothes my body
and warms my tears
but nourishes my fears
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
She made me dance
till I sweat my soul out
on the crowd, the girl
in the tight dress with legs
up to heaven and back
put her hands on my tired shoulders
She made me laugh out my
heart, across the lights and bass
thumps that rattled my rib cage
while the music played
and the friends on my arms
held me up to heaven and back
with their helping grins
She made me happy as
I sang my lungs out with
a fox lady whose nails
scratched sweet life all over my
back and I fell in love
I fell in love with the way
She made me dance
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
The music thumps, the walls jump,
she pole dances against the jamb.
Dust rag in her right.
polish in her left hand.
House is hers for a few hours
to fulfill a fantasy.
Bump and grind it babe,
the vacumn whiiiirrrs away.
Shake that ***** strut that stuff,
transfer clothes in washer to dryer.
Wearing faded blue jeans,
kick that leg up higher.
Beds are made, bunnies dusted,
she cat walks looking demure.
Practices a sultry pout,
wiping spots from the mirror.
Work the shoulders, drop to a deep squa,t
then stick the **** up in the air.
Family is due home very soon,
straighten her clothing with care.
Greet the kids with hugs, husband with kisses,
getting dinner to the table.
While news plays in the background,
her life is happy, solid and stable.
Dishes washed, kids off to sleep,
taking my husband by the hand,
this housewife leads him to our room,
where her stripper soul takes command
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 10:31 AM UTC
Often times I’m staring
Awing in the curves of full blooming lips
Carved jawbone covered with deepening dark moss
The journey through the damp forest after warm rain
It is all awake alive and breathing clearly
Rising and falling like the rare drops from deciduous leaves
I cannot tell you how inhuman you feel to me
Your skin darkens around your eyes from nights up
Long evenings too many and whiskey that never even made it to a cup
Sometimes I cannot break a gaze from the casement around your pupil
The pools of honey drip further toward me
My feet find it impossible to remove themselves
So much like quicksand but sweet calming and warm
Smooth and simplistic in youth the way skin drapes
Hangs over structured bones in the most phenomenal way
Just as your eyes are lavished in graham brown
You stay glowing even in the cold weather from blessed ancestry
Down to tender arteries and muscle where I’ve placed lips a thousand times
Shoulders swoop outwards like broad boulders
Distinguishable markers play connect the dots toward inked surfaced skin
Permanence of scarred lines forming a hot air balloon and anchor pulling it down
It’s from your favorite band, I’m noticing synapses collide on the concept
Elongated extended vines lead to tools that hold and create masterpieces
Strong slender hands with fingertips that press and pluck strings
Coat themselves with paint on late evening or early mornings
Tread lightly on my skin and illuminate my face with a coaxing touch
You are the rain forest from sunrise
My heart thumps to the sense of danger behind a corner
But I know such things and if they were to **** me,
I would be treasured in becoming a tall Kapok
With roots buried miles deep
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
they say that when
the chain of your necklace is twisted
it means someone is thinking about you
well, you must think of me often
i constantly fix it
back into a straight line
as i daydream of you
my heart beats
silent, deafening thumps
that spell out your name
i would stand my ground
but it is rather difficult
when i keep falling for you
and until the day i saw you
and felt that wonderful warmth
of you beside me
i hadn't quite realized
just how small my hands were
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
He started feeling sorry for himself
long before he had seen his reflection
in shimmery linoleum tiles
that stretched into blind corners
before the snap of magnetic doors
woke melancholy macaroni people
strapped to rolling recliners
staring past Plexiglas TV's
He wore yesterday on his shirt
a step at a time...
one two, one two
felt breaths collectively stop
when he walked the halls...
one two, one two
like watching a one legged cricket
with your hand over your mouth
As cold as this place was
his head had been on fire
slammed into paper cups
filled with pastel colored
blues and pinks and
why pills
rattled at him like a baby
He fell face first into tomorrows
slobbered on wooden spoons
for vanilla ice cream
that he said tasted like Wednesday
He would get animated
when they ran out of Wednesday
and had many rattle cup nights
****** up through a syringe
hands and thumps
pressed him up against
heavy beds of oak bolted to the floor
gloves pulled his hair
when he smelled like yelling
into plastic mattresses
the same color as his *****
and no one wants him *******
while their eyes are closed
they want to see it
they want to say things like
"we'll talk about this later"
wrap his wrists in sheep's wool, in skin
from his ******* clasped by buckles, pulled
tight enough to close his eyes
He should have **** his pants
because chocolate doesn't have a taste
and neither did feeling sorry for himself
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
The music itself thumps in my chest
My body moves all on its own
My hips sway against yours
we swing our heads in rhythm
For in the moment
when a band takes the stage
we all become the same
united under a song
I believe this would be
a perfect movie moment
with you and I as the stars
Our own little montage
Because in this moment
I can feel your heat
We are one in the same
Our souls entwined in the song
We have to shout into each others ears
to have a conversation
though many words aren't needed
Our bodies do the talking
I guess this is what it means
to feel accepted, in love, perfect
because I can't imagine myself
dancing to this song,
with anyone else
but you
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
'A triangle on the mount of mercury
is certainly an auspicious sign'
Thumping percussion of a native beat
in my head, a gyrating hindsight
The evening streams down pouring
streaks of grey and mangled orange
Walking past a bicycle chained to railings
front wheel mangled into a rough square
Squaring a circle, huh? How did that happen?
two thumps and a sonant beat...and again...
I see you sipping latte by Nero.
Mangled, stream out of your eyes
many coloured triangles
rushing, wheeling at me.
Vibrant beat, gyrating bottoms.
The mercury is soaring. Ululations.
The night-witch has charmed the city in her cloak.
Stars, oh, I see mangled triangles out of her hat.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
I think
moss is growing,
webs are forming,
poison ivy is creeping,
weeds are sprouting,
willows are weeping,
inside my chest.
I can hear the echo
of a tiny,
wavering voice,
calling down the
wishing well cavern
inside my rib cage.
"Help me..."
"Don't forget me..."
My shriveled,
weary heart
thumps
and
drums
feebly against my flesh,
crying out for attention,
creating tremors,
earthquakes,
in my overgrown,
suffocating,
internal garden.
The ripples,
in the pools resting on my chest,
tell me
"You're still there."
"Don't give up."
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
At least three times a week
Thumps, bangs, a loud crash,
Doors slamming, metallic echoes,
Bumps, thuds, sharp edges, smash
I hear shouting, muffled, no words,
His voice booms and beats against the walls.
Hushed stillness after, as i wait to hear him slam out
Clattering feet on the stair to the street
Airless, exhausted relief as they fade.
Everything echoes in empty impersonal corridors
Magnolia walls, polished floors, plain blank doors.
The room behind one containing locked fear and silence.
I sense it there
Hear it breath through the walls
It enters my room, far more than the noise
A pounding, held in fear
So loud that it keeps me awake
As I listen, long after.
Next morning, so aware of silence,
When I hear a sound near my door
I jump, as alert as a hunted animal.
I hear her heart clench
So linked to this stranger by sounds
Though I have never imagined her face
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
Last night Gary Facebooked me:
11:03 PM
"Can I ask you to be crazy with me?"
Gary said he had been flirting with this girl, May
for six months.
She wanted to see him in person tonight,
And he needed a ride.
Gary and I met 11 days ago.
Strangers brought together in the streets of Freeport by pokemon GO.
he spotted me holding my phone out from a mile away.
"Team Instinct?
TEAM INSTINCT!"
Lightning cracked above us
as we cryed in harmony:
"THERE IS NO SHELTER FROM THE STORM!"
My knowledge of him consists of three things.
1. He works as a security guard
Is first responder for medical emergency
Tackles felons and escorts people with restraining orders.
plays it up like he's a security guard for something mysterious
He is a security guard for Wal-mart.
2. Gary buys peoples affection.
Throws his money aimlessly
Pointing at his trophies
Prooving he too is expensive
3. To Gary,
there is nothing better to do
from 12 - 5am
Than wander Looking for pikachu.
With me.
besides visiting this May.
"A taxi would be $80
but I'd rather pay that to you, Bro."
On the drive there,
He is Squeeing, Singing,
Flipping out.
"I've got knots in my stomach Bro."
Upon arrival,
He readily jumps from my car
"Go catch 'em Brock" I say.
When I get back to Freeport
he sends me a messege.
1:04 AM
"Dude.
I think she fell asleep waiting
I'm not inside yet."
I park my car in Freeport,
Finish catching a Weedle.
"I'm on my way, stay safe."
"Man I'm so down."
"She's not coming to the door Nick."
"I'm just gonna curl up on the ground and cry."
"I've called her 24 times"
He heavily thumps his backpack into my backseat
Slumps down into my car.
"There is"
"no shelter"
"From"
"the storm"
"In my heart."
We stare out the window.
At the two homeless men
With no teeth
That he didn't beat.
He's holding night vision binoculars
And a clean Knife.
"I'm sorry I got you involved, Nick
I asked you to be crazy with me."
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
Some people die in Texas.
Some people die in Spain.
Some people die in their sleep.
Some people die in pain.
We were all in love with trauma.
We were all in love with the same
ideas we projected onto people
and disguised with their name.
I don't live in nine-eleven-land
and neither do my peers.
I've been monitored by other people's Gods
for twenty-two ******* years.
Coffee pots and cigarettes
stimulate my day
and keep the thoughts streaming,
that eventually fade away.
Some people die in Utah.
Some people die in Prague.
Some people never get married
or have the family dog.
We were all in love with status.
We were all in love with goals
that would make life poignant
and make ourselves whole.
I don't subscribe to the thought
that my thoughts necessarily matter.
If life is a horror movie,
then I'm the fake blood splatter.
Bible thumps and dead eyes,
are all part of my design,
and how I live and where I die
means to separate my mind.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Mysterious Night
Come look on vistas ever sweeping the hills a maiden walks in white she seems to create
Greater light follow her into the night where fire flies is her crown and lights up her curvaceous gown
And the gentle dawn she breaks by her sleepy eyes that causes the heart to be the only sound that is
Heard as it thumps with approval add a touch of dew to her hair if you dare a swaying week kneed man
Isn’t the most attractive sight but what can be when you’re caught in the awe of such loveliness like the
Current of the Seine just turn on the Paris lights stroll the west end the glow from the shop windows
Adds to the flow mix it with jasmine and here the slow expressive violin drift along the empty street
Its heaven coursing stop the carriage driver it is the perfect night for a carriage ride in the park
Somewhere as you listen to the clip clop of the horse’s hooves you are transported to the sea coast
Of ole Monterey out at the point of the peninsula the mighty waves crash over the rocks in the
Moonlight the night does speak with wondrous overtures love is the thrill that covers all the land
Mermaids sing from the hidden mysterious places that they alone know and then all the picturesque
Vivid images end alas it was just a lovely dream if so why do I still smell the Jasmine and a perfume that
is only sold in Paris
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
**I'm sitting on the edge
of my bed, trembling and**
flash [I'm huddled in the
kitchen corner, she's
advancing on me, blocking
every way of escape]
**wishing I could be ok again, wishing
I wasn't damaged beyond**
flash [I'm on the
stairs, crouched over so
she can't reach my
stomach because I'm already
crying hard enough to almost
be throwing up, gagging
around screams]
**any kind of repair that I
can foresee, praying that**
flash [I'm curled on my bed like
a foetus, I ran away until
there was no further
to run and still
she followed me. Hit
my back, it hurts
the least there]
**the terror will pass, and I
won't have to remember**
flash [I'm thinking desperately
around the thumps of
knuckles on flesh and the screams
I can't contain that next time I
will hit back I won't
be frozen in place, wishing
bitterly I wasn't shamelessly
lying to myself]
this.
flash [I can't breathe.]
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.
Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,
cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.
So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—
Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!
You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!
But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--
in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!
Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--
T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!
And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,
in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!
You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!
--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.
So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!
Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
My god I love me some him
the way your heart thumps as I lay on your chest
your milky light-skinned body
you are Him
The way you pull your long flowing locks up in to a pony tail
your ****** structure so very strong is illuminated
hazel eyes makes my inner juices flow...
you are Him
so educated one of the facts I love
strumming your guitar I bet you can sing my life with your song
so wrapped up in everything that you are.
Him
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
A school bag against a wall,
paint peeling at the edges, grass growing
upwards, clinging to life
between the cracks of the pavement.
A hand on the school bag
clenched around the handle,
fingers pressed together,
curled, and the nails press into the heel of the palm.
They leave dark little crescents.
A boy;
he curls tighter against the wall,
a shadow throws itself over the bruise on his chin.
The boy pulls his school bag towards him,
rests his bruise on it. His fingers grasp
at the worn weave of it.
Eyes close, wrinkle shut.
Obscure all other senses,
so hearing is the sharpest.
Not yet, not yet. No footsteps yet.
Breath shudders, suppressed
from flaring nostrils.
Barely escapes from his lungs,
that are squished against all his other organs,
in that winding space of a box
compressing all of his organs.
No footsteps, no footsteps yet.
Breathe, breathe.
Footsteps.
Laughter, slinking around the corner,
ahead of the approaching group.
It plunges into the taught space of his ears.
Echoes there.
Thumps against his skull.
Footsteps.
A school bag, pressed tight against a boy,
who wraps his person around it,
begs it to be a shield.
A hand, curling into a fist.
Footsteps.
A boy,
and three others.
Three grin,
one does not.
He can't see their teeth, his eyes are stuck tight.
"Look at this pathetic ****
A slap of sole on pavement.
A boy stepping forward,
body harsh.
A flinch.
A laugh.
******* hell, I can't even be bothered."
Footsteps.
A high, quiet sob.
Fingers on a schoolbag, loosen.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Give me the sea and I'll drink it
all of it
Give me the sky and I'll blot it out
cut it out
leave the gaping earth barren of its liquid dressing
and leave the sky naked of its blue face
there is no compare
that is
not to say you are not enough for me
not at all
it is to say you are more than I could have desired
more
than I could have dreamed
and I do not tire of you
not in my darkest moments
when I'm stretched thin
and there is no longer
a devil-may-care draped about my addled mind
when my patience snaps
when my jaw clamps
my eyes droop
my brain thumps against my skull
not even then
with the last vestiges of civility held in grasp
not even then can I think to lash out at you
not even when you poke
or ****
plod about my sensibilities
maim my sensitivities
not even then
not even when you roll your eyes
give me that long 'hmmmm - really...'
I don't give in to the nagging,
nigh satisfying itch to shake with rage
and curse everything that stems from the womb
I am cool as a cucumber
placid as a windless lake
I roll my shoulders
flutter my eyelashes
look you up and down
say,
'My... my... tired aren't you?'
Your shoulders slump
Your efforts to topple me abate
You nod your head
curl up on my lap
isn't it
funny
how comforted we become
when we are offered solace
in exchange for an argument
that neither of us
would win?
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 4:06 AM UTC
First Meetings
First meetings,
open doors,
first time my eyes explores.
my heart thumps,
my breath quickens,
be gone jitterbugs and good riddance.
First meetings,
doors wide open,
words kept close,words unspoken.
life is short, so keep it simple.
keep your heart like its a temple.
First meeting,
doors arise .
I see the upcoming demise.
I see it in your eyes.
the windows of your soul are shining back.
the windows of your soul are ready to attack.
First meetings ,
your heart sets ablaze of wonder and fun.
your spirit like thunder,
your heart just a blunder ,
it went off like a gun.
It shot me straight in the heart,
you shot so straight you almost tore me apart.
first meetings,
cautious doors,
no time to be explored.
First meetings, first encounters, first loves.
~When there’s a first remember there's always a last.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC