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Paul Hardwick Jul 2015
I love the way you do that
WHAT!
blow you vaper in my face
the sounds she sounds does my mind in
custards creams in the air
YOUR QUITE MAD YOU KNOW THAT?
I might but what the hell
lets vap
WHAT ARE YOU VAPING
Kiss for it reminds me of your lips
WHAT WOULD YOU VAP LICKING MY ****?
Rest of the poem is very personal, just finding clermizer with custard cream       >>>  P@ul.
Don Bouchard Apr 2014
We sit,
Witnesses
To Immolation,
Acknowledging Death.
Vap'rous vows now vanished;
Infidelity preceding
The wedding day,
Following after,
Covered deftly under
Lies compounding lies,
One holding true,
One never so,
And so we sit over
Coffee and Divorce,
Now that the truth is out.

We sit,
Witnesses to small talk:
"You may have the furniture";
"Insurance ends in May";
"Do you have a question?"
"There's nothing left to say."

We sit;
She leaves;
Her emptiness
Remains;
We three sit tight,
Uncertain,
Nothing left to say,
But still we sit musing
Coffee and Divorce.
Don Bouchard Jul 2015
Gray skies upward fling
In the vap'rous breath of Spring
Melting mounds of snow
Trickling rivulets slow

Lines of feathered travelers
Nature's hope inspiring harbingers
Vee Northward o'erhead
Calling high and loud and long
Their ceaseless journey song.


Houses buried far below
Including the one we own
Beneath the weight of heavy snow
Crack complainingly and groan,
Wait with unknowing strain
Warm sun's shine to own.
Spring!
Don Bouchard Dec 2016
Snaking around the bend,
Idle and steaming in queue,
Vap'rous auto line.

Steel, plastic, rubber,
Glass, fogged in the morning chill,
Shivering beasts stand.

Signal lights command
Constant comings and goings,
Senseless though they be.

Algorithms smooth
Trafficking in human lives,
Timing everything.

Hunkered here, I chafe
But wait, believing my turn
To be imminent.
Beverly Scofield Aug 2014
I feel a clearing of the skies.
The last drop of rain flings itself
From the roof's edge, and the wind
Carries it away to fall in the garden next door.
Little gray birds flit among the leaves, finding
Sanctuary in the gnarly branches of an old orange tree.
Yesterday, the wind sounded like ancient Aoleus
Dragging a long, gray beard through protesting grasses.
Today, it is young and lean, nipping at the clouds
Like a young dog at the heels of fleecy sheep.
A mountain's bulk shoulders the vap'rous flock up and over,
Pushing them onward to anticipating poets.
The rain endures, the wind abates,
Cloud tatters cast occasional shadows
Yet,
I feel a clearing of the skies.
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 2020
When I First Encountered with The Devil
There the weakest warriors wrathly
Flee from the farthest toes of a naughty evil
Even the roaring of a Lion wouldn't keep him healthy
Where trees dance, where the waiving hands of grass
Will be so frail to desist trampling, Where men ****
Grisly! When actually there a million of deathless Dalais
At abundance! But when invincible souls landed, Hey! Hope soar
That inevitable quest of callous chaos were quashed
That retro of hatred threat becomes clearly claptrap
That war wallows with forces that were waffled
For death! I survived those inanimate vap
From there, if for anyone knows but sonnets
They shall forever flows without dements

— The End —