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Nina Campos Oct 2016
When I'm alone
My mind drifts to you
The way you laugh
Your smile and the patch under your chin
The shape of your nose and your frizzy hair
The way you called me baby when you told me you don't love me
How you "just don't know anymore"
How you tried and gave up
When you told me how much you wanted me
How you've waited for me
How I've waited for you
They asked me to wait, told me you would find me.
Like a lilly patiently waitn, i did what i was told.
So i waited, hoping you would find me. A year passd and you did not show, attempting to find some closeness, i entertained myself with them, gave them what was yours.
A decade passed and u did not show, thought it was the stench of them that drove you away, so i cleaned up my act, drenched my soul in spirits n let them go.
A year has passed and you have not shown up.
Am getting tired of waiting.
So sit where you are... You were never needed.
Am go
Lady K Milla Aug 2017
I waited in time
And time was not kind
It asked me to find
My whole heart and my mind
I layed on my bed
And my bed said "get out!"
It said to collect whole self and my doubt
I layed on the couch
And the couch was a grouch
So I sat in my car
I sat and went far
I drove and I fled
Hit a tree, I was dead.
pk tunuri Mar 2018
She said She doesn't wanna talk
I waited for her to look back

I tried convincing her
She showed me her *******

I only ask you not to go blind on hatred
Be kind though we got parted
We all have misunderstandings, different opinions which leads to hatred. Be kind to everyone even if you hate them.
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
I'm not good at taking it slow
But I hope you know
Waiting isn't something I do well
But I'll wait for you, Annabelle

So many years since the day
I heard you say
"It's not time for us just yet"
And never did I once forget
That you were out there as well
As I waited for you, Annabelle

Time goes on and so it did
Just like you said
"It's not now or never"
But I said I'd wait forever
In all the time between heaven and hell
I'll wait for you, Annabelle

It's not easy for me to stand
As he takes your hand
But as long as he treats you well
I'll wait for you, Annabelle
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2018
That pure innocent smile,
Your childish face and that side profile,
Your silky hair and that perfect hairstyle,
Would never forget you.
**** I miss you!

The touch of your smooth skin,
That beautiful little chin,
Your blushy cheeks and that grin,
Still I adore you.
**** I miss you!

Those big dope eyes,
That Stupid nose ,
Those size 7 feet and pinky toes.
Your medications and Ayurvedic dose.
Wish again to feel you.
**** I miss you!

Baby I still remember,
that freezy December,
The day we fell off the scooter,
Your stupid buggy computer.
Our first date and the perfect kiss,
That raining night we spent in balcony
When you burnt the toast and macrony,
That birthday card you made me,
Helping in projects and assignments,
You taking care when I got sick,
I recall all those perfect memories of you,
still there's a place for you,
**** I miss you!

I wish you would have waited,
I would have come back,
But I can't blame you,
It was me who needed the space,
The fault is my OWN!
So I am the one left ALONE! :'(
I miss every cell of your body,
every second spent with you,
every moment in your arms,
Every bite I had with you.
I ******* miss the whole of YOU.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
He sat by a furnace of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown, for the king to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would say Him "nay."
And watched the dross that we had not seen
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were dim with tears,
We saw but the fire, not the Master’s hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow
As it mirrored a form above,
That bent o’er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He sees through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure.
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.

~ A.F. Ingler
~~~
HooCares Jan 18
The fears we carry
Shape our vision of the world
My fears are living the rest of my days alone
My fear drives me to be more human
To seek affection
I end up getting hurt more often than I'd like
the love comes
knocking all doors
all doors were opened

they saw the sun shinning
from you forehead, that is bright
the love orders

the hearts agree
they had to do
as they accept without any argue

the love is free
touching hearts at his way
making them shivered with fear

as they may be touched with cold there
the lips are closed
the minds waited
the eyes cried
even tier beloved was near
the love has his orders ands his ability to attract every one who dreams to live in happy life
thegirlwhowrites Jan 2015
I have not grown accustomed
to the sound of your messages.
Their presence did little to assure,
nor did their absence cause unsettling.
Today, however,
I must admit
that I have waited for that bell.
My heart salivated
at the sound of passing bicycles,
hoping finally it was you
remembering the love
you have left waiting.
I wonder:
How could you have conditioned me
to anticipate something
that has never been constant anyway?

for j.e.
*013115
I waited…
Waited for the music to stop
So you would stop all your dancing.

I waited…
Waited to get your attention
While the attention was on you.

I waited…
Waited my turn to be seduced
While you seduced another man.

I waited…
Waited for the dimming spotlight
So the spotlight could shine elsewhere.

I waited…
Waited on your flirtatious kiss
While you kissed every man that night.

I waited…
Waited to partake in your lust
While my lust played me as your fool.

I waited…
Waited for the music to stop
So I could stop fantasizing.
Follow me on Instagram @insightshurt
Read my blog at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
CA Guilfoyle Aug 2017
I think it quite strange living here walled by this house
when I was wilder than now I lived in nature
stalking birds and pollen laden things
always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer.
I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather
in storms I hid beneath branching cedars
sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard.
I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there
to sleep or eat and waited to leave again
waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass
spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries
I imagined that's how life would always be,
living outdoors under the sun or clouds
wet with rain, always picking flowers.
There were no carts with all their merchandise,
no barking dogs ,
or children’s screams ,
for now the village was lost in a sleeping dream .

Just the church bells toll that could be heard for the harvest of souls ,
to thank God for their crops to yeald .
The ladies bonnets ,
the men wore ties ,
the preacher wore black well betide .

The sermon was of sobering thought ,
that without Gods help we are but nought !

That Angels may open dungeon cells ,
and the strange old lady down the road ,
who nobody speaks of ,
Is not as mad as all were told .

Now  the  preacher man who was so brave ,
Who dressed in black with souls to save ,
closed his Bible with a grimise ,
then a smile ,
there are many on their way to hell ,
there is no time to wait ,
I wish you well .

For the tins are stacked all neatly in a pile ,
for the poor and needy ,
and the strange old lady ,
down the road who has a cat ,
or so I’m told .

And so the sweet melodies of heavens songs rendered to thee ,
of storms to come ,
thunder and rain ,
for nothing will be the same again .
For when everything is gathered in only then the storms begin ,
if I may borrow a poem or fable or so I’m told !

An old man waits for the service to end ,
he never goes in ,
he has no friends ,
but loves the hymns and awaits the winds ,
the leaves rustle ,
as  rain drops fall .

He smiles as a gust of wind nearly blows his hat off .
So as autumns leaves start to fall ,
on golden carpets with reddish glow ,
Cold  winds and rains fall
beckon us one and all .
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
My love, come back to me.
I long have waited my king for your kiss.  
Memories of islands, and far away seas
swimming through your breathtaking eyes.

Long vacations, and weekends spent with you.
My lover, friend and companion,
where have you gone?
Days still replay in my mind.

Thinking back over the years of you,
Snippets of memories come to mind,
But time and events have kept us apart
so here in my mind I find you.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
ryn Oct 2014
On this carousel
You and I
Ringing bells
Time passes by

Scorching bulbs
Ornate bobbing horsies
Enchanting music
Tell of magical stories

I am here
On this side
You are there
Same ****** ride

Opposite ends
Placed we two
We can't see
But each other we knew

Friendly peeks
Directed to you
All I could afford
Keep you in view

Still rotating
Ride goes on
Chasing each other
No closer we've drawn

Enjoy the ride
Soak in the sights
Hold at bay
Reality that bites

Thought about
Getting off
Don't know how to
Come to a solve

Can't hold still
It's eating me alive
Can't just stay
Have to strive

Hand still holding on
One foot dangling
Second thoughts play
But bent on releasing

Take the first step
Don't overthink
Take the leap
Step off the brink

Close my eyes
Time is now
Just let go
Fate I must allow

Ready now
Time came to a freeze
one...two...
three...release


Now off the carousel
Cloying uncertainty
Never been here
Unknown territory

In the music
Found familiarity
Unsure if here
Is where I want to be

What do I do?
Wait a little more?
Hop back on?
Or await what's in store?

Glad I waited
Glad patience I found
There you are...
Coming back round
Madness plays in loops...
A sick little spin on the carousel.
patty m Apr 2018
The far space is closing along a band of trees,
peelings of shadowy rind expose ghostly hues.
all around the air is flammable,
until the setting sun a burning bush turns ashen.  

Strange mood around this monolithic rock
that some folks fear.
Overlong we have waited presenting our sacrifices.
yet not a breath of wind stirs as we chant
and seeds take root.  

A strange spirit leaps into our midst
and all around there is a quick intake of breath.
Piercing movement collapses in upon itself as it whispers
though our pores.
Rhythms strange insistent beat, a driving force
whirls through our bloodstream,
its slow sensuous movements lead us into dreams.
Attached ghost,
your haunting aria spins in ethereal mist
transposing meditation.
Someone has put a hole in our language and now as we
look with hazy speculation upon the book
with tiny red stitches we remain baffled,
turning it round and round looking at all the foreign symbols,
                                   but it cannot be deciphered.  
Only the creatures of the forest remember;
Mid-Summer nights, the sound of magical flutes and the
bells of dancing nymphs.  
Only they understand  the gifts that Gaia bestows.    
Only they remember the Wisdom Of The Faun.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
As the sun reaches the other pearl shores
Your eyes are waited on by the universe's starry doors
It's okay to say that you miss me, you see
But you'd better miss all of me

Miss the way that I talk about you
Miss the way I laugh and the way I croon
Miss my voice when it sings out of tune
Miss my touch when we lie under the moon

As the stars blink into the sun
Your life is young and it hasn't yet begun
Do you remember the good times or bad?
Do you miss me or just a companion to be had?

Miss my paranoia about the way you feel
Miss the darkest things I tried to conceal
Miss the spirit of my unconfined relief
Miss my questions and my constant disbelief

Are the things that you remember too old?
Did you coat the dust in veneer crusted gold?
Are your memories too good to be true?
You say you miss me but really, you miss you
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2013
The Island Moorea,
backpacking Tahiti,
In the heat, the sun,
The rhythm of my footfalls
crunching loose gravel road,
The swish of pack swaying
in conert to my measured pace.

Breeze pushing branches of Palm,
Ocean waves breaching shoreline long.
Island vehicles passing, occupant's laughing,
a man laboring under large pack, alone walking,
Who could have been freely riding,
Unthinkable to Island Folk,
in hot tropical places.

Some humble homes pasted along the way.
Greetings exchanged with smiling faces there.
Not long afterward a new sound approaching,
crunching gravel, rolling up behind me.

A lovely young girl, perhaps nineteen,
long brown naked legs bike a peddling.
Hair jet black, long to her waist, wearing
a sarong, split up the side,
Shoulders bare and brown.
Dark eyes of wonder, sparkling of youth.
A radiant smile adorning a splendid face.

We went for a time at my even pace,
looking and smiling each in our place.
"Hello there," I said, she giggled, beamed
even bigger. Perfect teeth displayed.

"Why you walk?" She asked in heavily
accented puzzlement.

"To get to where I'm going". I replied
This response producing a pleasant laugh
from the girl. In which I too joined in.

"You go One Chicken?" She asked
I stopped then and turned to her.
"Where is One Chicken?" I questioned
with a grin.

She raised her graceful arm,
one finger pointing up the road.
"One Chicken there," she informed.

It was a store/bar, sort of place,
In the very midst of nowhere.
Indeed, more than one chicken roamed,
Many chickens did and a pig or two,
mingling free and doing their thing.

We entered out of the bright daylight,
into the deepest of darks,
Like in a movie theater, when arriving late.
Eyes adjusting slowly to what lay ahead.

A few Island Beers later,
I had acquired several new friends,
The girl my invitation to the party of
already happy people a little drunk on beer.
The Music was mostly of French persuasion,
With a bit of Bob Dylan thrown in.
The Beatles also had a tune or two.
The Liverpool beat resounding down Tahiti way.

Before the light did fail, I shouldered my pack
and walked some distance from Chickens and Pigs.
Found the beach, hung my Hammock for the night.
Built a small fire and opened a can of Spam delight.

She appeared again about ten,
looking beautiful in the new moonlight.
Newly washed hair, still damp and
smelling fresh of Lilacs,
Or some such aromatic scent.
We did not speak, no words were needed,

Made love on the sand, 'till the retreat of the
tide and sand ***** did come out, in their
eerie numbers, to eat what was at hand.
I suppose even us if we let them.

We retired then both to my hammock,
A pretty neat trick if you can swing it.
And we did.

She was so childlike and yet,
very much a woman grown.
There was no pretense shown,
no false inhibitions rendered.
These were not limitations of her culture.
people that respond to their emotional impulses.
An open and free spirited people living
passionately within each minute.

It all felt more akin to a dream than real,
All around me there was beauty,
Loving and being loved without hurry,
Free of guilt or even a single expectation.
Living in that wondrous moment,
of uncomplicated human splendor.
Like some Garden of Eden surrender.
A real life Gauguin painting.

In the morning, we swam naked in the sea,
frolicked like kids having a day at the beach.
Made love in the sand, I dozed in the sun.
Upon awaking she was gone.

I waited an hour or two, packed up my camp,
shouldered my load and returned to the road.
A few minutes later, again I heard the now
familiar crunch of rubber tires,
rolling road surface and there she was,
a straw basket in her Bike's basket,  
A huge smile on her unforgettable,
beautiful face.

We sat in a grove of trees,
among birds singing, in sight of the sea,
Upon a Palm log and ate fresh bread and
fruit. Drank strong black coffee (French Roast
I presume,) nibbling some marvelous cheese.
We tried to talk, but she understood little of
what I tried to say, my French was nearly
nonexistent, only adding to confusions sake .

She leaned her head on my shoulder,
the way lovers do and tenderly held
my hand within her two,
As if not wanting to let go,
Those gestures said all there was to say,
And we savored each silent moment.

We parted there, she on blue, rusty bike
and me on "shanks mare",
Off in two different directions,
Each out into the depths of our own lives,
Gone just like that. . . And yet,
Indelible, never to be forgotten or replaced.
Some days and nights, that young maiden of
Moorea does still visit me, in dreams as real
as can be. She never grows old, nor does the
beauty we shared for that one brief moment in
time immortal.

Someplace among the Islands of Tahiti
there is a woman in her sixties, most likely
a Mother, even a Grandmother yet living.
I hope she recalls as fondly the American blond
man with the big Orange Backpack, that in 1972
she met upon the road, near "One Chicken" and
loved freely and completely for two days and a
night, as that man does so fondly remember her.
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