Good Morning SweetheartGood Morning Sweetheart2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Good morning sweetheart
Wake up and smell the trees
the wind through the window
Its another lovely day
I can make you happy for awhile
Let me see your eyes
They glisten like a galaxy
A thousand tiny stars
In a yawning blue sea
Let me kiss your lips
as soft as a gentle wave
and as sweet as ice cream cake
Don't let go of my hand
I need to feel yours here
Its my only summer home
And remember always to smile
Yours shines brighter than the sun
And brings my eyes a tear
And in that tear is all
my life, my happiness, my love
my gifts I have from you
I'll never let you go
I'll hold you here forever
And dream with you forever
Is the sunshine in your eyes?
Did I hold your hand too tight?
I'm sorry if I woke you
I only wanted to say
Good morning sweetheart.
Promise MePromise Me2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You'll let me know
You'll love me so.
You'll hold my hand
That this is real
The heart we feel.
You'll make me smile
You'll stay a while.
You're truly "fine"
That you'll be mine.
And promise me
We'll sail away
the stormthe storm2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lying in bed. The sheets kicked off. The darkness broken suddenly by the vivid strobe of light. It fills the room with the charged energy of anticipation. The fan whirs its hypnotic rhythm. Counting; "one-one hundred, two-one hundred, three-one hundred " waiting. Waiting for that sound to slice open the entire fabric of the sky. Thunder approaches with smells of memories drenched in childhood, forgotten tears, silent squeals of innocent excitement. Senses saturated as the rain begins to fall. Eyelids heavy. A lullaby of rain on a tin roof. A sleep of all that heaven must be.
How to Make a MonsterHow to make a monster, you ask?How to Make a Monster3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Well, it's really quite simple.
To start with you need a typical embryo,
Preserved in a jar of mushroom fluids.
In this order, add five drops of lemon juice,
Half a cup of spite,
A tablespoon of jealousy,
Three quarters of dark night.
Remove half the reason,
Siphon all that's light,
Take away the easy road,
And the sense of what is right.
Pour fire down his throat,
To give him extra fight,
And add a nasty aftertaste,
To keep him from clear sight.
Starve him of affection,
Add a thirst for power,
A good helping of bad temper,
So his enemies will cower,
A dollop of mean spirits,
A sprinkle of unfair,
A pinch of no-one cares,
And you have your monster there!
Hakuna Matata by Edward and JimmyEdward: Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase!Hakuna Matata by Edward and Jimmy2 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Jimmy: Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze!
Edward: It means no worries... for the rest of your days!
Edward & Jimmy: It's our problem-free... philosophy! Hakuna Matata!
Jimmy: Hakuna Matata! Edward & Jimmy! Hakuna Matata!
Edward: It means no worries... for the rest of your days!
Edward & Jimmy: It's our problem-free... philosophy! Hakuna Matata! Edward & Jimmy!
The Golden HourThe Golden HourThe Golden Hour2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And so the golden hour begins,
a halo kisses the backs of my hands.
Houses wave to me as I stare out the passenger window,
and I watch him breathe in slow motion on his porch.
Light touches his skin and warms his insides,
Filling even the darkest crevices with warmth.
He must be thinking a million eloquent verses,
Engulfed in orange silence.
I imagine him holding a pen and paper,
I see him gazing into the sun.
It makes his eyes water, but he refuses to look away.
The wind embraces my face as I throw my arms out
just in time to see him one more before he disappears.
All I hear is radio and the rush, all I feel is the glow.
I feel his sunlit smile invading my own expression.
I'm sure he doesn't really write poetry,
but if he did
it'd speak of everything from the feeling of flying,
to the rays of light that softly touch the flowers in my hair.
Shirt and PantsA man strolls pastShirt and Pants7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
toward the coffee shop.
He wears a shirt and pants
as most men do.
I continue on my way, because
thousands of men in shirts and pants
have crossed my path before.
But I glance back and think of him
as a favor for a normal man.
For every man (with or without pants)
has a story to tell.
Maybe he lived in a trailer
until his parents won the lottery.
And they all ran down the street
yelling and dancing as it poured.
Or perhaps he had a rough childhood
and his goldfish was his only friend.
And when he fell (hard) for a girl
he was left alone in the dark at 3 am.
I follow him to the coffee shop
and sit beside him.
He sips his coffee. Black.
Maybe his mother drank her coffee black
I start to ask him,
But he's only a man.
Most men would think that
my question is strange.
Or maybe he is strange too (I hope so)
and he is dying to ask me
if my aunt bought me these shoes.
HaikuStai cu spatele gol la mine.Haiku4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lumânarea se zbate lângă pat
și aruncă umbre de războinici
pe pielea ta fină.
Părul negru, lung,
îți curge ca cerneala pe spate...
Întind mâna, șovăitor,
și, cu grijă,
Îți întorci capul spre mine
și pentru un moment
iluzia lumii plutitoare
dar colțurile ascuțite ale ochilor tăi
în Țara Soarelui Răsare.
Cu răbdarea unui samurai
în audiență imperială
aștept, ca o stâncă, un ordin:
să îmi dau viața în luptă
sau să cad în propriul cuțit...
Dar sunt cruțat,
în noaptea asta
tu mă vrei
Draft 1 Chapter 1. The change,Draft 1 Chapter 1. The change,1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
he morning blazing threw my
living room windows. Dust particles are dancing in the rays of light,
to some unheard song. As I sit here in the shadows at my small dining
table. With its dishes from past meals. With its lonely chair I
now sit in. I can’t help to think of my life and what has
passed before my eyes in my 40 years.
What has my life come to? What were the highs and lows? Is there
meaning to my life? If I die today. Would anyone miss me? Is there
more to this life. All questions we all have to ask our selves at
some point in our lives.
Two years after the car
accident. Losing my marriage of 20 years and my two kids. Two
lovely daughters. Smart as whips and always made me smile. Now this
house feels empty. No cheerful screams or bitter tears that can only
come from youth.
Darkness, I...Darkness, I...1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every night I pick a star in the sky
and persistently follow the path
that leads to it.
But soon I realize:
the star that once lit the way
is now dead,
and has been so for eons...
Tonight I shall choose a new direction,
one with no light
and I will navigate on it,
and witness the birth and death of galaxies
as I go by...
But I won't stop,
I will go on
Oh, Darkness, I...
home is the place
you launch your ships from
Alzheimer'sHis house is made of crumbling slatsAlzheimer's7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of rotted knotted oak
and weakened joints.
The wind blows unfettered
through unshuttered apertures
dragging fresh sunlight in
and memories away.
Even on the clearest days
he visits the front porch
less and less often.
He prefers to explore
those rooms further in
where tide and time have yet to reach. Sometimes
he might be gone for a week.
And one day, too soon
(not soon enough)
his ramshackle dw