Feel the cold wind blows
as the grim clouds fill the sky
while the heavens cry

The sound of raindrops,
drumming on my old rooftop,
music to my ears

Hear the thunder's roar
completing the symphony,
a true masterpiece

An angry woman
curses the wicked weather,
the cold hurts her bones

Outside on the streets,
people running for shelter
their patience, tested

On uneven ground,
puddles of water are formed
refreshing the land...

I will remember
the leaping seas,
the sloping smile
of the shore.

As emerging naked,
the moon lit
your lines and curves,
moved, the stone
of my heart
cracked

I felt a fear
that my pages
were to be rewritten,
I grasped my breast,
and the wind charged
as the sky fell

I will forever remember
the crack and fall,
until my eternal kiss

This stroll I’ve taken time and times before.
Each moment was as pleasant as the last.
I’ve seen the trees and harkened to Stan’s lore
while trodding grass as green as days long past.
For green and lush they were spite all the pain
and now I can recall the loveliness.
The fear is still remembered, but as gain;
those lessons learned that helped me to address
the joys and how to keep them close to me.
And so I walk again with my old friend
to gaze at flowers red and blue he sees.

I stay awake at the break of dawn..
Reminiscing about early stages of our love...
Smiles fill my cheek for a while...
A silent tear, a silent wish that You were nigh.....
But tears are colorless, my pillow would have testified...
Overwhelmed by your love, I turned a poet...
Ma tears will stop for now but will never run dry if u read this piece...
Till the gap between us is bridged forever....

monochrome speakers
all the dust beneath the
seekers
this lazy little lie
will enslave me
till
i
die

remember september
cold and clammy
i liked june
and you liked sammy

till we threw that
mothertrucking
switch
and brought
it down

like a burning witch

say they slay
us brand betray us
we will never make
a stand
fall of the edge
and leave no plan

save the dayglow
mockery
of the missing
diaries

Poets please
In my experience of poetry...
across the Internet...
I find a poem just 15 to 20 lines
is read most...
also with a sexy connotation mostly...

else poetry is en route
to the tunnel of time...
where no lights shine...
yes now, no more ...

poetry is becoming obscure...
that is very much sure
poets ought to endure...

There came a knock.

Time had come to call
upon my friend,

not me. Almost every
thing was taken
except for a box
packed and left

empty

of paper and pictures
with little meaning
when the people in
them no longer
have
memories.

I pulled the linens

from the bed,
pissed and soiled
like a diaper wrapped
around a bottom

too new to care
for itself.

I flipped the
mattress over and
fell asleep,
tracing words that
leapt with rage

Like a nimble footed ballerina
the ink flows in a rhythm
choreographing a ballet
of a poetic song

Her steps create
visions of a Swan
flirting with her mate
with suave motions
while her heart and soul connects
to the ethereal melody
creating an extravaganza
of an eclectic sequence

A misstep is the essence
of her mortal charm
not dithering her form and figure
in an enthralling ballet