Niagara Falls
I only wish you had been to Niagara
romance never ends there ever,
I would love to have one each day
come what may
winter spring or snow
the Niagara always does love grow

and upon my life’s arc
there is a permanent glow

how I wish all of you
sooner than later to Niagara go
to make the most beautiful
of all God's presentations of love
naturally flow

No matter the vibrant or rain soaked things
happening outside my window
or between the space
where floor
doesn't quite
meet door,
I linger in my own soft breeze.

As I be breezing,
I be fluttering.
My lips be muttering.
My poetry stuttering
desires I keep
just for you

The room is empty
and dust motes circle in slices of light.
Books like brickwork cover one wall
and on a table a wise old chinaman looks out,
the only figurine.
In another unit a child is crying,
and further away
there's the distorted sound of a reggae tune
but here
not even phantoms visit.
Memories that might have gathered,
as crumbs do in soft furnishings,
have departed like revellers, (laughter
echoes, the lift door closes).
No ticking clock,
no floorboards creak as evening arrives.

please submit a meaningless comment.
Just testing different aspects of Neopoet

grime
annointed
time bleached
with the tongue ot sun
tasting

shade and blight
rust and blood

tears and worn streets
full of wind catologued
flyers

You groomed me long
ago

the night fresh
you tamed the beast

leaning in the trunk yearned
forest

beneath the cacaphony of constellations
how you tore at the flyers
denouncing
reasonable
plausiblility
of a rational
curiculeam

China marker
head water

declinated
dampened
wave

rolling in the dearm verve
occupying
the steadiness
faded as the years

a rush through
a heart
nears

thunderpressed
vivid
opacity

I look for you there
......

your voice speaks volumes of memories gone by
who wouldn't like to hear your tunes and why

my voice is one of angels from far and wide
I don't wish to behind clouds hide

I have my own imagination on which I do rely
and I don't get to read others as a reply

those who have a voice of their own
never feel shy

and
in love of hope of being remembered never die

listen to my voice today
you may not get another chance anyway

I think of you
In the sleepy afternoon
I remember the flowers
Fluttering in the breeze
And your melody echoed
Reaching the depths
Of a soul deep asleep
Waking it from dreaming.

I think of you
When the sky from cerulean
Turns into gold
I recall the moments
When my gazes never settled
Until they found you
And my cheeks burned
Though I hated it,
My lips couldn't lie
For the smile never left me.

This time
which should be marked
by comfort , safety and new love
anticipation as well as appreciation
of new life
is not to be

Instead
within a chamber marked by blood
discarded trash, feces and crud
nature's system is derailed
by the invasion of a womb
for the hopeful? naught but doom

Dead soilders crunch under feet
Where stained bricks and alleys meet.
Pass along the paper bag,
Spark up a jack, take a drag.
Dime bags sold from corner stores.
Addicts, dealers, pimps and whores.
Living, dying, day by day.
No time for sleep where I stay.
Daily hustle on the flow,
Torn flyers read, "Just Say No!"
Born to this, I'll never leave.
No way out that I perceive.