NaPoWriMo Day:18 First Sounds

The bird goes tweet
the owl hoots
the secondhand on the clock
goes tick, tick, tick.

A child whispering
a vacuüm humming
a turn signal on a car
goes click. click, click.

A crowd of people talking a mile away
daily annoying sounds that we take for granted
my teenage son heard for the first time today.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 
 

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NaPoWriMo Day:17 Latin Lover

His dark tousled hair
fell lightly over his tan shoulders
not too long
and not too short
but just right for a
latin lover.

He flashed a pearly white smile
and winked his dark chestnut-colored eye
and she swooned.

She reached out her hand
touching his.
He grabbed a hold of her tightly
kissing her with the passion
she had always dreamed of.

They fell into each others arms
on the sandy beach
not too fast
and not too slow
but just right for a
latin lover.

She laid cuddled beside him
it was just like a dream
he told her te quiero
her body wanted to scream.

She opened her eyes
searched through the night
her lover was gone
he was not in her sight.

She wanted to cry
about this horrible nightmare
but instead she looked up at the stars
and waited for her
latin lover.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 

NaPoWriMo Day:16 You Will Be My Love

nothing can stop me
not in this life or the next
you will be my love

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 
 

NaPoWriMo Day:15 A Spicy Encounter

Her eyes
a deep oceanic blue
glazed and fixated
on something off in the distance
something only she could see.

Saliva pooled in her mouth
forcing her to swallow
repeatedly.

Beads of sweat
began to form across her
wrinkle-free browline.

She inhaled deeply
held the air
inside her
for a few seconds
then quickly she exhaled
every bit of it out.

She begins to sweat profusely
hyperventilation occurs.

Suddenly she screams out
OH MY GOD!!!

Right at the exact moment
she can no longer take it
she lifts her delicate
yet clammy hand
across her beautifully flushed face
wiping away all traces of sweat.

She refocuses
trying to control her breathing.

But before she can fully recover
she opens her devil red
painted lips
and takes another bite
of that enormous
crisp
bright green
jalapeno.

Sealing her fate yet again
for an encounter of the spicy kind!

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 

NaPoWriMo Day:14 Unhappy Ending

It was the last straw
The end
One fight too many
Arms desperately reached out
She dropped to her knees
Makeup and tears streaming
Down her aged face
She squealed
Grasping at the deadened
Stale air between them
Pleaseeee
Don’t leaveee meee
As the door slammed behind him
As it had done daily
For more than 20 years
She lay on the floor
In the fetal position
Heaving and crying
Gasping for air
Minutes turned into hours
Hours felt like days
When she could no longer cry
When her tears had finally dried up
She picked herself up
And walked into her room
Climbed into the queen sized empty bed
The dogs all deceased and gone
The children
No longer kids
Had families of their own
Packed up and moved away
A long time ago
All that was left was a house full of silence
And painful memories
She stared at the wall
Full of photos
She was in none of them
She was where she had always been
Behind the camera
Behind the scenes
The life on hold
As she uplifted
The lives of everyone else
Now there she was again
Alone
Tired
Tossed aside
Left to rot
Teardrops falling once more
And just as it had always been
There was nobody left
To wipe them away
So she slipped
Further and further
Back into the abyss
Into the one place
Where the pain
Could no longer exist
It was the end
Her unhappy ending

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:13 Be Very Superstitious

Avoid the black cats
that cross your path
and walk in your way

Don’t go under ladders
or open umbrellas indoors
those will ruin your day

These are some of the things
*knock on wood*
that will change our luck
from bad to good

A ridiculous kid’s game
skipping over cracks
an age-old superstition
not to break our mother’s backs

Delicately pick up pieces of glass
from dozens of broken mirrors
your bad luck is imminent
multiply each by 7 years

Quickly throw over the shoulder
the spilt salt raining down upon the floor
then chant a dead loved one’s name
while brushing it out the door

Yellowed pages
ripping
at the seams
stuffed with dead 4-leaf clovers

A rusty horseshoe
hanging
by one nail
above a forgotten entrance

Tucked deep inside
a worn out pocket
three balding rabbit’s feet
and five copper pennies

Be very superstitious
it is Friday the 13th.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:12 6 Word Poem

I have
no desire
to write

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:11 Sibling Day Haiku

my dearest brother
your love deep within my heart
can not be replaced

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:10 Three Little Letters

Three little letters
Proceeded to stalk me
Everywhere I went
Identical three little letters

Nonessential
Minute little letters
Commanding
Heart-clenching

Woeful
Unbearable
Mighty frightening
Modest little letters

Three little letters
Proceeded to mock me
Everywhere I went
Identical three little letters

Influential
Permute little letters
Demanding
Gut-wrenching

Soulful
Terrible
Jolt of lightening
Honest little letters

Those three little letters
Have struck again
And ravaged me

Those dreadful
Shocking
Appalling
little letters

R.
I.
P.

If you visit no other blogs today please visit Sensitivity. The world has lost a tremendous poetic talent and someone that I will miss terribly. May you R.I.P. that which you did not have in life.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:9 Surviving The ABC’s

Although most of my life has been

Between a rock and hard place

Constant I shall remain

Diligently thriving with grace

Exceeding my own expectations

Freeing myself completely from hatred of others

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:8 The Colored Egg

spring pastels

pinks, blues, yellows

warm sunny colors

oranges, reds

glow-in-the-dark

slime greens

a blank egg shaped canvas

children’s voices echo

laughter and joy fill the air

a mother awaits

 the first bite

of her child’s masterpiece

crack, peel, yum

there’s nothing better

than a colored Easter egg

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:7 A Sábado de Gloria Memory

Animated faces in a crowd
people of all ages gather around.
One of the best days en mi memoria
was this very day, Sábado de Gloria.

The Sun shined down, warming everyone
then someone cried out, “Look he has a gun.”
But this type of gun posed not a deadly threat
its main intent was to get, the entire crowd wet.

The children joined in, their parents too
gallons of water into the air flew.
The great water event started before noon
and continued all day ‘til the emerge of the moon.

Oh what a glorious Saturday
when everyone came together to play.
The moral of this story my dearest friend
is of harmony and bliss when we let love transcend.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:6 Smells Like Haiku

sand and surf beckon

 a fragrant coconut trail

just follow your nose

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day: 5 Waiting

Wait…

waiting…

What am I waiting for?

I’m left here

just

waiting…

ready to walk out the door.

He has no respect

I feel like a joke

I could very well croak

 while

waiting…

Sigh…

yawning…

I can’t take any more

of this

waiting…

What am I waiting for?

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day: 4 The Wedding Blues

The bride-to-be gets ready
the groom is nowhere to be seen.
He’s off getting drunk
as he always has,
wondering if he is making a mistake.
The bride-to-be’s mother
helps her to get ready.
Pastel colored shadow
swept across sad and confused
distant eyes.
A baby girl all grown up with a baby girl of her own.
No longer needs her mommy
or does she?
The bride-to-be slips on her white wedding dress
it’s cheap, from Ross
no frills, no lace,
just a plain
white colored dress.
Ill-fitted and a mess.
The bride-to-be looks in the mirror
she hates what she sees.
A sad, depressed blob of a woman.
Unrecognizable to the woman’s memories.
Those eyes,
once alive and full of sparkle
now dark, dead
full of pain and disappointment.
She waits,
scanning the parking lot
for the “man of her dreams.”
Finally,
as the sun begins to set
her prince charming shows up
drunk,
nothing new to their daily life together.
He reeks of alcohol and a future filled with empty promises.
Tears flow down the bride-to-be’s cheeks
as she watches her soon to be groom get dressed.
For one moment their eyes lock
and they both know instantly
their future will be fraught with more pain
more tears
more fights.
Maybe she should run away
maybe she should have listened to her parents
maybe she is making the biggest mistake of her young life
for nothing ever ends well that starts out this damaged.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:3 A Pirate’s Limerick

There once was a girl rather dumb
who dressed like a pirate for fun
she’d enter the bar
all a sudden yell arrr
then swallow seamen with her rum

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day 2: The Scorching Days of Spring

Humid
Saturated
Muggy day

Ensnared
Concentrated
Sweltering afternoon

Melted
Dissipated
Gooey night

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

What Does April Start With? Poetry!

It’s the first of April Many things for me to do Write a poem for national poetry month And trick that April’s fool

So where do I begin Whatever shall I write I tried my hand at triolet But I couldn’t get it right

How about a nice haiku Something short and sweet But there’s nothing I can say That will sweep you off your feet

Hey a Shakespeare sonnet An ode to times of yore But by the time I’d finish that I’d be passed out on the floor

So I’ll write this little poem here And I’ll even make it rhyme I’ll even prompt for you to comment If you have the extra time

But if you have no extra time Please make a mental note To return here every day this month And read the poems that I’ve wrote

NaPoWriMo has officially kicked off. If you haven’t noticed I am participating this year. Here’s to a whole month of poems from me to you. Cheers! Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World Lyric Fire AscendingTheHills 142 BooksSulekha Rawat: Memoirs To create… memoirs of a homemaker One Time Pad Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…EllieBloo Chris Galvin 

Jessica’s Sonnet

At long last… I finished my Sonnet homework last week and can now share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it, it took me 3 hours but, I am content with the outcome.

 

I must not grieve thee nor shed a lone tear
I must proceed as if I do not care
For weeping makes losing you worse my dear
Agonizing memories I cannot bear
Every dewy teardrop that escapes me
Burns my flesh like the fiery depths of hell
I must not succumb to sorrow of thee
For I shall be reminded of our farewell
But, weeping cleanses the grief-stricken soul
Easing each previous moment of pain
Allowing the broken to become whole
Sanctioning lovely memories again
Dire sorrow causes me not to cry
But, sans tears for your loss I’d surely die

Evelyn De Morgan- Angel of Death

Google Image

Moonlit Magic

Google Image

As the sun did descend
into the abyss
the moon came to view
our first passionate kiss.

Our mouths start to tango
hearts beating as one
the warmth of our breath
flaming hot as the sun.

Your arms they engulfed me
strongly and secure
I looked in your eyes
mesmerizing and pure.

Enchantments soft whisper
echoed through the sand
freeing its potion
as we walked hand in hand

Your charms diluted me
I could not refuse
our bodies gave in
to the moonlight’s pale hues.

The trees swaying gently
a magical sight
applauding we lovers
making love through the night.

Google Image

The Secret

There is a secret
I’m required to keep.
I hide it for them
I bury it deep.
A cancerous secret
destroying my brain;
killing all happiness
leaving just pain.
.I’m not ever allowed 
to utter a word;
no one must find out 
what evil occurred.
A monstrous secret
that is hidden away,
they lie just to keep it
to this very day.
Their terrible secret
fights me for control.
I’ve attempted to free it
but, it’s sewn into my soul.
Google Image

Let Me Be Free

I’m ready to curl up into a ball
don’t want to move if I do I might fall.
My eyes are red and puffy from tears
I haven’t felt this pathetic in years.
Old hurts resurfacing, killing me
you can’t understand because you don’t see.
Can’t let go of the emotional Hell
need time to recover, time to get well.
Nobody understands the pain I feel
they’ve no idea what is show or for-real.
Tears erupting the moment I’m alone
burning my skin, cutting me to the bone.
Knocking back glass after glass ‘til I’m numb
not satisfied with what I’ve become.
Drowning the memories one after one
‘til all are confused and I’m left with none.
The pain remains standing, refusing to bow
I’m lost and don’t know which way to turn now.
Can’t escape the horrors I’ve seen and felt
refusing to shuffle the cards I’ve been dealt.
Can’t see past the words engraved on my soul
’twas your last dire attempt at keeping control.
Time and time again the wounds almost heal
I think I’m ok but, it’s all been surreal.
You’ve left me jaded unable to breathe
blinded by pain but, unable to leave
I don’t want these memories tormenting me
take back what you’ve done and let me be free!

Google Image

Who You Callin Old?

I am not old…
am I???
NO, I AM NOT OLD
I disapprove….
But, my knees disagree
and just argue with me
when I try to move.
At 2:30 A.M. I was trying to sleep
my leg began aching making me weep
I mumbled
and grumbled
and roared
then I stumbled
through the jumbled
mess on the floor
I had to find relief
to end my impending grief….
So I grabbed a bottle of pills
that only gave me the chills
so I put them back down.
I then grabbed the ben-gay
it reeked I must say
only making me frown.
I got up once more
but walking was a chore
I was going insane
from this crippling pain.
When I reached my room
in the back did loom
exactly what I required.
Right there in the drawer
closest to the floor
was the knee brace that I desired.
I then sat on the bed
but I just shook my head
because my hands felt fragile like glass….
So I tried it again
but,
let me tell you my friend
getting old is a PAIN IN THE ASS!!!
Google Image

Bird In A Cage

Vivacious yearning
saturates my veins.
No one could relieve
my suffering but, you.
I am just a bird
in a gilded cage.
You possess the key
to my lost freedom.
Enslaved ecstasy
released by you.
Passionate feelings
emancipated.
One delicate kiss
positioned warmly
upon my forehead
erases the stress.
The amorous stroke
of your tender hand
skimmed along my neck
eases the sadness.
The ever present
intoxicating
fragrance of your soul
illuminates me.
Certain casualty
magically eluded
as you release me
and claim your reward.
Google Image

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas Parody

Deviant Art

Note: This poem was written on AllPoetry for a contest on December, 17, 2010 about Ho’s obviously because it was Christmas time. LOL Oh and it won 2nd place in the contest.
Not suitable for children!

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the street
the hookers were sucking
and beating off meat.

The spouses of John’s
were wrapping up gifts
while their husbands were frolicking
and getting quite stiff.

The sounds of their moaning
filled the star laden skies
then rocking of cars
as the ho’s opened their thighs.

The scene was so merry
oh how they all played
til a man ran off
and a ho didn’t get paid.

What was she to do
this all felt so wrong
so she whistled for her pimp
while still holding her thong.

The pimp held his hat
and he ran after the man
when he finally caught up
he drew back his hand.

He snapped his hand forward
like a whip when it cracks
and proceeded to give
the man multiple smacks.

The man began crying
with such a release
that nobody heard the sirens
of the oncoming police.

The pimp gave a whistle
shouted out ho ho ho
thanked the man for his business
and said “Bitches let’s go.”

Now the pimp is more careful
of Christmas Eve deals
he now uses hotels
instead of hookers on wheels.

Now kiddies I tell you
listen up and believe
you shouldn’t go out hoeing
on the night of Christmas Eve.

Save the hoeing for Santa
because he really is good
just ask his mentor
the great Tiger Woods.

Is It Too Much To Tell You I Love You

Is it too much
to ask for your touch
to ask for your love
to ask for more than you are willing to give?
Is it too much
to need you beside me
to need you inside me
to need you more than you need me?
Is it too much
to want you with me
every second of my life
until the last bit of breath
has escaped my weakened lungs
and my broken heart
has finally dropped it’s last piece?
Is it too much to beg you not to leave me
to wrap me tight in your arms
forever
and never let me fall
back into the dark abyss
of my damaged mind?
Tell me now
that you will be there
when I finally close my eyes
and leave you
alone
without me.
Is it too much
to tell you
I Love You?
This is the English version to :
Es Demasiado Decirte Te Amo

Es Demasiado Decirte Te Amo

¿Es demasiado
para pedir su toque
a pedir tu amor
para pedir más de lo que están dispuestos a dar?
¿Es demasiado
le necesito a mi lado
a lo que necesita dentro de mí
que necesita más de lo que me necesitan?
¿Es demasiado
que yo te quiero
cada segundo en mi vida
hasta la última gota de aire
ha escapado a mis pulmones debilitados
y mi corazón roto
por fin ha caído la última pedazo?
¿Es demasiado
pedir,
 que no me dejes
para envolver apretado en sus brazos
para siempre
y nunca me dejes caer
de nuevo en el oscuro abismo
de mi mente dañada?
Dime ahora
que usted estará allí
cuando por fin cerrar los ojos
y dejarte
solo
sin mí.
¿Es demasiado
decirte
Te Amo?

Esta es la versión en español de:
Is It Too Much To Tell You I Love You

I Want To Be…..

I want to be:
erotic
exotic
neurotic
Neurotically Fixated
updated
debated
Debatably Argumentative
representative
tentative
Tentatively Cautious
precocious
atrocious
Atrociously Appalled
mauled
sprawled
There is no debating
I want to be erotically fixated
while mauled
without caution.

Environmentally Safe

Note: This poem was written June 20, 1993. I was 17 years old and fresh out of high school. I am pulling this oldie out just in time for Earth Day.

When I walk along the path
I see the work of human’s wrath.
Where things are thrown carelessly away
and nothing beautiful will ever stay.
For only in your deepest soul
where pride and caring take their toll.
Only in a few more years
where no one will shed beautiful tears.
The world, our home, our lives, our pleasure
discarded to the bottom like sunken treasure.
The beauty that we once had known
has been taken and carelessly thrown.
Only two answers can save this Earth
God’s destruction or help from “new” birth!