i miss you... i miss you in those most random of moments. i forget to forget you, to let you go of you and memories.... i smell you randomly, i still feel your touch trace across my body. the visions of you filling my mind against my will. i can feel the emotions ripping through my heart as each flashes in my head..... why did you go ? i don't feel like you left but your absence has been filled with the memories of our times together. bittersweet limerence comes crawling in as i try to shut the door for the meories to stop. i miss you, i cant tell you or even lie to myself about it. i know i love you and my love wasnt enough, i screamed and pleaded with you to not leave.. to not abandon me. you were at doorway looking out.... here my pleas to growth with me, don't leave out of fear.... we can work through fear together. but you couldn't fight anymore. a moment flashed were i saw our future together.. what could have been? the places we would've went. the children we could have had, the beautiful memories we created. now im left in the floor scared and grieving of my life that could've been
The man who fell to earth
He embraced the conservative dogma, but he was also
like Tucker Carlson, a committed Christian, believing in
The gospel and God's son, Jesus.
He embraced the duality of Judaism and Christianity
Israel had given him money for his views and loved
by the likes of Netanyahu, and Trump was his friend
Then it went wrong, the suffering of Palestine bothered
His Christian soul that protested
He moved away from his certainties and spoke of his dread
All hell broke out, and it was pointed out to him that taking
The shilling had to follow a path they had pointed out for
him, he baulked at this and became more convinced
They were wrong
For his unwavering faith, he was shot dead, a martyr who
stood his ground, when he, like many others, did, could
have looked away.
Charlie Kirk was a hero who will be remembered for
a long time to come
When Alfred left me
It was not my fault, I had no shoes, and the police stopped
asking why I had no shoes
since it was none of their business
I naturally told them to off.
I was handcuffed and put in a police car,
which was more cooling than the asphalt
It was October in Albufeira, which can be warm
I thought this was a perfect movement, a father defends his son
But Alfred, who refuses to be my father, had gone home
I was left to explain this ridiculous case,
luckily the Portuguese
The police force felt sorry for me and let me go.
The next day, I bought a pair of sneakers in a Chinese shop
Alfred was wearing my costly upper leather
The English woman
There is an English woman who comes
to our flat twice a week to do housework
She has fallen on hard times, not for me to ask
She has five cats, and I think a man left her
She is publishing a book on Kindle when
I ask if it is about sweet kittens, and she laughs
My innocence tells me it is about love
She likes coming here, because she is not
overburdened with dirty dishes, my wife
seen to it that I do the cleaning and empty
the bins
She has lived a long time in Portugal, my
wife and her sit in the kitchen talking
Mister Alfred
Mister Alfred
Alfred, the pianist who is also my father
although he denies the paternity vehemently,
was in Hawaii and played the ukulele with
Had little success and returned to Europe.
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, could
get the sweetest tones when he played and
women swooned in other men’s arms,
was when not playing of a rather sullen nature
He spent the day walking around town with
In an alpaca jacket and a French bonnet, he looked ever
artistic, and I followed him around, once when I fell
A bollard got in the way; he did help me up and
I`m not your father!
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, got to be
ninety-two, and in the last years of his life was glad
to have a son, even if it was a fake one, as Alfred
was fond of pointing out
Wit
Where were you when I was arrested at a public toilet for drinking
of a flask of brandy- the man beside me was a police officer out
to catch people like me who needed a drink to survive the tedium of
living in a provincial town in the middle of a landscape of cows
Where were you during the court case when the judge said I was
a disgrace, a plague on the backside of humanity, drinking in public
It is a serious crime, the buffoon thundered, throwing the gavel at me
It hit a guard in the head, who was knocked out
Where were you when I had to run the gauntlet of jeering reporters
and people pointed me out in the street, and a hush when
I entered a café, and the waitress refused to serve me coffee
You went on holiday in Spain, drinking red wine.
Charlie Kirk
On YouTube
An Australian podcaster
interviewed
The esteemed colonel
Macgregor
who, at the end of the talks
that Charlie Kirk had received
millions of dollars
from Israel
This painting is disturbing for us
picture and might have
contributed to the slaying
Charlie Kirk
Woody sonnet
I tried to be a carpenter, soft wood
and a screwdriver to make shelves for
I have many manuscripts that I have not
the heart to throw into the flames
In case what I'm looking for is there
The girl in the shop said I could not
carve a name on the shelves, she
handed me sandpaper to erase
The titles I had given the shelves
Failure one and failure fifty-four
She, the girl in the shop, gave me
a plastic hammer for free
Soft power of a white shirt
is worn by public women
who are a minority
Their lifestyle has nothing
to with the struggling
low-income women we see
all around us
The Battlefield of Survival
There is nothing that brings out our fragility
to surface like surgery, dreams one has of
success is laid bare under the well-lit light
of an operating table
First time I had one of those growths removed
was seventy-five years ago by our doctor
wearing a three-piece suit with a blue tie
My memory of him is that of a man who
had a cigarette in one hand and a scalpel
on the other hand, during the proceedings
he spoke to my mother about the weather
That was inclement, and the Labor Party
He and my mother were communists
For a long time, I had to take blood tests
which I didn't mind, his waiting room was
full of magazines and newspapers
There is nothing to read in waiting rooms
anymore, apparently, it is unhygienic
Not that it mattered, one has phones
The surgeon and his assistant spoke
pleasantly to each other about their work
at hand, I just happen to be there
After the operation, I was led into a room
to rest and dress, no, there was no kind
nurse serving tea
A poet at the supermarket
At the supermarket, yes, we have one near Faro. I met a poet.
The mall is nicely built and has two bell towers.
From time to time, they chime to remind us why we are
Here, not sit on a bench in its courtyard looking up to
The sky is seeing mind-blowing cumulus configurations.
The poet I met had a white beard, wore an old black suit,
a tie with red wine spots on, a black beret that whiffed
Of garlic, I think. You could see that it wasn’t really there.
His eyes scanning the ground, he bent down, picking up.
Half-smoked butts of cigarettes. Ok, not so rich
So what? Haven’t you heard of a poor poet before?
They are not all idle sons of the rich, and with a university.
Degrees in literature. A notebook in the side pocket and
Two pencils in his breast pocket; so he was a poet, ok.
A sonnet to a friend
Lately, every evening, I listen to music on
short clips on the internet
I have not been taking this art seriously
busy as I have been composing unwilling words
trying to create art
How wrong I was not to hear
It is all there, beautiful humanity
in classical form or popular
Suddenly, as my world is coming to an end
the beauty I have missed by not listening to
the love expressed in an instrument or in
A human voice makes me long for more years
Published Poet
I wrote a poem 24 years ago,
I have forgotten it now,
but I was paid twenty quids
and my plan was to frame it
for anyone doubt
I was truly a poet,
My wife was sarcastic about this
paltry sum, she didn’t get it
I had joined the rarefied
of a poet who had been paid
for his work.
I do not do poetry comps
anymore,
The excitement of winning was
too overwhelming.
The Burden of Youth
She was seventeen, and her boyfriend had left her
Life is more intense when you are young, she wanted to commit
Suicide so he could see how much he loved her.
Filled her rucksack with stones and waded into the bay, but
The water was low only to her chest when she reached the other side
Besides, she was glad to be alive.
She met a young man also unlucky in love, who took her rucksack
Filled more stones into it and waded into the sea, but now there was
High tide and the young man disappeared under the sea.
A few seagulls shrieked in the otherwise silent area as the girl waited for the bus.
To take her back to town, block out unpleasant thoughts, she said aloud.
My father is a communist, the bus driver who was a fascist stopped
Pulled out his gun and shot her dead, and the women on an outing clapped.
This was her father letting the red flag fly in the street of Utopia.
Flesh of his people tearing from the bone,
The soul seeps as the devil feasts for the heathonous shall moan ,
For the King of the wicked shall set on his throne,
World left burning with a chilling tone,
Gifts for the vile for he who sleeps
To the wickedest of wisdom that turned them to sheep
For the mother and children were left alone
For the clock that had broken shall turn them to stone…
Specific Types of Abc Poems
Read wonderful abc poetry on the following sub-topics:
friendship, kindergarten, learning, life, love, nature, rhyme
and more.
Definition | What is Abc in Poetry?