Contributor Posts

When I have a vision;
memories from the past,
seldom do they last
but on occasion, some thoughts
will stick, in my brain
and then I remember
being there, once again.

Words. Words. Words,
the most beautiful of things.
The delight in my writing
is giving words their wings.

Wings to fly across the page,
where you can surely say,
words that make me feel
so good, each and every day.

Take these words, as written.
Place in your memory,
let yourself be smitten,
love in your own way.

For all I need
for all I do.
Please just let me
stay with you.

Where is all the love of ours
in this World, so grim?
Can it be found
in the darkest skies
or when you believe in Him.

Next to you,
in our bed,
you move close
and you said,
"stay with me,
don't go away,
keep me close."
This I say,
"I love you
every day."
Hold me close,
I am cold,
Keep me warm,
I'm getting old,
stay with me,
until my time
is over here,
then you can
move away.

A string of words,
some dark as coal,
are coiled tightly
around my soul.
My question now
is so profound,
how do I manage
to write them down?

A box of words, stood alone,
high up on the shelf.
Words that had been used before
in another way or else,
some that were always hidden,
never being brought to light.
For they were forbidden words,
to be kept locked up tight.
Mean and cruel words, they were
causing heart ache, when
used in strings, almost everywhere.
What words are they, I hear now?
Blasphemous words, you say to me.
Well please explain how,
the words I love to write with Pen,
on a ruled, bound up book,
when I am writing now,
the last time I did look.

I write for my readers,
that's what I do.
I write for my readers
exactly like you.

When you hit "Like"
or comment a few,
I feel inspired to write
for those, just like you.

I tire of using a hateful word,
the writing of which, is so absurd.
Please Lord, I humbly beg of you,
help me; do what I need to do.
For the love of my beloved one,
is to bring, joy and some fun
to her for things she can see,
knowing they'll be lost in her memory.

Hello, my lovely,
I said to her,
for her beauty
my heart did stir
and small talk poured
from my mouth.
As I rambled on,
with thoughts all gone,
as if numbed by Gin
and when no sound,
came from her lips,
I took a look, again
and found that I
had been talking to
an attractive mannequin.

Repeat

I know the sound ahead of me.
I know it very well.
It is that slippery road,
Descending straight into Hell.

A lonely tear ran down his cheek,
through his beard so white.
A wayward tear kept sliding down,
during this sad and lonely night.
The thought of love that will be lost,
no matter what you tried to do.
A thought so sad of she, on this day;
her life would soon be through.