The morning shapes
When we awake
but we don't want to
wake...
the sun's rays show
the dust the grit
as it enters
through old torn curtains
slits
last nights visionary
position missionary
and act as a warning
want to miss
the bus
she is waiting
idling twiddling
her thumbs
o when will you come
be a sweet butter
fly
if you will
take all my pollen
and
spread it
if you will
then upon my soil
you may till
till like the the flame
the butterfly does kill
me you will...
Comments
Hi loved
Like a lot of your poems I enjoyed reading this but can't put my finger on Why lol...........stan
you know stan
I saw my fan list and observed all have left NEO
and the ones who still read me
you ian jess janes two etc i am not on their/your fan's list
This poem was a reply to a lazy man's poetry
like me he louses
and
then while waiting in my car near a bus stop...a parking lot
I saw a gal desperately waiting alone
dancing no bus came for a long time
I watched her ...she could not see m
that's why some of my poetry is a mystery
two in one admixturish
and
glad the ones you read ..you like em
thanks stan I must bow
you alone r my poetic fan/okay MAN!
How is ma'am Susan!
regards to her
Heck loved
not to worry. I don't know how to put people on fan list so your not being there is no slight to you. Perhaps I once knew how but have since forgotten because I don't really see the point. And i agree about the members who have drifted away over the years. Sometime I edit something old and the only comments are from those apparently gone now........stan PS Susan is doing as well as anybody who is married to me can be lol
great
when any profile u see it is mentioned there
follow the guy etc u see pl
My mercies for Susan
LOL lololol me too
says mine
lol
all in the same sunk TITANIC I c
u 2
butter that
butter that
fly
watch it sigh
into your garden
of
undone