Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eric the Red Oct 2020
You ****** me up
But never ****** me over
That’s why I still love you so..

Why I always will

Never asked for more
Than a storybook love
Never took what you couldn’t handle

And if you just said 1%
Our chances would be
I’d bury it like a pirate’s treasure
And simply wait
For our 2nd
Last time forever...
Eric the Red Oct 2020
Years travel densely
Hibernation
Comparisons
Conversations
But none truly compare
In and out of our
Lives
Not really giving second
Thoughts about them
.
Putting words down
Once again
Reactions
Familiar roads I’ve been
Down with you
Admiration
Subtle nuances
The way your tree
Sways this way
And that
I could be blind and I’d
Still know every inch
Of your body
Flung into the icy seas
And still know the taste
Of your kisses...
Do all old lovers talk like this?
Eric the Red Oct 2020
Dead leaves overran the walkway
Wooden bridge we held hands across
Creaks and crunches
Walking across it now
There is the threshold I kissed
Your neck upon
The overhang in need of repair
Open the door
Dust and soot
Cold corridor
Covers what once was vibrant
Love filled
Laughter
Cups of joy
October fires
Long into the night
See your ghost
Walking down the hall
Inviting
Wailing
Hurting
Missing
All this abandoned autumn needs
Is you...
  Oct 2020 Eric the Red
Seranaea Jones
-

" You have no real sense of meter,
your rhyming is non-existent
and you spell like a brat,
following no rules"


Rules?

i didnt know i had to follow
any rules, 'cept the ones in my
head that represent limitation

"Well, you need to read up
on some of the more classic
"recognized" poets—
Learn the Proper Etiquette !"


Dood,

i have read more than a few lines
of that finer moem-age poem-age,
and if you want to write about why
roses are red on fine sheets of poet paper
with a fountain pen in the fashion of Kipling—

Cool;

i will more likely write about how well Violet blew
over the top of a half empty jug of bourbon with
a ball point pen that skips more or less
in the style of Bukowski—

and then someone can say that
we had both written poems
about Colorful Flowers...



© 2020
.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4_bHiOpfeU
Eric the Red Oct 2020
The absolute worst feeling
In the world
Is taking a nap
In the afternoon
Sunlit
Everything familiar
And waking up
To darkness
Night
Not knowing where you
Are
Disoriented
Pained
Wanting to cry
Scared of being alone
Of being hurt by
Someone you love
.
I’m sure there’s other things
That are worse
But afternoon naps
That lead to night
No good can come from...
Poetry is like fragments
And that is the crux of being this type of writer

That fragment in time
Love or loss

Seeing and hiding

The pain
The silence
All internal

Sometimes little slips of paper
Left to be found in a jewelry box
Or luggage
or shoe...

Somehow always attached to leaving
But expressing in short verse
An insurmountable feeling of forever

Our words that never fail to carry
Be it to the heavens
To the sea

We see your captivating flaws
Take our anger and paint a tapestry of phrase
You will never be more beautiful
As when you are the subject of a poet
For that fragment
That stanza
It's yours

You are our muse
Our moments in time
A reality in our dimension
The reality of you
Eric the Red Oct 2020
Remember that bottle of wine
We shared
Remember buying it
Yellow purple label
California
Some valley somewhere
$15
Red Wine
Bitter
To your lips
Remember how we shared it...
It was the only way
from my mouth to yours...
.
Wine kisses with you...
Next page