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 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
PrttyBrd
The darkest night eclipses the brightest stars
Eons in solitude
Addled by a sky steeped in navy
Ships with no direction
The soul drowns
Sinking deeper by the hour, by the minute, by each passing second
As it is engulfed in the tar of a languid existence,
There is a vision in spirit awash in a burst of light
Luna bathes all who see her, who trust her
As the darkest soul, full of dreams undreamt
Is blinded by light's quintessence
Yet, at once able to see the truth that is now exposed
And with eyes wide open, naught but a glimpse was caught
A glimpse of an angel
42714
it was just past three am
and the engine was running rough
and there was miles and years to go
streetlights goin by so fast they seem to flicker
like an old time picture show
the radio playing loud
some oldies station with an echo
like time was a tunnel of stars and streetlights
that endless perfect night with your girl next to you
shes wearing shorts and a wifebeater
flip-flops and all thouse bracelets
she tinkled when we would bounce in the back seat
she just laughs and says **** tootin'
my soul is three inches from flying pavement
and iv never felt so alive
the whole world comes down to that
floating flying dreamin running laughin freedom
on the wings of the engines secret fires
the road itself takes on a other worldly glow
in thouse hypnotic headlights
there in the tunnel of stars and headlights
a buick and a girl
iv never been so alive
Between the rocks beneath a mountain
the calmest dark upon her chest
where eyes don't stare or fingers grasp
the sleeping queen, she rests.

"Oh, to be found in the shadows
by a prince of unknown grace.
To be taken to his castle
with the sun upon my face.

"Perhaps a farmer or a youth
then cleaned by ***** hands
and brought as a gift of wonder and awe
to a love in humbler lands.

"Perhaps an artist, -a troubled one
whose craft is life and duty.
Whose heart is filled with heavy burdens
and art is filled with beauty".

Tectonic plates, they rumble
she gives a lazy yawn
as a glimpse of light now reaches in
to reveal the naked dawn.

And with the dawn an arm extends
to lift her from her bed.
The bony fingers carry gently
the queen that never wed.

"Perhaps an unlucky homeless man
whose clothes are rags and tatters.
Whose sole possession is me, a diamond,
and I'll be all that matter".

In a village in the deepest jungle
a travler finds a treasure
in the hand of a homeless man
beyond all Earthly meassure.

He says: "Do you know what that rock is worth?"
The homeless says: "I can't,
I lost my sight in the war, you see
but she feels good in my hand".

And he worshipped her all his days
untill he passed away
and in his humble will he asked
she be placed in his grave.

Still she dreams, that sleeping queen
of princes, farmers and artisans.
But she always shines her brightest
when she dreams of the homeless man.
unedited, I'll get back to it later...
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
SG Holter
I pile up twenty years worth of
Publisher-declined
Collections.

They reach me to my knees.
Little towers of Poetic
Injustice;

Mini-monuments to the years
Of mailbox disappointments
And cursing the arts.

Now I thank for every manuscript
Returned with their polite regrets.
Another volume of "Unpublished

Works"
for the future.
They are my Twelve Monkeys.
My Poetry of Gold at the

Rainbow's End.
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
SG Holter
...money can't buy you
Happiness. But it allows you to be
Unhappy in a more
Comfortable way.
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
SG Holter
So sweet now, my life.
The sounds my woman makes from
The next room
Pronounce home.
Pronounce unalone.

So sweet now, my life.
Winter is over and tonight we sleep
By open windows.
The sounds of the night shape
Our dreams; we awake remembering
Adventures.

So sweet now, my life.
A palace of contentment raised on
The sound foundations of
Tragedies and pure ecstacy in equal
Amounts.
As any life should be.

So sweet, so sweet. Belly full of milk,
Mouth full of honey.
Rain is a cool shower,
Snow confetti.
The Dome of Sky a hand above me
That assures that all is safe.

No step I take lands wrong.
No step brings me away
From anything
Sweet. So sweet now;
My life. My *life.
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
SG Holter
I am a nervous poet; sleep with my pen under my pillow.
All my sheets are white. And that's despite the fact that

I sleep with all my verbs on.

I've had friends that were good who were poets that are dead,
And the poem always got them in their sleep.

I rhyme with one eye open. I give birth in my sleep like a bear
To cubs that have left their crap on the notepad in the morning.

All over it; like letters from one poet to another -a thankful thing
Since poets say nice things nicer than non-poets; and even insult with

Slightly more finesse.

But it always gets you in the end, the poem. It gets you with the
Caps Lock, and you can see the Head of the Title, and then...

I'm a nervous poet; sleep with my pen under my pillow.
I traded it for a *****.

I'll dig with it.
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
tranquil
love
 Apr 2014 Sammie wells
tranquil
he read the mind of God

found it's a four lettered word.
Nothing more that Ben and Jerry enjoy
Than Florida on Spring Break
Hanging out there at this moment
On this bright and sunny day

Swimming in the ocean
Just off the Southern shore
Waiting for a nice plump student
To dip his toes in and more

Nodding in agreement
They both would like that very much
After all what would two Great Whites
Rather crunch for lunch

Conversation rolls around to Daytona
Reminiscing of the time
Ben chowed down on four collage kids
While Jerry gorged on Nine

Yes, Spring is in the water
Where both the sharks relate
Nothing better in Florida when
You can sink your teeth into Spring Break
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