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James LR Sep 2018
A poem is a journal
A poem is a pen
A poem is the emotion
We can't contain within
James LR Sep 2018
Breathing walls and vision stained
with the dying light of day
Honest words in honest pain
Hours later filled with shame
James LR Sep 2018
For better or for worse,
My heart is in your hand.
I choose to put you first.

Just ask me to, and I'll rehearse:
That by your side, I choose to stand
For better or for worse.

Give me thy pains to nurse,
And let me help you understand
That I still choose to put you first.

Bring me joy, slake my thirst,
As I walk with you through this land
For better or for worse.

Be this a blessing or a curse,
My soul is searéd with Love's brand.
So let me choose to put you first.

My heart with thy love doth now burst.
The trials of life, we will withstand.
And so for better or for worse,
Know I will always put you first
My first villanelle
James LR Sep 2018
Another year to celebrate.
Another year to denigrate.
For all that may go wrong.
For songs I haven't sung.

How far could I have come since then
If sinful idleness became
The incarnate expression of
The man I should have been?

One less year to grow and thrive
One less year I must survive
Awaiting our decaying fall
Birthday in a few. I always get the birthday blues
James LR Sep 2018
Life is not a tapestry
It is a single thread
The people are the knots and kinks
Who just get in the way of things
Of Mother Earth's sewing machine
James LR Sep 2018
Will was a mouse of tawny hue.
And as he grew he came upon
A leaf beside a silver stream.
When slithering, then creeping on

A monster snuck from olive grass
And all but asked to have his fill.
Down stream our friend did run away,
And thus escaped the brave mouse Will.

So floating on along the stream,
And wondering where he should go.
Then at a fork in brooklet bank
He took the way to forest old

Our mouse with fur of sandy brown,
The raft he grounded on the shore
And ran into the darkened wood.
From whence he would return no more.

For in the wood there lived a rat
Who did attack the chance to prey
Upon this humble passerby
That chanced to try to find his way

And then our mouse found destiny
And resting he was unaware
Of danger there. Rat had his fill
of Mr. Will and didn't leave a hair
I wanted to try using the trisyllabic rhyme scheme used by Tolkien in his poem "Errantry". Very hard to write in, and I probably flubbed it in some spots.
James LR Sep 2018
The echoes of the sea still ring
Lost praises no one heard them sing
They die on cliffs of stone and glass
Black smudges circle in the sky
To find the echoes come to die

The water like the sky is soot
And trees will ne'er again take root
The dark of night, the light of day
Once echoed in that silent sky
Where every echo comes to die
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