I have observed brightly lit stores...
window displays welcome
with wide open arms.
Kaleidoscope of colours,
dancing to catchy music...
adding on to the allure and charm.

Droves of shoppers have identified this
as their slice of heaven.
Flagging retail therapy
and finding their
pocket of Eden.

I have observed some laying down.
Relaxing...
unwinding...
On patches of grass.
They stare at the sky
with much adoration,
as wispy clouds float on by.

These skygazers have chosen this
to be their little slice of heaven.
With the ground on their backs,
grass between their toes
and azure as their witness...
this is their pocket of Eden.

I have observed a couple of lovebirds,
seated at a café...
immersed deeply in conversation.
In their own private universe,
their own little bubble.
Employing hugs and frequent pecks as punctuation.

There's nowhere else they'd rather be.
From their eyes I know,
they've found their unique slice of heaven.
In each other
they've found their pocket of Eden.

I have observed myself...
I thought myself to be lost
for the longest time.
Seeking a place
for the voice in my head
that only spoke in rhyme.

All is not lost when
I finally found that place.
My little slice of heaven.
For almost a year ago today
I decided on Hello Poetry
as my pocket of Eden.

A star, I have found,
and that star is You!
Who have I among them
but You?

The galaxies
subjected to Your will;
You alone
can make their lights shine.

My hope is built
on nothing less.
May You make the stars shine,
and leave darkness destroyed.
May You be the pinnacle of joy.
May I dance with You as
You sing over me!

O, the love of the Maker
of the shining stars!

Check the phone for work
Check the phone for love
Check the phone for friends
Check the phone for time
Check my pulse for life

He is
smart
but tries to hide it.

He is
talented
but won't admit it.

He is
handsome
but doesn't know it.

He is
softly spoken
but speaks too little.

He is
loving
but too afraid to show it.

He is
hurt

He is
a poet.

Every choice has a result,

Choose positivity for positive

results,

Answers only dull the senses.
Even right answers
often make what they explain
uninteresting. Not knowing
provides a reason to live.

   ~mce

I've been writing poetry for about thirty years now.
I have notebooks upon note books filled with many thoughts, storys and so called lessons.
Scribbles collected on stationery, box topps and restaurant napkins.
Many lost or thrown away, as I used the napkins to blow my nose when I had the flu.
I wrote poetry in my younger years
In 24 hour diners and when I wasn't to hung over to go to school.
Sadly though most of those lessons are gone to be forgotten, in dump grounds of Parma Ohio  Set in the city's ground engraved on old desk topps and tables are these thoughts. Slowly fading, like my mind, slowly detererating more each year.
I've been writing poetry for about thirty years now. I haven't accomplished a thing accept carpal tunnel and a repetive mind. Collecting and capturing my thoughts really made me see how little I think, how repetitive I really am.
Collecting and capturing these thoughts, prose and so called lessons, really accomplished not a thing.
A bunch of notebooks, loose papers and dried out pens.
Maybe there is an accomplishment from this mess, maybe it has helped me see I am a hoarder and can't let go of any of my thoughts.
Although they are all the same, just rearranged according to the day, I still think they mean something. "If something was nothing, I would be rich."
Glancing back at thirty years of beer soaked ******* and coffee stained sobbing really gives one a new perspective of how deranged life really can be.
So I'll pack another 20 sticks,  smoke faster then I breathe and write a new "profound" thought from this epiphany .

" I do not fear the night time,
no, my fear is much beyond that,
I fear the darkness within my soul -
the unrecognisable face in the mirror. "