More along the lines
of my loneliness discord,
I stepped into the crime
of a *****, painful sword.

Too many closing doors,
and sorrow always there,
a memory has flood the moors
of my eyes a-brim with tears.

We have watched the sacred clock,
tick-tocking away delight,
yet never understood the shock
that something was not quite right.

Tomorrow's now never hoped for,
yesterday's a shattered dream,
we now crouch behind a closed, locked door,
and in silence loudly scream.

long ago,
leaving me to weak to yell,
i
saw a single stone laying in the dust
along the road.
Taken by its
loneliness,
i
reached
down
to pick it up,
placed it
crying
inside my left breast-pocket
without
an angry word,
(or none)
as the world
imploded
from within my
empty soul
and the birds
above
had ceased to
sing.

dconors  love  know  sweet  like  time  day  want  eyes  hands  kiss  just  deep  tears  long  left  heart  slowly  night  look  lips  hair  horner  ol  air

From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave  my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from  the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_______
The original poem:
  
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Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe

it's a
tear-
drop
this time

you
can't have it,
it's
all mine

not
many left,
but you'll
be fine.

tear-
drop
all gone,
now dry...

it's going to be
so easy to do what i have
got
to do
when i do
it
since knowing
that doing what
i am going'
to do
won't matter
to you

(or anyone else for very long, anyway)

which makes
it
easy
to do,

soon.

i may never
see you
or be
with you,
i
will always
love you.

never forget that.

with no one to talk to
and
no plan as to where i should go,
i fall into a listless,
waking slumber
and
feel covered up in cold.

It saddens me when there is no time for poems,
When life just gets in the way,
I will stop writing them for a while,
But I'll start again one day...

There once was a poet called D,
stopped in with some strange poetry,
he began to write,
caused a pub-room fight,
then fled the scene with mad glee!

nothing on earth
could brighten the dooryard
of my studio,
like your shining face....

Rise & shine,
I'm online...kisses good morning
...you look so fine!

(Loving you is grand it seems,
I love you more than cheesy
poetry.)

i think about you all day long
no matter
how soft the thought
or dear sweet the song...