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The wind blows freely in the air,
as I sit and relax without a care--
Underneath a huge canopy of silk,
while munching on treats as I drink milk.

It floats and captures the breezy day,
this backyard canopy of yesterday--
Mother left it to me when she passed,
and now the memories always last.

A rainbow streaks across the sky,
catching moments coming from on high--
While I recall my days as a child,
when this canopy flowed, free and wild.

The summer sun is rising above,
as I'm cooled under the canopy of love--
A childlike vision comes into sight,
with mother holding my hand so tight.
 Jul 1
rick
I watch her apply creams and lotions to her face through the steamed glass of the shower door before lathering, rinsing off and stepping out.

she greets me at the bathmat with a towel,
then towels me off and flashes me the most
beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I smile back,
feeling more understood and less misconstrued as she pats and wipes the beads of water away.

it’s moments like these that can make a man
crumble into submission, capturing the quick
glimpses of the joy and the gentle peace from
another beautiful soul when there’s so much
terror, fame & corruption reigning down in
this misbegotten world.

we stand there facing one another

we don’t have to be anybody
we don’t have to be anyplace
we don’t have to worry about anything
we can just simply enjoy each other’s company

looking deep into the eyes
she caresses my beard
she understands me
she takes care of me

& it’s nice to be taken of
especially after a lifetime
of taking care of yourself

I stand there feeling the good times pass
as she dries my ***** with this
lucratively warm towel.
first poem I wrote about my Vietnamese lady friend
 Jun 30
Nat Lipstadt
I asked a woman to change her curls to forever straight,
and offered $50,000

(a sum on my mind that day after a
particularly rough day trading),
incentive
to maintain said style in
eternal perpetuity

she has accomodated me now for over a decade+, but
every every, every now
and every then, She pulls me
closer than close,
whispers 50K~ok!,
and hits me with a
hockey checking
an enforcer's hip swaying
pow,
that be
her physio~verbal
hockey stick reminder,
that poets must always pay their debts,
and even
forever, eternal and perpetuity
are included!
&
have no legal  limitations
or
poetic exemptions


nor,
credit,
for time
served

🥴
true story
 Jun 26
Shadows
Your chair stays untouched
I still set a second plate
Grief eats next to me.
 Jun 26
Lynn Stillman
Your voice, haunting
A dark forest in the night,
rooted in legend.
For the first time in a decade
I felt seen
I felt held
His warmth takes my darkest thoughts away.
He held me close as i try to get away
I want to stay
But i just felt too much of a betray

I got overwhelmed and scared
Not because i dont want to
But because again i'm scared  

His warmth made me hang on a little bit longer than i desired
Is it only because i felt admired?
Or maybe because its been slong time since i wanted life to be a desire

Is this temporary?
Would this go down in flames  
Would this fade away?
All i see are traitors  on the way.
Forgive me if i pull away
Forgive me if i don't stay

I want to be with u and be held again maybe a little longer this time.
Maybe consider it as a goodbye for the last time?
I promise i wasnt born like this
I was built brick by brick to be like this

Guarded like a vault
I promise its not my fault.

If i let my guard down would u vow to stay?
I promise u this time i won't hide my emotions i'll display.

i want u to fulfill this condition
never i to be abandoned
nor to be left stranded

This is my last trial
And if  if it backfires
I will finally let go as i desire

-Not A Poet-Just Struggling
 Jun 24
sandra wyllie
like a fitted cotton sheet
tucked inside the hall closet,
stacked neat on the
bottom with the pillow

cases. She spread out
like a butterfly emerging
from her chrysalis and flew
off into the distance. I watched

her airborne. And I stood forlorn
at how she unfolded. I liked her
tight and molded when I had her
in my hand. But she had her

plans. I was rooted to
my yard like the big oak tree,
stripped of leaves in winter,
with bark splintered. She

unfolded like a picnic blanket on
a sunny day. People gathered
to eat and drink and celebrate. And I
was not invited. I sat nil and slighted.
 Jun 23
Daniel Tucker
When it seems as though
The human coil is unravelling
And we have peaked
Our REM of creativity
And we seem awash
In half-baked positive negativity
And the whole world seems
To be drowning in self-induced sleep
While even the watchers
Seem to have both eyes closed...

Turn this thing around
And open bloodshot eyes.
Stop your own unravelling
And delve deeper into creativity.
Strengthen the bonds of your own
Exclusive and non-exclusive spheres.
Allow your peaceful world to dawn
Even though the outside world drowns
In its own exclusive and non-exclusive pool of fears.
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