The feeling of morals and values dwindling
Step by step
As the minutes go by
My mind working strenuous
Trying to forget the past
Decisions I've made
Lose significance
Suppressed by decisions as bad
Maybe worse
Trapped into a facade of being perfect
The need of breaking out
Showing off the
Abysses deep within my soul
Not able to patch that hole
No love in this world
Seems to be strong enough
Stop forcing me to be perfect
I'm not, neither do I want to be
When the night begins
I leave my perfect mask at home
Two sides within the same soul
Two sides of the same coin
Tonight the dark is taking over
Beware...

I'm trying to be a good poet
Using powerful and beautiful words
A scheme looking like art
I have seen it many times
The truth is
I'm not there yet
My journey has just started
Words are not as easy to find
Writers block
The sickness of a poet
Too often leaves me struggling
The appearance of my poems dull
Without much creativity it seems
Yet every kind response
Everyone that takes the time
To read and leave a nice comment
I shall say thank you
It may be a long way to go
But you show me
I'm on the right path

Last night I had this dream
A dream engrained in my mind
I dreamed about you girl
I finally saw you again
After all these years
Spinning you around
As we danced on the streets
Kissing your soft lips
Seeing your beautiful smile
Holding you close
As I once used to
A dream showing me
What we once had
What will never be the same
A thorn inside
Piercing my heart
Sharp pain
Bittersweet memories...

The lighting of streets' corners -
Even those corners that hitherto were dark and unwelcoming.
As the sunset bleeds
on the city's disappearing silhouette.

The shimmering traffic;
The blares of multiple cars as they try to rush home.
As windows smile brightly to passersby.
The return of Santa Claus!


The holiday seasons,
Winter to the snow laden,
Harmattan to the arid lands.
Chilly on all sides.

The warmth of the fireplace,
The joy of the days to come.
The jingles of merry bells.
The bright lights of Christmas trees.

A reminder that all of humanity can still be happy.
That there is still hope.
That we can share in each other's joy.
And always be there for each other.

Where you are
I am
Where its far
Distant, I need your best friendship.
I'm heavy on your demand,
There by your side
As your bride
Who
Will do
All.

There is humidity in the air
The clouds melting together,
Blocking out the sun
The wind is getting stronger
As I'm sitting on the front porch
Drops of water like tears
Dripping from the sky
The rain in all it's might
Trying to wash away
All of our mistakes
All of our pain
The question is
Will it be enough?

Christmas is love in action.
Everytime we give or love
its Christmas

When we offer a hand
to a neighbor or friend,
or show kindness to a stranger

It means so much more,
than any present...
It makes you feel all warm inside

That warmth is passed to those you touch,
and from there it grows and spreads

like pixie dust.
Its the best time of year...
Love is the air,
the spirit of giving,
being nice and
spending time with your family & friends.

*The most precious gift you can give
or receive doesn't come from a
box beneath the Christmas tree,
it comes from within a loving heart.

I found her
Kissing her knees
Cupping her neck
Gasping to feel a pulse
Nails bitten to the core
Spewing profanities
About how everyday ends on a cliffhanger
She stood slowly
Defiantly
Tiny and dainty
Hair a messy mane
A lioness
Concealed beneath layers of indifference
Her hands trembled
And her body swayed
I won't beg she growled
Feral and wild
As though her lips were not a flat line like that on a heartbeat monitor
She reminds me of what it felt like to be betrayed
And what it felt like to be loved
She made me want to get involved in something I no longer believe in
I am a cathedral of deadbolts
And she made me want to change the locks

Following the waving trees, 
the same direction as the breeze, 
as if a thermal element 
was wafted with my gait,

as blown along beside the river, 
downstream with it's flow, 
I felt a kind of impetus, 
impulsive like a joy, 
that grabs the psyche, 
swings the spirit in high gear,

a thrill of moving onward 
through the day and year, 
as if time were anonymous 
and I a mere convolvulous, 
that happened to be flowering today.

Ann Waddicor August 2013.

Ask anyone and most would tell you
They'd love to travel
See the world
Visit foreign countries
Is that the dream?
Never call a place your home
Constantly moving, meeting new people
But you'll never open your heart completely
Think twice before you leave
Your sweet little hometown

T’was the night before Christmas
And in his outhouse
Sat Ja quietly listening        
To waltz’s, by Strauss.
(Really, he was leafing thru Penthouse)

The ******* was fitted
With all manner of lights
That couldn’t be missed
No matter what heights

When up on the roof
There arose such a clatter
Ja, kicked open the door
To see what was the matter

So there sat Ja
With his pants pulled down
His *** in a hole
On his forehead, a frown

He leaped up so quickly
Through the doorway to pass
Tripped over his pants
And fell on his ***

Then flat on his back
His bare *** in the snow
He looked up to see
The roof all aglow

Poor Santa had landed                        
On that, small, sloped roof
But there wasn’t enough room
For sleigh, and each tiny hoof

Ja had decorated everything
So the outhouse, shone bright
And Santa mistook it
When he arrived that night

The reindeer slid off
Were hanging by their straps
And Santa had saved them
By grabbing, the roof *****

Poor Rudolph fell the farthest
Boy, was his nose beaming
Just then, losing his grip
Santa started screaming

Fly Dancer, fly *****
Fly Donner, fly Blitzen
Don’t let me fall into
This ****, Ja was fixin

Then just like magic
They started to float
And Santa, raising his fist
Did this warning shout
              
Be very careful old man
I’ll get you some day
Stay alert Christmas Eve
Don’t get in my way

Now, each Christmas Eve
Ja, won’t step foot out that door
Cause he knows Santa is waiting
To even the score
BOEMS BY JA 18

Stuck in an ending timeline;

whispers of love, the humourless cheer.

Taunts that appear to be laughing, at me;

a commoner's jeer.



I saw you,

then I wanted you.

my want became a need;

and my need is now the focus of all my deed(s).



What else is left to say,

should I mourn my bereavement

or laugh at my own foolishness?

do i love or let this ache i suffer for you eat at me forever?