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a beautiful face
fades with the decades
there’s no beauty compared to what we hide
cushioned and treasured inside-


the tears we’ve cried
the people who’ve died
the times we’ve tried
the dreams we’ve aspired
the friends we’ve carried-


a beautiful personality
lasts for eternity
26 letters arranged and rearranged
when don’t form poetry can drive you deranged

when work they form tales
that can your senses assail

they take you to a different place
and bring out emotions you can’t trace

they can make you smile, cry and laugh
the power in a few paragraphs

they can move you to the depths of your soul
thats the magic of the poets role
Thy quill hath become somewhat weary
Writing poems daily without any respite
On the bullet casing one shall now bite
A break away to restore thy energy
Vigor hath drained to a very low point
Penning poetic lines so exhausting
Time out is required for recharging
Thy quill's black ink doth not want to anoint
Within the next day or so I'll return
Feeling more refreshed and full of vim
Thy cannot keep pouring words on a page
Of late the candle hath done a high burn
Thy powers to write are becoming dim
To have a session of rest is most sage
Deep breath,
One step.
I smile,
Good progress.

Rude comments,
unfair comparisons,
Two steps back,
throwing me off track.

Sharp objects,
pains gone,
meals skipped,
"Nothing's wrong."
I used to say that it was my passion.
But now I'm not so sure.
It used to come so easily,
like the wind blowing through the trees.
But, as time goes on.
I realize that all along,
I was wrong.
As A Ship Sails The Cool Blue Of The Waves,
You Held Me Close And Rocked Me To Sleep,
And As Blue Grass Caresses My Bare Skin,
You Smooth My Hair And Kiss Me Goodnight

As The Birds Whistle In The Earliest Of Sunrises,
You Awake Me To The Presence Of An Angel,
You, Mother, Are An Angel

As You Gave Me The Fire Which Lives In My Veins,
Mother Earth Put A Rhythm Into My Heart,
And As You Gave Me The Sight Of Day,
Mother Earth Gave Me The Crisp Yellow Of The Sun

And As Your Mother Gave You Life On This Day,
An Angel Was Brought To Save This World,
And Just As The May Flower Led The People,
You Are Leading Me

*With Petals Soft As Chiffon,
And A Heart Of Yellow Gold,
You Out Shine Every Color,
For You Are The Most Beautiful,
Of Every Single Flower
Happy Birthday, Mom.. You Are So Special To Me<3 Your Heartbeat Is One Of The Most Beautiful Songs The World Has Ever Known..
 May 2013 LD Goodwin
Raj Arumugam
Now
I posted a poem or two
which grabbed the eyes
of a dozen or so
like glue;
but now I’d like someone to tell me
what I should do

1
I mean,
I got a few followers, right…
“Latenight ****** started following you”
said the notice from the website;
and: “ Moonface at Window started following you”
but I got no comments from the followers
so I have no idea what sort of people they are -
and now, hey, I’m so afraid of all these followers
(these Moonies and Loonies)
I constantly look back over my shoulders
to see if they are following me
And everywhere I go
every other person looks so sus
and when I’m out
(wont to water more often, as it happens at my age)
I visit public toilets (McDonald’s is often cleanest)
and I get this feeling
(deep down in me)
my followers are hiding
in the ceiling
watching me
dadadidado –
But please, O don’t look down on me!

And the rest of you decent people -
will you please tell me what to  dadadidado?


2
And look,
I got all these likes -
which is good, right?
“Pimply Whanker liked this”
“***** TouchBottom liked this”
is all it says
And don’t you hate it
when they don’t leave a comment? –
And now, I’ll never know
what it is they liked…


Can someone fix me right -
what should I dadadidado??
...no malice intended...just good-intentioned humour...Remember -  the world comes to an end, when poets lose their sense of humour...please feel free to "like", to "follow" and if you wish, as the politicians say: "No comments..."
As The Sun Breaks Through,
The Grey Veils Of The Morning,
She Was Born Again
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