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 Jul 2016 Tia White
Bianca Reyes
I swear ink runs through my veins
A piece of paper passes as my heart
I hold your hand like a pen
Press it against my chest to feel
Every beat leaves a word written upon it
Endless poems and prose
You inspire even when you're gone
Shared  on Hello Poetry on July 14, 2016
Copyright © 2016 Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
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Enjoy

Wow!!!  Getting the opportunity to have this poem be recognized as a Daily really means so much to me.  Thank you to everyone who has shown some love.   You're all amazing. Love is amazing and more of it should be spread  throughout the world!
 Jul 2016 Tia White
Poetria
Another fight against
Another thoughtful night.

Another sleepless plight.
Another hour to hide.
Another day to realise.

There's so many things
that aren't right
in this life.

Another mug of coffee;
The burn against my palms.

Another night to choose.
Another choice of harm.

Another aching heart,
Another thoughtless write.

Another failed attempt
at spilling grains of truth
from my mind.
I feared the addiction.
 Jul 2016 Tia White
Stephan
.

I collected my fears in a jar,
set them on the window sill and
watched as the sun melted them
into a mass of gelatinous doubt

Then spread them on my toast
and consumed them -  
before they consumed me
 Jul 2016 Tia White
Stephan
.

Blinded by a
Lack of leadership
Alone on a silent
Corner watching
Kindness take
A back seat as
Needless prejudice
Drives hate
Why does it always
Have to be
Insisted that we
Take sides,
Either…or
 Jul 2016 Tia White
AK93
If you cannot tame the beast, he will have to be put down.
We cannot let this monster run rampant, he'll destroy our entire town.
We've tried talking him out of it, told him that what he wants will not be found.
We've tried to show him reason, told him truth that he longs to get around.
We've tried to offer him compromise, told him he can sleep safe and sound.
But nothing we've tried has worked, so it's time we put him in the ground.
 Jul 2016 Tia White
Stephan
.

Riding the back of a tiger shark sinking
Crossing an ocean that’s barren and dry
Surfing on waves that the net hasn’t captured
Wondering what a sand dollar will buy

Chasing a thought that I just forgot thinking
Vacuuming memories under the seat
Blowing the horn when its allergy season
Sneezing and sneezing and sneezing, repeat

Singing a song just to bother Bon Jovi
Shot through the heart but not casting the blame
Shaving my head like a rock star gone crazy
Asking the barber to sell me his name

Eating a waffle that’s flat as a pancake
Bathing in syrup a soft maple shade
Cutting a class while the lawns overgrowing
Making a bed that is already made

Changing the tune of a microwave oven
Turning the **** till volume is loud
Watching it spin like a Rolling Stone’s album
Yelling at them to get off of my cloud

Falling asleep throughout Hillary speaking
Leaving a tip but not waking the Bill
Telling the waiter he looks like my brother
Blushing when he says I can call him Jill

(Okay, I know this is getting quite lengthy
Let's take a break for a minute or three
Just enough time to head off to the kitchem
Go pour yourself a nice hot cup of tea)


Squeezing an orange while lemons are striking
Crossing a picket line out in red ink
Finding that permanent means until Tuesday
Seen through a highlighter glowing in pink

Climbing a mountain in old worn old dress shoes
Hurting my feet, it has taken its toll
Wait, not a mountain I meant to say Motown
Moving much better now that I’ve got soul

I figure by now you must think I am crazy
Based on the verses up there and much more
The truth of the matter is I’m kind of lazy
I’ve used this same style of poem before

And just like the others this ends in affection
Regardless of what I have written above
You'll find my poems are fueled by desire
Written for somebody special I love

So if I say the sun whispers in crayons
A basset hound’s bark is as rough as a tree
Piano keys will not unlock Beethoven
Then all I really am hoping you’ll see

Is how she makes me act goofy and silly
Using some phrases that seem quite askew
And why I’m sitting here writing this poem
So she will know that my love will be true
 Jul 2016 Tia White
Keith Wilson
And  when  his  usefulness  had  gone.
They  just  cast  him  aside.
And  on  the  final  downhill.
He  began  to  slide.

Rejected  after  all  his  work.
Visions  now  all  gone.
He  knew  full  well  his  time  was  near.
He  knew  he  had  not  long.

As  an  old  man  disillusioned.
And  weary  from  his  fight.
He  spent  in  sad  remembrance.
His  final  lonely  night.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.
Troublesome love . . .

will not let you sleep . . .

Sort of like a basketball game . . .

Questions are bounced mad and furiously
against the hard wood floor with only
more questions bouncing back .

Meanwhile someone is trying to steal
your dreams causing you to twist and turn distorting your image .

And you fight your way down
the court of life and toss your hopes and
dreams into the air and pray to God . . .
go in.
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