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It's only real when you lose

It's unreal when you win

When I was young I had growing pains

Someone said I was just growing up too fast

When she says ,"can we be friends"

What she means can we forget the past

And I've found that where it breaks

Is where everything begins to bend

So if you dig me up from under the better part of me

Remember we once dug each other
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=wYm9BPuFTz0&si=E5NEzA6EBmT2JTIn
Engineering to the Bridge:

"Time passed, but without us. A bit like Kepler's third, I suppose."

Express your "law" another way. Throw rocks at the moon. Stone the satellite because of your own despicable sins.

I see demise in your face. There's something strange about the through lines of your crew, the yellow journalism of their spacewalk.

Posters of the wild frontier, staggered and torn, said nothing will go wrong. That sometimes death is merely the devil changing colors.

"I think not, Captain. You laugh when you should cry. You tear to pieces the pictures of the overtaken. You run from the lie detectors. Otherwise, your narrative falls apart and all you're left with is your withered mind funneling down a ****** abyss..."
Perfect morning scene
Full quality of light
Fruit tree flowers flush
So very pink against
A sky so very blue

Honey jasmine air
Star petals frosty white
Burning bottle brush
with scarlet flames not quenched
by glinting candy dew

Leaves drink up the sun
See all the clocks
In all the trees
Sense shifting balance favour
less the nighttme, more the day

Triumphant feeling flows
The equinox
In quiet passing
Led to colours loudly telling
that the light will have its way


Impossible despair
When nature shines like this
Warming every part
From gloomy winter shade
To hibernating cheer

A message penned in glow
Unable to resist
Thaws the chilly heart
Where sprouting joy is made
And bliss is running clear

Less the nighttime, more the day
The light will have its way

Now spring is here
Happy spring to those in the southern hemisphere!
Young or old,
poetry is for all.
Some write soft,
some write bold,
sometimes cold.
Yet they are all
treasures like gold,
never to be sold.
I wanna be the villain
who starts chillin
the friend
who don't drink and drive
the guy
who attend a party
and makes you feel alive
I wanna be
the layman
who says amen
I wanna be
all of the above
because I've got you Babe
totally in love.
kisses.
feel them
the tension and aliveness
they’re loaded with psychology and social context

its an intense observation
mouths connect our inner and outer worlds
they cross the exterior-interior divide
they’re simple forms of passion and expression
but they’re drastic and emphatic

I wrestle with wildness
I desire less breathing room, less layering
I riot with instinctive response
I long to obliterate feminine’ restraint
and share inner experience
.
.
A song for this:
Only Love Can Break Your Heart by Saint Etienne
Fly Into Your Arms (a cappella) by X-Cetra
As Above So Below by Fievel Is Glauque
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 09/29/25:
obliterate  = to destroy completely so that nothing is left

*I'm not talking a 'faire la bise' here - I'm talking about a lose your breath and poise, exchange ****** fluid, get a room kind of kiss.
a ballet of light
weaves golden threads
across the canvas of night.

the fabric of soul and sky
elusive dancers

wonder    alive at the edge of eternity

unspoken poetry breathed in my sigh
words elusive, alive within

beauty poetry
poetry        breathed in my sigh???

words elusive

a tear that never fell
shimmering in twilight

left me searching
a shadow running from the sun
I was sat at the front of the cast iron horse
and with Tom and his sister and Nicky behind
we had rocked till the plaything went hight as we could
when it smacked on my jaw with its hard metal head.

An incisors had cut through my lip, and so blood
freely flowed from my mouth to my chin, where it paused,
and then dropped on the crown of the dangerous nag,
dripping sticky and red on the skull of our steed.

Soon my daddy had  lifted me up from that mount
and we drove to the doctor’s to suture my lip
where a needle was painfully pulled through my skin
and it felt as though cables were stitching my gob.

                                  â€“––

Did our play in my youth, though unsafe, have more thrill
than does zipping on wires over bark covered ground
or the climbing of ropes that are hung from a pole
and of swaying with swings that don’t go all around?

Every age has its dangers, unique to itself,
and so children will always find dangerous fun,
though as parents we worry as much as ours did,
now the  playgrounds are safer whatever we fear.
Another story from my childhood.  With Peter Bowron's help the poem is now in anapestic tetrameter. This better captures the rocking motion of the horse.


The Original version is below with a da DUM da da DUM da da DUM da da DUM meter (iamb followed by three anapaests )

I sat at the front of the cast iron horse
with Tom and his sister and Nicky behind.
We rocked till the plaything went high as it could
when smack on my jaw went its hard metal head.

Incisors had cut through my lip, and so blood
flowed down from my mouth to my chin, then it gushed
and dropped on the crown of the dangerous nag,
so sticky and red on the skull of our steed.

My daddy then lifted me up from that mount
and drove to the doctor to suture my cut:
the needle was painfully pulled through my skin
it felt as though cables were stitching my gob.

                                â€“––

Did play in my youth, though unsafe, have more thrill
than zipping on wires over ground swathed with bark,
and climbing on ropes that are hung from a pole,
or swaying on swings that don’t go all around?

Each age has its dangers, unique to itself,
and children will always find dangerous fun,
so parents still worry as much as they did,
but playgrounds are safer, whatever they fear.
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