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 Nov 2013 Yates
martin
Wife needed
 Nov 2013 Yates
martin
Paddy's faithful workhorse
It broke down by the gate
And he had forty acres
To plough and cultivate

Paddy lived all alone
Now that was a fact
So he wrote an advert
Somewhat lacking tact

WIFE REQUIRED URGENTLY
A MOST IMPORTANT FACTOR
IS THAT THE APPLICANT
SHOULD POSSESS A TRACTOR
AGE UNIMPORTANT, COLOUR DOESN'T MATTER
PLEASE ENCLOSE WITH REPLY PHOTO
OF SAID TRACTOR
thanks to Craig Parsons for the inspiration
 Nov 2013 Yates
Elizabeth Squires
Sun
this morn in my part of the world
the sky is brighter than a blue eyed girl
it radiates a beaming smile
all over our country miles

we're bathing in a stream of blue light
tis truly a beautiful sight
our landscape blessed with a golden decor
we couldn't ask for anything more
 Nov 2013 Yates
Elizabeth Squires
I'm no good at writing poetry
so this flop shall find another hobby
words aren't where my talents lie
so I'm kissing the world of poetry goodbye

there will be no one missing my crap
they'll be pleased that I've turned off the tap
my writing desk shall be thrown out
for I'll not want it hanging about

my creative mind can take a long rest
as I'll no longer be at a stanza's behest
the writing game has lost it's appeal
crook poets like myself must get real

composition offerings shall cease to-day
as one is putting one's pick permanently away
the end has most assuredly turned up
it is time for me to finally pack up
 Nov 2013 Yates
Olivia Kent
Ambulance chased harsh tragedy.
Took the young man home
Beep beep, crash.
Paddles without a boat.
Asystole.. gone gone gone.
Cadaver gave donation.
Thank you.
Bless his holy soul.
Pray may he rest in peace.


The diseased heart of the sad man beats.
Hammers a struggle every day.
Called in.
In a mighty dash.

Prepared for transplantation.
Of this wonderful donation.
Once alive cadaver renewed.
Invigorated.
Life lacking quality.
Was given quantity.

Once deceased heart beats on in another.
Released to live and breathe again.
Was much too young to die.

Four chambers full with emotion blooming.
The heart transplanted was that of a lover.
A poet.
The beating heart beat at a ton.
The battle won.
A tad too fast, but built to last.


The worthless one with no value.
Picked up a pen to write.
Poems of power flowed to the sea.
Up the mountains over the trees.
Strange enthusiasm.
Never before felt.
The hard cold man began to melt.

The victim of tragedy.
Left legacy.
Wholly unexpected.
The once was poet.
Renewed his heart.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
 Nov 2013 Yates
soul in torment
Even...

her heated temper

makes our love

all the

stronger
Steel is heated and tempered by a blacksmith to be shaped and strengthened
 Nov 2013 Yates
berry
Derelict
 Nov 2013 Yates
berry
'CONDEMNED' screams the offensive yellow tape
wrapped around my door like an angry snake

I'm a crumbling abandoned city apartment
and the letters of your name can be found carved into my scattered bricks.

The memories we shared were sweet,
but you've moved on now. To a newer part of town,
all gaudy gold and glowing neon and soulless silver.

Even though you're hypnotized by its fraudulent shine
I wonder whether you remember
the love and mortar that once held us together.

For these walls still stand tall
through countless stormy nights, scorching days and freezing evenings.
But I don't know how much longer I can last.

Because my very foundations were made with your smile in mind,
and they are sinking into the mire now that we are forced to stand alone.

But what need to you have for such antiquated architecture?
I have been replaced. Your new home is far prettier.
More efficient.

Even still, I hang on by crossbeams and rotting wooden studs
and hope that you will find your way back
to the home I forged for you here in my arms.

I rot and moulder in solitude
the memories that echo in my hallowed halls
the only comforts that keep me from collapse.

Far too proud to admit, though I'm sure
you see the bitterness of your absence
eating away at me like termites.

The lord only knows how I'd like to feel your feet
upon my wooden floors again,
but who am I to even dare to ask?

For now I am just a house
no longer a home
vacant
and alone
patiently waiting to be made whole again.


- r.j. & m.f.
this is a collaborative poem written by myself and my good friend ray (hellopoetry.com/-raymond-johnson)
 Nov 2013 Yates
Graced Lightning
Most people have scars that run in
perfectly
              straight
                           lines
                     but
             mine
        are
hopelessly crooked
because
I hated myself too much
to be that careful

I hacked at the paper-white skin
that was my wrist
and drew
               thin
                      red
                           lines
that didn't seem to know
where they were going
or even where they wanted to go

Today
when I touch them
the pain is still
                        so
                            raw
­                        so
                  real
I can almost feel the tears
rushing down my face
and onto my arms,
mixing with the blood
trying in vain to heal me

When my arms were open
I didn't see blood
I saw
         hurt
                hopelessness
                               ­      fear
                                           insecurity
                               despair
                      doubt
              pain
       hate
anger
The pain is hidden
underneath the layers of skin
that rushed to cover the ones
that I had pierced through
but sometimes
I think
           it
              might
                         still
                                be
                        ­              there
all the horrific details of my cutting...may be triggering
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