The Magnolia Tree – a poem

It was under the Magnolia tree, He loved me, And our children played, All three, (and then four, five), And the puppies leapt high, Under the Magnolia tree. We’d sit and talk for hours, Under the Magnolia tree, Butterflies & dreams & wishes, And she’d listen, Our beautiful old tree. The seasons came & went, more

Poets Are A Weird Mob:

I get up before the sun, And before the household, So I can write poems for you, It comes out of my fingers. In reams. One day when I finally meet you, I will give them to you and, Unless you are a poet, You may not understand, The significance. You’ll hand them back, And more

Divine Retribution:

She doesn’t know where he is, What he’s doing or who he’s with, She only knows the ache for him, She only knows that now he’s Just another statistic: His life turned to ashes, The moment he hurt her, (She had the garage door down, And the engine was running), He’s the fifth one now more

35 was my lucky number:

Maybe it was time to go back, She knew he would be there waiting for her, But then she remembered his emotional betrayal, She hadn’t rekindled their connection for that! She was trying to improve her life, Not to take a step back.   There are silent battles and steep hills, But she’s spread-eagled on more

Of Ponds & Balmy Nights:

He approves of almost everything about her,

And enjoys being her hero,

So when she says she needs time,

To concentrate on her relationship with her,

He holds her so tightly that it almost hurts,

She knows he’ll always be there if she changes her mind,

“Don’t sit by the pond without me, particularly on those balmy nights!”

He will anyway,

She knows it.

 

When God Doesn’t Exist:

Hedonists will reason, Hedonists will talk, They’ll let you know, You’re not the thing, If you exercise or walk.   They’ll try to get you drunk, And they’ll try to drug your drink, They don’t have children of their own, But they’ll tell you what they think.   The first to point out all your more

Little Boy Lost:

My little brother, Lost at sea, My little brother, Come back to me, Where could he have gone? Where could he be? He’s knocked out with amnesia, All these years; ten and three, (and not eaten by sharks after all), Or faked his own death maybe, Swim little brother, Swim home to me! Or maybe more

The song of the Plovers:

A song for this poem: Youth by Daughter from the film A Long Way Down   Everything was tender now, everything, The song of the night time Plovers, Kicked things up an extra notch, She noted the heightened sense of awareness, “Ah, I’m almost dead now,” she reassures herself, She’s so sure of it, She more

The Long & Winding Road

It’s so important not, To look a gift horse in the mouth, So when she said, She could help her, She was quite delighted, “I will integrate all of your splits,” My oh my! But she pushes down her hope, She swallows it, Because Black Swans only think, They are Black Swans, And Ugly Ducklings more

Internet Lovers IIII

I get to the mornings,

And the poison leaks away from the black nights,

If I really loved myself,

I wouldn’t keep putting myself through this,

But there’s this hope

That what we have transcends all,

Does it?

I’m not sure my mirror will keep lying,

And so I wait . . .

girl mirrir