Let Everyone Hear Your Poetry
https://open.substack.com/pub/lizdoyle/p/great-mountain?r=fibbn&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post
Hi Aug thanks for liking my poem happy to be part of the upcoming publication.
It’s Meant to be a Heartache
I miss you
but I will never tell you
because there’s no us
Your smile on my mind
I play it in rewind
The things I wish could be
Would you hear my plea?
Your voice in my sleep
takes me to the deep
The things I’ll do to you
Something I can’t pursue
I like you
but I can never tell you
or perhaps I just did
I miss her touch her face that glow’s like a dream it was real
Her silky blonde hair that blows through the air like an ocean breeze on the beach
I’ve been in dark places for many a years and pulled into places where I’d rather not have been
I dream of the day I can hug my family and friends
I love you son
I miss the beach walking bare feet and the waves continue to cool my heart
Walk with me please
Encounter.
I met the greatest poet in the world -
Who masquerades behind his persona
A man within a man, who lifts words -
As a bodybuilder strains to raise
The last new ounce. He had no smile.
The last time we met it was explosive -
Two smoking guns, wavering faint light
Signals across a horizon. Shells fell.
At times: words can kill you. Heaviness.
Stones on the graves left by relationships.
2020 rosalind.j.lee
Writing Myself Back Alive
I look to the cracks of a crescent moon
for reassurance, for an unadulterated
comfort that will break the plate of
guilt that has formed itself around my
soul. I can fix the gaudy chips with a
stern ire and rocket-fuelled fire that
propels me into the molten core of
truth. I will not waver for droogs
or the ruth…less. I will stand strong
in the face of those who do me wrong.
Writing myself back alive is my kind
of revenge—a dish best served wordy.
I am a firecracker. I am a hurricane
with an all-seeing eye cloaked in a
bog of smoke. Feel my wrath like an
ulcer taking refuge in your throat.
You will not shoot me down. You
will not give me a crown and expect
me not to wear it. I will write myself back
alive, and your knife will take a nosedive.
https://open.substack.com/pub/lizdoyle/p/great-mountain?r=fibbn&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post
Hi Aug thanks for liking my poem happy to be part of the upcoming publication.
It’s Meant to be a Heartache
I miss you
but I will never tell you
because there’s no us
Your smile on my mind
I play it in rewind
The things I wish could be
Would you hear my plea?
Your voice in my sleep
takes me to the deep
The things I’ll do to you
Something I can’t pursue
I like you
but I can never tell you
or perhaps I just did
I miss her touch her face that glow’s like a dream it was real
Her silky blonde hair that blows through the air like an ocean breeze on the beach
I’ve been in dark places for many a years and pulled into places where I’d rather not have been
I dream of the day I can hug my family and friends
I love you son
I miss the beach walking bare feet and the waves continue to cool my heart
Walk with me please
Encounter.
I met the greatest poet in the world -
Who masquerades behind his persona
A man within a man, who lifts words -
As a bodybuilder strains to raise
The last new ounce. He had no smile.
The last time we met it was explosive -
Two smoking guns, wavering faint light
Signals across a horizon. Shells fell.
At times: words can kill you. Heaviness.
Stones on the graves left by relationships.
2020 rosalind.j.lee
Writing Myself Back Alive
I look to the cracks of a crescent moon
for reassurance, for an unadulterated
comfort that will break the plate of
guilt that has formed itself around my
soul. I can fix the gaudy chips with a
stern ire and rocket-fuelled fire that
propels me into the molten core of
truth. I will not waver for droogs
or the ruth…less. I will stand strong
in the face of those who do me wrong.
Writing myself back alive is my kind
of revenge—a dish best served wordy.
I am a firecracker. I am a hurricane
with an all-seeing eye cloaked in a
bog of smoke. Feel my wrath like an
ulcer taking refuge in your throat.
You will not shoot me down. You
will not give me a crown and expect
me not to wear it. I will write myself back
alive, and your knife will take a nosedive.