I Will Wait a Lifetime for You
You hide behind your feelings
and keep the truth locked away,
but there is so much said
in the things you don’t say
You innocently tell me
our time has come and gone
and that we can’t go back
but I don’t believe it
and this time you’re wrong
and keep the truth locked away,
but there is so much said
in the things you don’t say
You innocently tell me
our time has come and gone
and that we can’t go back
but I don’t believe it
and this time you’re wrong
The distance you put between us
is nothing more than time lost;
a place for your feelings to hide,
yet I can hear the love in your voice
each time we talk
is nothing more than time lost;
a place for your feelings to hide,
yet I can hear the love in your voice
each time we talk
My patience has no end
when it comes to loving you
and I will wait a lifetime
for you to see the truth
when it comes to loving you
and I will wait a lifetime
for you to see the truth
Real love doesn’t go away
it doesn’t fade into the past,
it goes on forever
and always finds its way back
it doesn’t fade into the past,
it goes on forever
and always finds its way back
I will wait a lifetime for you
because you are my soul,
and behind all of your doubt
I know you can’t let go
because you are my soul,
and behind all of your doubt
I know you can’t let go
You are my soul,
and I am yours, too.
If two people were ever meant to be,
it’s me and you.
Posted By Rufus Mcstevand I am yours, too.
If two people were ever meant to be,
it’s me and you.
Little Things
I remember the way
your eyes would light up
when you smiled
And the way you would laugh
it would make me laugh, too
your eyes would light up
when you smiled
And the way you would laugh
it would make me laugh, too
I miss all those little things
about you
about you
I remember how happiness
was just an ordinary feeling
It wasn’t something
that we wished for
It just happened everyday
was just an ordinary feeling
It wasn’t something
that we wished for
It just happened everyday
I miss all those little things
that have somehow slipped away
that have somehow slipped away
But as time went on
and the years began to take their toll
we forgot the little things
that filled our hearts and our soul
and somehow it all disappeared
and the years began to take their toll
we forgot the little things
that filled our hearts and our soul
and somehow it all disappeared
I miss all those little things
about us during our best years
about us during our best years
Life can be hard and it can hurt
sometimes we do or say something
we never really meant
and before we can take it back
the pain has sunk in
sometimes we do or say something
we never really meant
and before we can take it back
the pain has sunk in
I miss all those little things
about us;
the things that made us strong,
and made us promise this was forever
no matter what went wrong
about us;
the things that made us strong,
and made us promise this was forever
no matter what went wrong
If we can remember that love was ours
once upon at time
and let go of the tough years and heartache
and take a moment to rewind
I know whe can find the happiness
that used to fill our lives everyday.
once upon at time
and let go of the tough years and heartache
and take a moment to rewind
I know whe can find the happiness
that used to fill our lives everyday.
I miss all those little things that we used to be.
Tags: Troubled Marriage
We Can Find Love Again
Once upon a time
my heart fell in love
and it wasn’t ordinary
everyday, simple love
my heart fell in love
and it wasn’t ordinary
everyday, simple love
It was the need you,
want you, can’t be without
you kind of love
want you, can’t be without
you kind of love
I would smile for hours
so thankful that I found you
So sure and so positive you
were exactly where I was meant to be
so thankful that I found you
So sure and so positive you
were exactly where I was meant to be
And I couldn’t imagine
that a day or time would ever
come and change everything
about our life and love
But it did
that a day or time would ever
come and change everything
about our life and love
But it did
Years and time, trials and troubles
have taken us on a rollercoaster
that sometimes didn’t seem to end
and before we knew it our hearts were tired
have taken us on a rollercoaster
that sometimes didn’t seem to end
and before we knew it our hearts were tired
So tired and worn out from all we had seen,
all we had been through and all we’d experienced
and love somehow turned into comfort
the comfort of knowing someone was there
all we had been through and all we’d experienced
and love somehow turned into comfort
the comfort of knowing someone was there
But those feelings of excitement
and passion somehow faded along the way
and now we’re left wondering just
where it all went
and passion somehow faded along the way
and now we’re left wondering just
where it all went
I believe we can find love again
because love is where it all began
and once upon a time
you were all my dreams come true
because love is where it all began
and once upon a time
you were all my dreams come true
Tags: Lost Love, troubled love
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Two poems by Susan Utting
The Bathers of the Ladies’ Pond
Each day before they slip their frocks and stockings off
and naked, slide like knives through satin water,
one by one they shake the chestnut trees and wait
for any peeping Tom or Dick to drop like plums
and scamper bruised and red-faced through
the scratching hedge or squeeze their awkward
bodies out between the fence posts and the wire.
Then all the lazy sidestroke mornings drifting into
breaststroke afternoons, the ladies of the pond take turns
to sit out on the side and listen for a rustle in the shrubs,
a crack of twig, they keep a look out for a glimpse
of collar-white or toecap-brown. Then they take up their
handbag mirrors, flash the sunlight into prying eyes till
dazzled, blinded by the glare, the guilty lookers blunder off
and leg it to the heath.
I sometimes speak
I sometimes speak as if my feet were bound,
as if I had been made to keep two paces back,
take smaller steps, or shuffle. My daintiness
amazes me, it keeps the words back in my throat,
like fish bones.
I remember princesses who’d
lose their life for want of knowing some peculiar
goblin name, for saying it out loud in rooms filled up
with flax spun into gold; and fishtailed girls
whose tongues were ransomed for their song.
The riddles of the Elfin King were answered,
Sheba’s too were matched: I know them all by heart
and I’ll repeat them, soft, to loose the bandages
from off my feet, and run.
Susan Utting‘s poems have been widely published, including in The Times, TLS, The Independent, Forward Book of Poetry, The Poetry Review and Poems on the Underground. Following a first collection, Striptease, published by Smith/Doorstop, Susan’s Two Rivers Press collections are Houses Without Walls (2006), Fair’s Fair (2012) and Half the Human Race: New & Selected Poems (March 2017).
Posted By Rufus Mcstev
High Society’ by Ian Humphreys
Inside the camphorwood chest – forgotten treasure:
a pair of leather cowboy boots with metal toe caps.
How they shone. As loud, proud and polished
as the men
they sparked a trail through.
Three decades of dust can’t hide the cracks.
A genie-rub conjures up swirls of dry ice, the wink
of the glitter ball, and the Night Fever dance floor,
a chequerboard
where we played by the rules.
Once, I was unknotted from an embrace
on that pulsing stage by Fat Geoff, the bouncer.
Two men holding each other in public:
We could lose our licence, boys.
All that first summer, as the last song
faded in – always Louis Armstrong singing
High Society – my best friend and I would drop
our coats, link arms and glide across glass squares.
The lights below us
burning brighter with every step.
High Society was a 1980s gay nightclub off Princess Street in Manchester
(previously unpublished)
Ian Humphreys lives in West Yorkshire. His work has been published in journals including Ambit, Butcher’s Dog, Poetry News and The Rialto. In 2016, he won the Poetry Society’s Hamish Canham Prize and was selected for The Complete Works III. Ian holds an MA in Creative Writing from Manchester Metropolitan University. A portfolio of his poems will feature in Ten: Poets of the New Generation (Bloodaxe) later this year.
I Don't Know What To Call This
© O'Shanel Eppes
I’m tired of trying.
I’m tired of crying.
I don’t have any fight left in me.
I’m so over it.
I gave you all of me
& you don’t seem to notice.
I gave you the best of me
& you don’t seem to care.
I gave you everything.
I’m not going to make you out
To be the bad guy or anything.
At first you were amazing.
Then you got comfortable.
You started to have an “idc” attitude.
You just brush me off like lint.
You toss me off to the side
Like an old, dirty sock.
Throw me away like a used napkin.
Do you know how I feel?
I have no more tears left to cry.
I’m all dried out.
Everything I say to you is a lie?
I can’t make you believe me.
I won’t.
Not anymore.
I’m done.
Are you that insecure?
Are you that hurt?
How do you think I feel?
Do you consider that?
I didn’t think so.
I love you.
That scares me the most.
You say you love me too.
Do you really?
If this is what love feels like,
I want out.
From what I know
This isn’t love.
Love is truthful and happy.
Not lying and misery.
I love you and I hate that.
Sometimes we have the best times,
Other times I wonder,
“Why are we even doing this?”
I can’t take it anymore.
You’re so indecisive.
One day you want me to be with you forever.
You want me to be your wife.
You can’t live without me.
The next day you never want to see me again.
You don’t want anything to do with me.
This isn’t love.
If this is what love feels like I want out.
No I don’t.
I can’t give up.
I care about you too much.
You have issues and I do too.
We’ll work on this together.
As long as you’re willing.
I’m not going anywhere.
I’m here to stay.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I’m tired of crying.
I don’t have any fight left in me.
I’m so over it.
I gave you all of me
& you don’t seem to notice.
I gave you the best of me
& you don’t seem to care.
I gave you everything.
I’m not going to make you out
To be the bad guy or anything.
At first you were amazing.
Then you got comfortable.
You started to have an “idc” attitude.
You just brush me off like lint.
You toss me off to the side
Like an old, dirty sock.
Throw me away like a used napkin.
Do you know how I feel?
I have no more tears left to cry.
I’m all dried out.
Everything I say to you is a lie?
I can’t make you believe me.
I won’t.
Not anymore.
I’m done.
Are you that insecure?
Are you that hurt?
How do you think I feel?
Do you consider that?
I didn’t think so.
I love you.
That scares me the most.
You say you love me too.
Do you really?
If this is what love feels like,
I want out.
From what I know
This isn’t love.
Love is truthful and happy.
Not lying and misery.
I love you and I hate that.
Sometimes we have the best times,
Other times I wonder,
“Why are we even doing this?”
I can’t take it anymore.
You’re so indecisive.
One day you want me to be with you forever.
You want me to be your wife.
You can’t live without me.
The next day you never want to see me again.
You don’t want anything to do with me.
This isn’t love.
If this is what love feels like I want out.
No I don’t.
I can’t give up.
I care about you too much.
You have issues and I do too.
We’ll work on this together.
As long as you’re willing.
I’m not going anywhere.
I’m here to stay.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
A girl with a boyfriend is a girl with
issues. One second your man is there for you and the next he just isn't.
He is from Mars and you are from Venus and he just doesn't get it. A
relationship is always a work in progress. Poetry about Relationships is
about dealing with issues.
McDaniels A Gyamfi
ENDURANCE CODE
Give me one more push
Before thy hands, swing into despair
Give it One more chance
A seed to grow
A love to ferment
We haste to want
We slip from the top;
Loaded with immaturity.
Sharpening your edge takes time.
Be patient with me;
I will improve.
Don’t give up on me;
The luggage on my soul, heavy.
Hold my hand for a little while and
Be my eyes, before I go missing,
In this dark jungle.
You promised, you were in for a long haul;
The fear in your eyes, sounds like
A racing horse, without a rider.
My code is red hot endurance, to the end of the rope.
I am in, and there is no turning back,
from what is rightly mine.
- McDaniels Gyamfi
Before thy hands, swing into despair
Give it One more chance
A seed to grow
A love to ferment
We haste to want
We slip from the top;
Loaded with immaturity.
Sharpening your edge takes time.
Be patient with me;
I will improve.
Don’t give up on me;
The luggage on my soul, heavy.
Hold my hand for a little while and
Be my eyes, before I go missing,
In this dark jungle.
You promised, you were in for a long haul;
The fear in your eyes, sounds like
A racing horse, without a rider.
My code is red hot endurance, to the end of the rope.
I am in, and there is no turning back,
from what is rightly mine.
- McDaniels Gyamfi
Posted By Rufus Mcstev
Boomerang
Threatening the throw,betrayal of weight,
resistances of wind, tail,
aim. Any moment now
you will let it go—
fingers unfolded
and darting into space,
the flick of wrist, stroke,
and sallying forth now
the release. But this is not
the point. At the tip of all light
lies the consumed thing:
an eye, a swish. Slingshot arced
toward bird, into the slope
between mountains,
toward that sought level.
Such wide berth we give
to firmament, the presences
it keeps. We whistle for wind,
calling out to the missing,
and, in the dark,
that elaborate maneuver
of pointing to ignited things,
great capture or failure,
perfect human gestures
forever motioning
risk, raise, return.
Ruin
And before the end comes, the completecorrosion of all things beautiful,
what calls us back to dust and the fine
delicate things under rocks, the solemn
quarters of the dead, or the believing
children who simply cannot resist
looking at the sun, curious about the circle
behind the wide glare presiding over
the world, the price of temporary blindness
that panics them and teaches us
to grow old wise to the benefits of light,
the harm of looking, trusting instead
the close and ephemeral, the feel
of objects, love; and the long view
of the old who are now straining
to look past all the nearby losses,
to the stars and their kind shapes,
now gradually being put out,
seemingly more distant, also perishable.
written by Joel M. Toledo
Posted By Rufus Mcstev
Two poems by Momtaza Mehri
Bars Bars Bars
How it was is half the fun. half the story.The grit underneath nails. The last bit of meat left on the bone.
A clinging of years. Yaa the years. Softening like plastic. Hoarded in Narrowing closets
In the coldest of spare rooms. Mothball Mama. All the how it could have been.
Crates of Apples & Pears. Flushing green as sickness.
Remind me how. Tell me how. She took two boxes to the prison.
Let the guard touch her somewhere no one else had. yet.
he appeared. Lighter than memory. Lidded eyes & dried blood bloom.
The reed of his spine now bent. Do not ask how.
Imagine all the ways a coat hanger can be put to use
& stop there.
He stops too. At the burst of fruit, of something foreign, at her chest.
He does not notice.
Leans over to whisper. Did she remember the chocolate?
Hazelnut spread & air conditioner hum. He wants it all.
imported from Italy. back then it was a new thing. a modern kind of sweetness.
you know how it is. how everything worth having gets stuck between the teeth.
brown against brown against bars.
the whites of his eyes tell their own tales.
she is not what he asked for.
but she is what he has.
Mouthwash
Woke up to the sound of Big Bio spitting I heard it’s not where you from but where you pay rent.
An accident of fate. Yesterday’s news.
Brushed what teeth I got & set pace. Know nothing beyond the
downwards slide of flesh. Don’t know much about Big Boi’s South but I
know what a murderous slumber looks like. Iced tea cut bitter.
Inheritance. Misshapes. A guilt to marinate in. All my reference points
are dead or on the way there. Bronchiole to bronchiole. What enters me
always disseminates. Splits at the seams. Blood passes through the
checkpoints of valves. Swing swings at the gate. Rolls backwards. Lean
and slack-mouthed. Passport as freedom papers. Passport as paid dues.
When in Rome, do as Romans do. Which incidentally is where mama ran to.
Where auntie nearly got raped. Where the boot softened its imprint into
my neck. Where the steel-toe kissed my teeth. Left a stamp I’ll carry to
the grave. Don’t know much about the South, or boxed holes, but I know
what goes down the drain. What always goes down.
(both previously unpublished)Written By Momtaza Mehri
Momtaza Mehri is a poet, essayist and meme archivist.
Posted By Rufus Mcstev
A BIALONWU HENRY IDEATION
A WRITER, POET, LYRICIST
HE'S STAGED NAME 'BUSTA-SONGZ"
They looked down on me"SON OF MERCY"
And called me a Novice
A waste is all he will be
They brought Hatred to my Notice
They called me a Walking Corpse
My days on Earth, they Counted
They triumphed over my flaws
My Limelight was forever Doubted...
My Success seemed harder than a Puzzle
I could not make ends meet
The more I tried to Struggle
The Stronger Hardship gripped my feet
I knew I was born for a Purpose
But the World could not see
Prejudice and Jealousy..
Was all it could be....
I kept on Striving
I kept aiming for Success
And when it came knocking
I found out it was Excess...
They realized I was not Oppressed...
They Crowned me "Son of Mercy"
And ever since then
All I see are God's Blessings....!!
Written By Busta_Songz
Posted By Rufus Mcstev
2 comments:
These are great compilation of poems... they do have different styles and tones but I personally love the "I Don't Know What To Call This" as it is cleverly written and I love the choice of words that are being used.
Wow, i remember those times when I'm really into writing my own poems.. i do write every time I feel great, inspired or sometimes when I am depressed and alone...I think our creativity and artistry are in their best when our emotion is at peak
This is a great collection of poems. I really love I Don't Know What To Call This, it's so moving and something we can all relate to I think.
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