#105
Rose again,
amongst violent Violet
missing my lackadaisical Daffodil,
and her sweet Tulips,
pray her eyes forget me not
let my heart blossom,
outside my flower’s bed.
#106
Patience, not always
a filling breath of
fresh air. More often
a calm cooling breeze,
a palm, crossing mine cheek.
#107
Those arms lock
and held so fast,
echoing of
dead feelings
past
#108
Pain is ok,
sadness is fine
shelter can make
us a bit weak
if we need
room to grow
#109
how can you build
a new attitude, when
you have a pocket of
change and a ruined day?
Breathe in, press play,
promise me
it will all be
ok
#110
Hunger. Those remembered pangs,
ripping guilt in my hopelessness
of helping you.
Sad friends.
The practised words suffer stage
fright, the blow of your pungent
pain, and surprise of my roaring
appetite for prickling disappointment,
and scalding judgemental thoughts.
My heart reaches for yours within
its inner inferno,
somedays its ability to cleanse us,
singe away our impurities
all seems like pretend.
Take us back, clean, and unblistered,
returned again to the glory
of everyday everythings.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write