Category Archives: poetry

Beneath The Moonlight

Daydreamer

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Under the gleams of your smile, I sigh,
As the sky hums

And the moon cast its rays
On our wriggling bodies,
A tune of love plays just for the two of us
Its lyrics fathoms the link between us
And we loose ourselves to its melody.

Your eyes are golden in the moonshine,
And am trying to calculate the gradient of your lips,
That enslave me with their grandeur
The cool breeze caresses our cheeks,
I feel your heartbeat in the darkness
And its thrums pound in my head
When I hold you close in my arms.
vio
Your violins calm my anxiety,
As you pull my strings with your charmy bow,
Sending my heart into a trance
And makes my soul dance to a jig of heaven,
I slip into happiness,
The stars twinkle in harmony above us
Witnessing the construction of our love.
A poetic radiance glow on…

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“The light that falls through the cracks”…

Eye Will Not Cry

Please welcome Owen as my latest Guest Poet!

You can read more of Owen’s words here: http://sensualism.me/

If you would like to be a Guest Poet, please email me your poem to eyewillnotcry@hotmail.co.uk

Cheers

fifj

Butterfly in shimmering light,

Garden blooming in new season.

Kookaburra, sitting, soulful –

Poignant is the far horizon.

Orchid flowers, life awakens,

The day grows ever longer.

Shadows present,

Sunshine alightens,

Prodigious is her effort, action.

Human in kind,

Love we find

In simple, pleasant things.

Far horizon, ever closer,

Droplets they descend.

Life, we wish to never end,

The day draws near,

We transcend.

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Senses

Heartstring Eulogies

Feel the softness of my flesh,
without worrying about
the layers beneath
or the scars that mark it.

See the depth in the
cold stormy seas of my eyes
and hear the truth mixed with
the agony beating within my heart.

Taste my lips with abandon,
like I dream of devouring yours,
then I will no longer remember
to breathe anything but you.

© Sarah Doughty

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THE WRONG BOOTH

keithgarrettpoetry

THE WRONG BOOTH

Innocently he walks in, a quiet night,

His thoughts are of the moment, he sits.

A cup of coffee as his eyes wander this place,

He is not comfortable as he watches those around.

There is little sound as he rests his weary mind,

Eyes are upon him but he will not understand why.

Approached by one he does not know, he reacts quickly,

Injured as he runs away, the wrong booth he found today.

Keith Garrett

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