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Literature Text
A pulse that doesn't lie
A heart that will not cease
Interrupted by your smile
Its even pounding beat
Skips lightly at your glance
And under perfect gaze
Emotions gladly dance
And drown in gentlest waves
A cure for all despair
In that brief look conveyed
And all my weary cares
They all are gone away
For in my pulse that cannot lie
The metre trips when you pass by
A heart that will not cease
Interrupted by your smile
Its even pounding beat
Skips lightly at your glance
And under perfect gaze
Emotions gladly dance
And drown in gentlest waves
A cure for all despair
In that brief look conveyed
And all my weary cares
They all are gone away
For in my pulse that cannot lie
The metre trips when you pass by
Literature
This Kiss
Sometimes I dream about the flickering teasing in your voice,
Running my hands through your river long hair.
The beautiful promises you makes of my heart,
The candlelight words we've spoken in between.
More than often you've dated me with your love,
Shown me beautiful things in my life,
And like a fairy tale story,
Made me believe in all I want to believe about love.
So as you are holding me now,
I am tempted to give you just about everything.
And so long as you are letting me,
It'll have to start with this kiss.
Literature
I Used To Be
Our toes are making tidal waves in the water, dusk-dazed legs dangling from the pier, as she rests her head on my shoulder. Hair the color of cedar bark, and as fine as spider silk, tickles my chin, as she lifts her cheek.
My eyelids, pinned down by fireflies and dying embers, open sleepily, and I scan her body, a slender silhouette against the burning sunset. "I used to be a mermaid." Her lips, the pale pink of a catfish belly, whisper to me, as fingertips brush the white tips of persistent waves.
I can't manage more than a drowsy, "Oh?" captivated by the curve of her back, bent so can whisper to the waves, and the quiet melody she produce
Literature
Far Gone
How far gone
was I that I
didn't even
recognize
a tender touch,
a kind word?
So far gone,
flinching at the
slightest touch,
wincing at every
word you ever spoke;
and you
never spoke
out of love
Wrapped so tight
to the point
of numbness,
I couldn't feel
the pain inflicted.
My body is
still addicted
to your cold ways.
-Brian Shuffett/Kat Ward
-June 26th, 2010
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This has been sitting unfinished in my notebook for a while now. I finally filled in the gaps this morning...
Featured in Songs of the Poets Issue #4 - [link]
Featured in Songs of the Poets Issue #4 - [link]
© 2010 - 2024 DanielDGriffiths
Comments6
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Well written Daniel! I thoroughly enjoyed it!