Will You Be Mine?

Will You Be Mine?

Roses are red, violets are blue
A classic way, to say I love you
Although these lines, may be overdue
My love? Omnipresent! it won’t go shoo

Though I am but, just a simple man
My love, extraordinary, and as sweet as flan
I’ll make you my queen, and I your King
Wait, too exaggerated? Okay, I’ll just sing

I promise that I, will love only you
When other girls woo, I will throw them my shoe
No.. I’m just joking, I’m a gentleman at heart
I’ll just tell them that I, already found my half part

If you will ask why, it’s you that I love
They say it’s your beauty, well yeah kind of
But note that I too, love your heart pure of gold
My darling beauty, so kind and so bold


These last lines, I’ll ask you the question
I love you for everything as I already mention
Will you take my hand, to our future endeavor
I promise I’m with you, forever and ever

View silverengold's Full Portfolio

Fucking Lost Again

You Want To Bring Them
Some Sort Of Happiness
But Nothing You Bring
Makes Them Smile At All
Not Even The Slightest Bit

You Wonder What Went Wrong In Your Life
Sometimes You Want Your Life To End
And Sometimes You Don't Know What To Do
But You End Up Moving Foward
Because You Don't Know
What The Else The Fuck To Do

You Don't Have Any Talents
You Don't Have Any Skills
The Dream I've Had
Since I Became A Christian
Hasn't Moved Forward
I Don't Know What To Do
I Don't Know What To Say

I'm Just Lost And I Need T Obe Saved Again
And I Need To Feel Lovable, Capable And Worthwhile
I Need To Know I Am Not Alone
I Need To Know I Am Loved Without Strings



Canis Lupus

Simple Thoughts

"Well, well, 

and perhaps a third well,

for good measure.

What do we have here?


Something curious,

an odd pairing indeed.

Don't you think? 

How do you explain,


assuming a lack magnanimity,

the two seperate entities

that have so little in common,

now frolicking in the park?


Start that thought process

for a second, 

while gifting your gaze

all about the last few days


between the two. 


A boy and his dog,

new dog.


The young pup

as been running around all day,

chasing his canine. 

Two legs after four,


the two slowly falling for another.

But not in the romantic sense,

instead, the way a brother loves a brother,

a father loves a son,


a boy loves his dog.

Similarities vary,

you can find them if you dig,

much like the dog making a mess of the yard. 


This was too much,

and got the boy yelled at by landlady,

though he never liked her anyway,

she was shady in her ways of eviction. 


Second lesson,

the dog constantly testing the patience

of the young man, when

he was gone.


Too long, and the carpet would be chewed,

the pillows torn apart,

quite the test on the heart.

But the boy loved him,


for too long had he slept alone,

but with a dog at his feet,

he was finally getting sleep.

The only thing that kept the two in line


was the neccesity of longevity,

for the boy knew he had to make time

for his new dog. 

No more tail chasing,


alcohol drinking or city walking.

Only as long as the pup

was at his side,

joining him in his evening stroll.


The boy and his dog,

his brand new dog,

made him happy.

This was the undying love 


he had been looking for,

to match the love

he had been wanting to give,

without restraint.


So, no complaint,

in the long run,

when the boy falls below,

for a crime against his own brethren,


another human,

for hurting his dog.

He needs no church or steeple,

it's not his fault


he liked his dog

more than most people.

People are dumb,

it's probably the opposable thumbs."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I freaking love dogs.


Beautiful Imagery

I cannot help myself
against the slender slopes
hidden beneath her denim skin.
Inside me, there is a wolf, searching
to sheer this sheep's clothing
so that I may devour her.
Perhaps her She-Wolf would
exhale stifled howls, inviting me
to prowl freely and roam with Spirit.
Or perhaps I'm imaging such
in truth, I pray secretly
for 'sheepish' prey.
No trust for this lust;
I've lost myself before
to beastly beckoning echoing from bedrooms,
bidding consent to cum hither
for back breaking acrobatics -- 
but silence is my only partner these days,
karma suiting my insatiable inclination
for constant Kama Sutra sessions.


Maybe it's best to hold
my breath...
and let this blood red Moon
This wolf will go
waiting, quietly,
for a chance.


CLF 2015

View cirelueyfreemind's Full Portfolio

Day By Day

Simple Thoughts

"Life's a bitch,

but still you got to love it.

Some feel-good music,

blasting away in eardrums. 


Take a day or two 

to have some fun,

Don't be caught up so much

in all the small things. 


But enjoy the small moments

that make life bright,

that make you feel all right,

the ones that make it possible


to fall asleep at night.

Focus on the big picture

and put things in perspective,

even if it seems the whole world


has gotten hectic, 

put all the strain and the pain

and the stress aside,

take it from me;


the stress can crack your mind,

your dreams could fall, 

but keep on track,

dreams do fall in place,


in time. 

When things are looking hopeless,

when you have lost all focus,

I cannot stress enough


how important optimism is.

You can do it,

I do it,

because wishful thinking


doesn't get you further,

I'll never be taller,

I just want to live comfortable,

keep my head above water. 


Something's got to give,

no matter how hard

it becomes to live. 

It's going to be all right,


it's going to be okay.


you have to take life

day by day."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

When you're feeling real sad for no reason:

1- Be happy inside (yes, it is that easy)

2- Assess your sadness

3-Do fun stuff

4-Be social.


Easier said than done, but hey, it works most of the time.

Hot Mess

Simple Thoughts

"Her mascara is faded, 

like an intentional artwork, 

the kind an artist makes

on the sidewalk,


shading chalk 

with the wipe of her hand, 

which is how she made the effect,

by wiping away her tears. 


The cause? 

Ache, the kind that wracks the body, 

the kind that ties knots in the stomach,

that brings us to our knees.


Ache can be painful,

through life, strife, 

or perhaps a dull knife,

the heart feels all tugs, 



The smile, 


That's what stops me.


Her smile

is of fresh snow,

an antithesis of her mood,

her tone is light,


not unlike the scent

of wine on her words

she lets lull unto me.

Enticing, but slightly indicating


the bottom of rocks

she may or may not be dancing on,

at least, 

at the moment. 



so universal, 

but it can be so unknown,

and I do not know what pain


stems from. 

But what we can do,

due to compassion,

is give her a hand, hug,


a reason to smile.

Get her to show some teeth

with this piece. 

Or a movie?


I hate seeing people sad,

but she'll be okay.

That's what we do.

Love one another."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An observation.




That was the sensation given,

when across the room,

reflected off the sliding glass door,


the image back unto the viewer

of himself,

dark, inked shoulders spilling past

the slim, pale ones


of the one in his arms. 

Though not much taller,

his eyes lined up

right over her head,


his arms seemed

to encompass her back,

skin contrasting not exponentially,

but predominately,


the darkest parts

of his skin

his arms, due to

his daily exposure to the sun.


The lack of the same 

to her slender back, 

exposed only now 

by the thin-strapped undershirt,


gave more difference 

to the two tones of skin,

and their characteristics 

augmented even more.


Never gloved against steel, oil or grease,

the thick, rough hands, 

of his enveloping embrace

clutched at skin peppered with freckles, 


while a elegant, high-cheekboned face

kept readjusting,

her chin to his neck,

her nose to his chest,


her cheek to his.

Her fingers slowly

scratching his back,

his shirt off unexpectedly,


but not contested, 

detered or questioned. 

He didn't even realize it was off,

or the events that lead up


to this image,

burned in his head.

As though he had just woken up,

to her scent in his breath,


her hair in his face, 

one of her hands on his chest,

another on his back,

her breath warming his body,


like a bellow blowing

oxygen into the hearth,

each puff burning the fire inside

more bright,


the ember of his heart

shining brighter,

ashes and loose soot

blowing off the furnace


that had laid cold

for a while,

but how much longer will burn

before it cracks the brick?


The first burns hot,

her breath heavy,

heating up. Warm to touch,

he always is to her,


or at least that's what she says.

He's heard it before.

He's seen this before,

this image.



why was it such a shock?

To see the body of his as the canvas,

and hers as the art piece?


Was it luck?

or the eventuality of it, which slipped

through Freudian reference

that lent future probabilities?



it was something else,

still indescribable, 

not knowing the difference in appearance,


but understanding the gravity

of the reason,

like a person wanting to read a book,

or just be seen reading.


Looks the same.

But the reason behind it

leading to perhaps another judgement,

and at this moment,


staring back at himself,

a new love in his arms

with no good reason to call it that,

he just holds onto her; the moment."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It is literally impossible to describe love, I almost think it's not real sometimes. 


What I mean is, take a tree. Now, I can wrtie about a tree for twenty stanzas straight, and you know what I'm talking about. You can go outside, find a tree, touch it, and then read my poem and nod (or shake) your head.


But love is so misidentified, especially now a days. More over, sometimes I feel like I don't know it still. I think I do, and then, you know, Life happens, and proves me horribly wrong. I feel like I'm doing something wrong. All along.


But, anyway. There is so much to love on this plaent, I can't help but write about it, advocate it.

My Best Girl

Tonight is a new poetry kind of night,

As the rain slips down the glass pane windows,

Of our dusty nursing home of a library,

The old binds are bursting,

The covers worn,

As I run my fingers over the innocent little books in the poetry section,

The musk of ugly men and beautiful women stains the room,

I can see them crying out from their pages,

Screaming for my hand,

"Carry us to safety!" they plead,

They are lonely and desperate,

Just as they started,

My hand finally decides on Sharon Olds,

I like to read about women who make bad choices,

I love how my heart beats faster when the poem gets dark,

As if when she's with that bad boy,

Or about to snort another line of cocaine,

I can save her,


Oh Sharon,

Earlier today I tried to tell a friend my secret,

Even when I'm smiling,

Even though I seem so joyful,

Sadness has become my best girl,

My trusty right hand,

She goes to bed with me everynight,

And in the morning she is not with that asshole from her work,

Or those scholars down the hall,

Or whichever druggy is clever enough,

She's with me,

Staring into me totally,

As if she's discovered a new galaxy,

She's beautiful,

A type of beautiful I've seen all my life,

But never fades for a second,

She has the same power to tear me apart,

That she did when my family became ruin,

When my closest friends became memories,

When love finally gave up on me,

But she can be as hurtful as she needs to,

I have never been the judging type,

I understand her,

She just wants all these bottles to be empty,

The music to be louder,

The party to go a little longer,

That girl to be a little closer,

She's coming over tonight to read poetry with me,

And, like always, she's promised to help me write a few of my own



View notsolucky42's Full Portfolio

Dear Writer

Write and write, then write some more

Oh how some have said “It’s a bore.”

What do they know? They don’t see

The magic of these words on trees

Tiny strips of once grand woods

Hold whole worlds, even in death

The tree is gone, but life is there

And it grows with every breath

To create such things as worlds and lives

To build them up and rip apart

The power, the emotions, oh dear writer

Here is a portal to your heart

Look at how each person changes

Look at how your worlds expand

Do you see lives rearranging

And all within your master plan

Oh, the excitement! Oh, the joy!

Beauty is here, beauty and life!

In the quiet of humble homes

A universe hides inside

Some poor souls won’t understand

They’ll never see what you have done

Don’t live for them, don’t mold your worlds

To show the cruelty they’ve become

Take a breath, then get to work

Go live within what you create

Be surprised, feel admiration

Feel love, joy, jealousy, and hate

Don’t be afraid to stray away

And wander down an unknown path

Surprise and awe aren’t just for readers

Not everything will need a plan

Just let the life grow on its own

Let the people all be free

And in their freedom, you will find

A world where you may wish to be

Life isn’t set in stone, my friends

And your writing is the same

Your words are alive, so just relax

And walk within your stories

Always remember, your world is living

It’s not just scribbles on a page

And always know, it’s your creation


Be proud, and please, keep writing

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I love writing, and got so excited when talking about writing that I felt the need to write a poem about it. Hope you enjoy.