faded
from all the turns
against the sun
these rains have
washed and blessed you
into pale sweetness

He never said he loved her
it just wasn't his way
but to her he would defer
and in his mind she'd stay

He never said he loved her
from the day that they first met
he had eyes for no other
I guess he doesn't even yet

He never said he loved her
but built their home by hand
driving one nail after another
on a little piece of land

He never said he loved her
as they raised a family
a sister and a little brother
good hearted as could be

Sunday is a kissing day
Or isn't it?
Some countries like UK,
Have it on Friday
Others like me
Every day,
Every moment
Since yesterday my life began,
With kissing just by the way
Happy kissing all kissers
For you all today

She pretends
she's still asleep
as he rolls out of bed,
prepares to leave

Oh well

there's plenty more
fish in the sea
and you have to fuck
a lot of frogs
before you find
a Prince

Laws of Nature Friend

Neither you nor can I change
All make a coterie of friends,
who read and then the poet thanks
thus
doubling the comments

I now do not lament
40 poems in 42 days
Have been read by 10500 times
So why worry?
Poetry too is a kind of business
No one has any love for you,
As long as for them
To compose you continue.

VALENTINE'S DAY SONNET by Ian Thomson

My love for her is like a cloak
Hung round her shoulders, keeps her warm
And oft like priceless Persian rug
Beneath her feet, she's safe from harm.

For her, my Love's a Summer Isle.
So blue skies every day she'd see.
My Love is hers', at her command,
For loving her is all to me.

Her Love is quiet and sincere,
I need no fireworks,for I know.
That where she bides is where I'll be
There is no other place I'd go

In the shadows of blue mountains
when Appalachians were frontier
war between the French and English
days of cruel bloodshed were here

On the river Keowee
in Indian village of same name
across the river from a French fort
dwelt a maid of lasting fame

Born a Choctaw, Issaqueena
stolen when she was a child
name was changed from Cateechee
raised to be demur and mild

Kuraga was her liege and chief
her Cherokee lord and master
who held firm in his belief
English settlers were a disaster

I love to be an early bird
to greet your eyes each dawn
gliding on our wings
in sunshine
homing to our nest
each night..

I love to spread my wings for you
wishing our dreams come true
night after night
our love takes flight
and soon we are
three from two

Now I become the keeper of our nest
with our loved one under your breast
hoping not
it falls and wails
when our nest and tree
are felled

and with them
our sanctuary..

"THE LADY OF THE NIGHT"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 5th February 2011.

slipstream dream
the furthest lines
edged
this forest scent

there is hungry rain
in the air for melting winter ghosts
there is savage annointments
neath the calling ice

these turquoise visions
speaking
the moist sky
scrubbed
in meaning