Taboo

sun-heart-autumn-leaf-39379
For years we’ve said “I love you”
-as casual parting goodbyes.
And now we confront how taboo
-it’s become and all that it implies.

Must we kill this love and let it die
-to keep our friendship true?
As for me how much more will I
-shirk our mores to shout “I love you!”

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I Let You Go

Multiple exposure of girl, flowers and sunlight

I let you go again this morn’
Below your veil is bliss unshorn
Wanting you, the magic torn
Filled with love, and want, and scorn

I let you go again today
You held my loneliness at bay
I’m missing you again this way
When will this yearning slip away?

I let you go again tonight
A night you’d softly fill with light
An ardent try, but gravely slight
All the same… To hold you tight

And then tomorrow, I don’t know

I Let You Go…
I Let You Go…
I Let You Go…

 

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If your Rooster is Lonely

Rhett

We have a rooster named Rhett
He’s never been much of a pet
Used to have a bunch of hens
Gathered around in the pen

All day long he’d strut’n crow
Really put on a good show
All the hens were impressed
They felt safe in their nest

Then the critter came a prancing
The hungry Fox kept advancing
Swiftly pursuing his females
And did Rhett try to prevail?

Now the rooster named Rhett
Has a different mindset
He’s missing his girlfriends
Gone like so many whirlwinds

‘Cause when it comes to tending
And then to defending
He’s just a lonely screwball
A scared chicken after all


 

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Emergency Room

Racing to the E.R. really bites!
‘Cause she took a header on the ice,
landed on her back to be precise,
and her wrist now pays the price.

So when it’s cold and slippery,
carefree walking leads to misery,
and if you move too briskly,
you end up special delivery….

🙂


 

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Lost Year

john_b_stetson_a_royal-style_cowboy_hat_white_beaver_d5338115h

For my friend:

Winter’s sting began last spring,
over one year last,
that’s when he passed away,
now all she can pray is; “help me hold fast.”
Time and doubt are all strung out,
in the ceaseless pale dream,
but memories sustain,
and she doesn’t complain;
as she’s carried upon life’s stream.

Meanwhile, the toiling world flashes by:
And men’s souls rise and fail,
like the stream in the pale dream,
on its wintry race, never ceases the pace,
dwell on its lonesome face.


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