Tag Archives: song

South Station

Outside the South Station Bus Terminal, Boston,
Cigarette and coffee,
Waiting for the tick-tock of an hour’s passing,
To go south still,
To Connecticut,
For my nephew’s bar mitzvah.

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Don’t Tread On Me – NaPoWriMo #14

A bluesy song for day fourteen.
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Don’t tread on me (don’t tread on me),
Don’t tread on me (don’t tread on me),
If you could only see just what it do to me,
Please darling don’t tread on me.

It might be too late
To avoid this fate,
And you can hardly wait, I only irritate,
Please darling don’t tread on me.

And though our time has come,
You’re still the only one,
Although I’m on the curb, and mostly ignored
Please darling don’t you tread on me.

The hurt’s within your smile,
How it still beguiles,
You know it’s got me riled still from a hundred miles,
Please darling don’t tread on me.

Don’t tread on me (don’t tread on me),
Don’t tread on me (don’t tread on me),
If you could only see just what it do to me,
Please darling don’t tread on me.

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Sweet Sentiments

This is every sweet sentiment swallowed when I bite my tongue,
This is every strand of hair twirled between my finger and thumb,
This is the breaths held when you walk by, stuck in my lungs,
This is revelling still in your sighs and the bliss of its limelight and the dulcet tones after the song’s sung.

This is your smile but the poem doesn’t do it justice,
These are your eyes that tell me simply just this,
This is love that hits harder than any habit,
Which keeps me rolling yet in this as though I were rabid, how bad I’d love still to have it.

This is solitude pining again for purchase,
This is the thing in the world that makes all the trials and tribulations worth it,
This is even’song aching for the dawn,
When free at last, to take to task the fact that yet you’re gone.

Take to Find

I want to tell you everything I know about myself and so expose when the moon hangs low,
Growing nearer as the stars glow gallantly in comparison to the brightness in your eyes when I have you in my orisons.

Core untrimmed, contents revealed:
I’ve known loves that dropped like out of the sky,
Didn’t pull my chute out of fright and plummeted instead to the ground,
Ended it with the clack that resounded extra loud.

Clack! Rounds rebounded, stored and stacked,
Some might say he’s slack in the stack stored upon his back,
Boasts a knack at knocking words together,
To turn them toward some poetry,
When the fact he’s writing poetry should yet fill her with some worry, see?

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