Tears sure are a funny thing,

They can make the eyes sting.

Flowing heavily when we are sad,

Healing us when we feel bad.

Flowing down when very happy inside,

When emotions you're trying to hide.

Welling up during a good deed,

For others that are in need.

Flowing when you hear someone sing.

Tears sure are a funny thing.

I received a notice my book was ready for pickup.

The librarian scanned my card, looked at my account and then stood up from her desk.

“Follow me.” She said. But her eyes and smile, definitely showed it was going to be worth it.

Deep in the back of the library.

She bent over at the waist to reach the book from the bottom shelf. Her black pumps matched her black draped skirt. No panty line was clear as she turned back to look up before standing.

When she handed me the book, she pressed her breasts against my chest. Her other hand slid down my shirt down to the top button of my pants.

Second later my cock was out and fully erect in her hand. Sliding to her knees she wrap her lips all the way down the shaft to where I could feel her at the base.

I was trying to keep my legs from giving out as she finished, checking me out.

“I look forward to you returning, the favor when it is due.” She said as I took the book. She pursed her beautiful red lips in a silent kiss as I left.

I saw your face as I sunk down,

deeper in the ground.

I saw your tears mix with the air,

till your eyes were dry and bare.

I heard your silent, slow goodbyes,

sent both below and towards the sky.

I heard your breathing miss a beat,

with your gaze never rising above your feet.

This marked the end of our long life,

filled with love and filled with strife.

This marked the end of our prime,

as we said our goodbyes for the very last time.

She is beauty,

          buried in ashes.

She is joy,

          drowning in sorrow.

She is life, 

          shackled to shadows.

She is free,

           perhaps tomorrow.

Frustration building,

Crackling like static under my skin

Tears flowing from mocha eyes,

Birthed from containing rage inside

Anger steadily mounting,

A violent storm brewing

Always keeping my mouth shut,

My lips locked tight

I fear that someday,

All the lightning and thunder

Will break free,

Pouring down in wrathful reign

I try to calm such feelings,

Stop them from ever bursting,

But, there are days

Where I simply long to scream

Everything, all the anger

And ugliness within,

Erupting for all to see

The eye of the storm,

Revealed

In my inner planes

there is a light accumulating,

~bursting~

This light is hope.

It allows me to face

the deep unknown

that is brought in by darkness.

An illuminated temple

seated in my soul

A solar flare igniting

celebrations of new life.

If you were to peer in

you would be warmed,

nurtured even.

A home of inner peace

luminous love

& safe refuge.

Pillars of boldness,

patience,

& wisdom solidified.

I do not just have this light,

I Am The Light.

While watering my flowers

All the insects want to play

Butterflies jump rope beneath

The water spout I spray

Bumblebees spin hula hoops

Crickets leap frog’s backs

Grasshoppers skip hopscotch

Praying mantis play freeze tag

Evening time brings hide and seek

Skeeters lurk the woods

Fireflies flutter and tease

Lighting neighborhoods

Moths join in the antics

As nightfall draws them in

Chasing shadow puppets

In the milk of moonlight, dim

My mind lies somewhere at the bottom,

A jumble of disconnected pieces

The edges, slivers of jagged silver,

Too misshapen to form back together

There, the fragments rest,

Glimpses of more cheerful times,

Memories long since laid to rest

A swirling pit of despair,

A vortex brewed from fear,

A cage to warp all the sanity left

My mind lies somewhere at the bottom,

A jumble of disconnected pieces

That can never be put back together

There are so many things I want to run from

My Family

My Job

My weak body

My not-so-smart mind

And last but not least the reality of life

Run Run Run

But where can I run too

I try to hide

Behind the mountains

But everyone and everything just chases me

As I run out of breath

I slow down

And there goes my chance

To run away

Together, we write — painting skies

Paper-white, swept on azure-blue

parchment

Raindrops, ink-storms mist our eyes

Pen’s to page as the cloud’s to the

firmament

One body, we lap mankind’s souls

Cerulean sketched ocean scapes

Sand fleas, building castles and moats

Cresting hearts, washed in lyrical waves

Architectural structures, sublime

Under me, under you; mystifies

Foundations of contrast and rhyme

Toothpick towers of phrase paradise

First, born in love with words; smitten

Aster flowers, bamboo branches and

leaves

Unnatural, squares - quilt patch

knitting

Ivy lattice laced prose, drawing bees

Eyes of artists see poems in living

Words work their ways into sonnets

Encouraging lambs in sheep’s clothing

Gifted writers, not just an(y) other

poets

Stained glass windows; our joy in the

pane

Scatters light, shades of heart’s hopeful

hue

A lark in the woods should we wane

Inspiration, when words remain few

Verse-stippled pigments paint canvas

Writing fame with the stars in the sky

Tapestry, woven, we blanket

Carpe Noctem; blue-black seizing

night

Spilling ink from our vessels of clay

Bards bake pie; huckleberry hue

flavor

Staining flesh as our fingers, we splay

Art from words that will live on forever

****

This piece is in honor of all the Prosers in our wonderful community! If your username isn’t included, please know that you are still there within these lines and in the spirit that this was written. <3 thank you for taking the time to read this and for always being so supportive!