Dancing With Tears In My Eyes – Mr. Robert Green

felling lonely

Find this….anyplace inside your heart….

The truth hurt, nothing to atone
There were no lies
Moving alone
Dancing with tears in my eyes

Arms empty
Music plays, sighs! 
Love I have aplenty
Dancing with tears in my eyes

Alone in my mind
Doves! I hear cries
You I did find
Dancing with tears I’m my eyes

Finding some time
My heart flies
Toeing the age old line
Dancing with tears in my eyes

Dancing, 
Dancing with tears in my eyes 

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A Chemical Marriage – By Mr. Stan Petrovich

wedding-rings

We were once the torrid lovers,
Don’t get me wrong:
Slobbering kissses the afternoon long;
And nightly penetrating like shovels.

But soon enough, too soo enough,
Entered the scourge of alcohol between her lips,
Floating fat and curling cheese around her once-shapely hips.
My reaction was astoundment, and my heart pounded rough.

Tonight with alprazolam coursing through her passed-out form,
I sit & curse my fate;
For I will not don the weight
Of those stupifying pills as any norm.

You see, with me, it all terminated at Kent State, back in ’72 or ’73;
When we lost our longsuffering position;
The rifles came and shot dead several along with me;
Clearly we had lost our situation.

But my wife’s 700 million braindead cells.
All alcohol related,
Turned her into a fuming gel,
That only remains abated.

These newfangled drugs I think do even worse harms;
These newfangled pharmaceuticals boom onto her vacated brain;
Where there was a glimmer of hope has faded again.
I want to send out signal, issue alarms.

But no one believes that such a normal-seeming spouse
Can be engaged in such a zone of harpy-dropping terror;
That any marriage can have its strife,
Without this unseen force bottled on the floor.

You can read more about the Poet Stan Petrovich on Poemhunter.com

Bay of Dismay – By Midnights Voices

~Mr. Thomas Robinson ~ Buzios Bay

Always was always so certain in it’s way.
Never could you change it’s mind or
How it would have it’s say.

Her eyes are made up of sunsets.
But she holds the moon at bay.
Her eyes are watered
But the sea is receding now today
Her eyes are shadows, shadows
She questions everything I say.

The gemini was born three days past the bull.
In a land full of richness and
Illusions are cut and pressed down at the mill.

Her hands are empty and the wind begins to blow.
Her hands are fingered but I see no rings aglow.
Her hands are waving but I am so far and so…
Her hands have faltered over a heart so full of grief.
Her hands are longing for touching and some pure belief.
Her hands are lingering, lingering…

The ships they come into the safety of the harbor.
Then dock and they rope onto the wharf.
The gangplank unloads it’s cargo of remorse.

But this widow stands not among the chorus.
She twists and turns in a blacklaced chiffon party dress.
And the bayed back moon is peeping through the clouds
Humming a song of freedom before
The clouds get it going and move it on along.
Oh…..oh her eyes are sunsets, sunsets!

 

You can read more about Mr.  Thomas Robinson Midnights Voice~~ At Poemhunter.com and Allpoetry.com