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Your Fingers

Lardeau Valley Time

I found one more prose poem in my mind. So here it is. Theme still Fingers.

Your fingers play my heart like a flute
Flinging your notes to my mind
Fluttering fingers so long and slim
Caressing my life with your joy.

Your fingers play my heart like an organ
Swelling my thoughts with the sound
Rich and round from so far down
From fingers strong and long.

Your fingers play my heart like a cello
Pulling rolls of sound from the depths
Teasing the notes to the surface
With fingers slim and tender.

Your fingers play my heart each time
You touch me. On the face,
On the arm, at my neck.
Stirring such feelings of wonder
That your fingers are magic to me.

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“Old Blue Eyes” Poem

Scrawling Writer

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I wrote a poem that deals with the feelings of Love and lust. I think it is a good conversation to have and especially about how both really affect us. I am encouraged  this is a conversation that is talked through  in churches  and in many other places.

                   Old Blue Eyes

Your eyes marked, edges dry,
The clock glaring twelve thirty-five. 
Lying in bed the deed is done
Every time it’s less fun.

“Just one last time”, you said,
“It will be quick”.
The lump swells in your throat
and you feel sick.

What you called love was fake,
It existed in a life that was falsely made.

You and she are bound,
Two lost souls searching to be found
Blinded  each other at a fast pace
Chasing after tails in a losing race.

In the old days people saw her innocent blue eyes
Before she was trapped by…

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