Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

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20 February 2014

 

 

I’ve lost control in many ways,

and overcompensate these days.

For things I’ve lost, I try to fill

by being stubborn and strong-willed,

a subtle way of coping still.

 

 

20 February, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

insincere

20 February 2014

 

 

I could say what you want to hear,

whisper sweet nothings in your ear,

spirit away your heart and soul,

whatever, just to reach the goal,

except I can’t be insincere.

 

 

20 February, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

subcutaneous

20 February 2014

 

 

What others say and do, it’s true,

gets easily under our skin,

when frazzled nerves are wearing thin,

life’s just a pebble in our shoe,

that itch that we can’t reach again.

 

 

20 February, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

out of the silent

20 February 2014

 

 

It’s 3:15, awake again,

my world’s too silent to disturb.

Such times as these are rare my friend,

and yet perfect for freeing words.

That’s often how it all begins.

 

 

20 February, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

not everything is a line

31 July 2013

not everything is a line

 

Why are compliments heard as lines?

Can’t someone say you’re beautiful

without hidden meanings sometimes?

Not everyone is truthful,

but neither does everyone lie.

 

Maybe you wouldn’t believe me,

because you don’t believe it’s true,

about yourself I mean, but see

if someone else compliments you

they might just mean it honestly.

 

So, gorgeous hair, beautiful eyes,

I do not mean when men get crude,

but why should I ever disguise

what I like without being rude?

Just once, I’d like to be surprised.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

five more days

17 March 2013

five more days

 

Sunday means Monday morning’s near,

a fact that no one likes to hear.

Another week begins again,

we sigh, "so much for the weekend,

but it’s only five more days dear!"

 

(aabba)

17 March, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Train

17 March 2013

Train

 

morning fog hides the 8:15,

but I can hear the ghostly moan.

I do not know where it has been,

I only see it in between

a lonely nomad with no home.

 

(abaab)

17 March, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Masterpiece

17 March 2013

Masterpiece

 

but in the morning, you’ll still be

beautiful, some things never change

’cause you’ll be you, and I’ll be me,

an empty canvas in a frame

still looking for our masterpiece.

 

(ababa)

17 March, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Quintilla

17 March 2013

Quintilla

 

"What’s a quintilla?" you might ask,

four variations, patterned rhyme,

only five eight syllable lines.

Another short form to unmask,

one more tool to use any time.

 

(abbab)

17 March, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment