Is It Poetry

Gold Star - 7,606 Points (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Is It Poetry Poems

761. Black Hearts Transparent 7/18/2011
762. Black Hole 5/6/2009
763. Black Mail Extortioner 6/17/2009
764. Black Mink 2/3/2010
765. Black Or White 5/8/2015
766. Black Perfumed Silk 4/24/2011
767. Black Sand And White Paper 8/24/2009
768. Black Sea 2/2/2010
769. Black Sea Horses 9/21/2011
770. Blackened Red Blood 4/16/2009
771. Blame 3/21/2014
772. Blank Faces 8/18/2015
773. Blank Page No Ink 12/13/2008
774. Bleeding Apart 3/16/2009
775. Bleeding Parts 4/11/2010
776. Bleet Me In Heaven 12/14/2008
777. Bleet Me Up Scotty 12/15/2008
778. Bleeting The Light 12/14/2008
779. Bleets Do Grow 12/14/2008
780. Bless A Fairy Kissed 3/19/2009
781. Blessed Are The Mothers* 12/9/2008
782. Blessed Is The Sun 3/16/2009
783. Blind 4/7/2009
784. Blind Assistant 7/12/2009
785. Blind Man 2/5/2010
786. Blind The World 1/9/2014
787. Blind*for*days 12/11/2008
788. Bling Your Dead 12/16/2008
789. Blinking Your Pink God 6/13/2010
790. Bliss 8/8/2011
791. Blithering Sops 12/20/2008
792. Blood And Honey 1/5/2012
793. Blood Diamond 4/7/2010
794. Blood Squirts 12/27/2013
795. Blood, ' And There You Be 6/17/2010
796. Bloody Cuts 4/28/2011
797. Bloody Stick's 2/8/2014
798. Bloody Well Right, She Is 5/20/2010
799. Blooms White Wash 6/20/2009
800. Blowing Sand 12/18/2008
Best Poem of Is It Poetry

...................She Is Afraid, He Is Tired..

She is he,
and he is She.
The two,
now lost, loves heart.
And bright,
the yellow sun.

You once we're two,
as one,
and ran around the world.
Inside both heads.

He fell inside loves fire.
And she,
his red heart pumping burned

Both fires,
burned ice cold hot.
Within Her,
light did give U.S. form.

Over shadows love,
swept out black coals.

Your smile, twin lips.
He kissed, both miss.


His face, from that.
Bright coals, still hiss.

Now alone again,
he walks into.

Loves,
loving ...

Read the full of ...................She Is Afraid, He Is Tired..

C*taking Turns *

Short of wind your breath belies
the dragging of your heal in
dust we trust.

Sweat dried sand to face
scoured fresh blush the
wind has made
to know.

Wind lifts my arms to take
from you this gift is
precious so.

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