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Lisa Weeks Poems
I Have..I Give.
This is not a tiny man made thing Like religion or money. This is a Mother Nature thing, Made with the same stuff
If You Were
If you were possible, I would pull you near, Without a whisper of guilt, Nor breath of regret.
My Best Friend
There is a friendly Giant My imaginary friend He walks along smiling Beside me.
To Kiss You
I have dreamt Of a thousand different ways To kiss you. My lips wait in secret surrender.
Adored in Somnolence
He curls up behind her His every curve Melting into her own. The setting sun
You took all the colours From your rainbow, And coloured me in happy. I bathed in the new perspective you poured over me.
I have no problem understanding The concept of being numberless to you, You can forget me, But I'm still around.
Nothing Under My Bed
Daylight hours too, Can be insidiously cruel. I'm sunshine on a cloudy day, And I'm nobody's fool.
Leave it Behind
I will not let define me, what happens behind me, I am tied up with important stuff. If my tushie is fair, only takes up one chair, If it fits in clothes, that is enough!
I Might Not Be Beautiful,
I might not be beautiful, But I could intoxicate you, Melt through you like an aged Scotch Whiskey. I could make you dizzy with how you make me feel.
I Just Kiss Your Cheek
If I could... I would open my dress, And let you have the woman of me. I would open my chest,
Hook Line Thinker
I was reeled in Not knowing if I was Swimming...or broken I swallowed your line
I would taste you up and down, From the top of you to your base, Nibble your ticklish places, Then kiss the smile upon your face.
My feet are pointing high in the air, I'm blinded by a veil of hair. My body is shaking, a teardropp appears... Is it too late to let me out of here!
Comments about Lisa Weeks
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I Have..I Give.
This is not a tiny man made thing
Like religion or money.
This is a Mother Nature thing,
Made with the same stuff
As the starlight,
The pull of a wave,
And the smell of Sunshine.
It cannot be placed in a box
And its lid shut tight.
This is a sea!
You hold it in your hand
As if it were a tiny thing.