I speak my feelings in my little poems and hardly anywhere else.
We come into this world all alone and we are lucky if we leave with someone holding our hand.
My poems are inspired by my life and the lives of others....they are not all autobiographical.....but some are.....I'm not saying which is which.....sorry Red: -)
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Ruby Honeytip Poems
A Booby Trap!
She is not flesh and bones Of insignificance. She is intelligent substance, And decency of character.
The Mainstream Is Polluted
'Hey, over here! ' Said the road less followed 'Here is the antidote, For the lies you have swallowed.
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!
A Date Night
She looks beautiful for their movie date Flushed, she is running a little late. Excited to see his beautiful face, She sees him there and they embrace.
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.
You hurt me, Scared me, Bruised me, Tried to extinguish me
I realized long ago, There are no huge plans for me There will be no fanfare as I pass through My meat pie destiny.
A Sexy Samba
Sweat trickles down my bare back. It tickles as it wetly trails To the base of my spine. My hips sway,
The wind blowing through your hair, Hits my face from the same direction. I brush the hair out of my eyes So I can keep them on you.
I have no problem understanding The concept of being numberless to you, You can forget me, But I'm still around.
He has an innate kindness That has sown A seed of togetherness Into the middle
Listen Dear, you caught me, In a compromising pose. I thought you'd be gone for longer When a needy thought arose.
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!
It's him! She picks up. The deep timbre Of his voice
(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)
A Booby Trap!
She is not flesh and bones
She is intelligent substance,
And decency of character.
She is womanly flesh
Of hand felt proportions!
She knows her way,
And will hold your hand
Until you safely find yours.
There is no judgement in her compassion,
Although, there is a giggle in her eyes.
And a wiggle in her walk.
Faith and love are the warmth
In her nature.
There is a nurturing heart
Beating under the fullness of her breast....
Did somebody say 'Breast'?
Holy Bazoongas! ! !
Most of the time,
The story ends ...