This is my first true form poem, a villanelle. Three tercets and a quatrain, aba rhyme, and the first and last line in the first stanza gets repeated as the ending alternating in each following stanza ending with a quatrain in ab with the refrain. That was a horrible explanation but you can google it.

Villanelle

I know right now you're here with me,
by the hold of a lovers embrace.
But you'll be back with him someday,

and anyone would agree.
But underneath the blankets lace,
I know right now you're here with me.

As I closed my eyelids softly,
I fell asleep, and saw his face.
You'll be back with him someday.

Pushing it out of memory,
as we drift far off into space,
I know right now you're here with me.

As lucky now as I could ever be,
before you fall from grace.
You'll be back with him someday.

I wonder if I'll ever see
that this is always is the case.
I know right now you're here with me,
but you'll be back with him someday.

Poem by a pen given by a pretty girl

For monthes I have been
living in the fog.
It isn't easy, but
it isn't hard.

it is nothing.

Ambiguity masked as
clarity in our mind.
Eating all our flesh,
dissolving all our time.

Blame the fog
its everywhere
Blame the fog
you put it there

Money can't help
not clothes
no haircut
cell phones, cars, pagers
no
theres something inside
sometimes it speaks
to me

in between i wait

It spoke to me today;
just a whisper
and it was gone.
(Un)fortunately for you
it drowned away
and is gone.

Instead of some
inspired insight,
you get this.

But it's not so bad.
You can't disagree
with dead ideas.

And isn't that what
you really want?

Monday morning commute after a fatal derailment

When we wake up
to die
there can be a certain
uneasiness
in our stomachs.

Some smile nervously
and hope against fear.
Most recall the events
of another day (not so far away).

New faces in starched
whites
make for uneasy
exchanged glances.

But the pages
turn;
the day forgotten.
Lattes are sipped,
lipstick applied.

But for the wise
they are ready,
and know the importence
of every switched track,
on every old bridge,
or any pathless road.

As the ambulance
is towed away
and hope has
finally died,

I know there
is no written promise
the sun will ever
rise again.

Everyday is a
risk (worth taking)
if nothing else
but to see our
story unfold.

Either here, or
on the frong page
of a less worldly times.

A Dumb Poem

When your mind is lost
and there's no where to run,
when your high is gone
and your fun is done,
You become a dumb poem.

At the break of dawn
in the moonlit night
when your heart has died
and you've thrown the fight
There is only a dumb poem

Strive as you may
you'll only soon find
the hope has drained
from all mankind
We are all dumb poems.

A poem written in alot of pain

The only sanity you can keep
exists between the margins
of a line you never wrote
and have since long forgotten.

Clenching bleeding fists that
crumbled on the pavement,
anything that leaves you
asking where the pain went.

Kill me now-Kill me then,
it does not matter which.
To take for granted daily health
is my sole surviving wish

The Smoke Screen

A poem written high
atop, the tallest city wall
written high across the
sky, the highest of them all

Fences and chains
hold me back
I really should come down
but when I looked
I saw a man
smiling through a frown

"Come down now"
said the man
although it wasn't true
"We'll stay for now"
we replied
thats when I
kissed you

I held it in
the thought of course
the hold you have on me
"Goodbye" I said to you that day
"Our love could never be"

You escaped my
lips and walked away
in a moment you were gone
I begin to wonder to
myself
If I had been all wrong

Just then, you had returned
and stole back all my
thoughts
"Together forever, in
body and mind, I'll
never leave your side.
Together, sit back
succumb to me, for
a long and lonely ride."

Old Stuff

Here are a couple old ones I saw on the computer, still many more old ones to come when I type them out. Thanks

A Happy Poem

I was looking through
my work
and I realized I
haven't written a happy
poem in awhile.

A happy poem.

that takes care of that.

Thousand Years Time

If the words I write
will be lost in a thousand years time,
why do I rewrite, erase
for whom do I revise?

I don't write for the future
for I know nothing of their life,
and they only pretend to know mine.
I write for now
I write to you

you.

To who it may concerns: I love you

To live in the world today
Is hardly what it used to be
But who can really say
What the rest will hold in store for me

Life works in mysterious ways bog said
sometimes ideals control your mind
In a mental region just past dead
It’s amazing what you’ll find

One day a half man spoke the word
I was ashamed to hear its true
He was stunned to have been cured, he said
And then we celebrated blue

Gather now and listen here
I have something to say
I no longer have to live in fear
So why can’t god be gay?

the disease

poets arent allowed to clock out
we dont have that luxury
always something to say
theres always someone to break

we work every day
every minute
and you thought your job
was rough
i dont get paid

sometimes i think we're slaves
of god
sent to narrate
and other times
i dont think at all

sometimes i hope im contagious
so i have someone to laugh at too