Love Poetry For Couple

Now you are strong And we are but grapes aching with ripeness. Crush us! Squeeze from us all the brave life Contained in these full skins. But ours is a subtle strength Potent with centuries of yearning, Of being kegged and shut away In dark forgotten places. We shall endure To steal your senses In that lonely twilight Of your winter�s grief. https://www.flickr.com/people/192846511@N02/ https://www.pinterest.com/armybombver4net/ https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1027313364969404690/ https://imgur.com/user/armybombver4net/about https://imgur.com/gallery/SQ4GaRn https://imageshack.com/user/armybombver4net https://diigo.com/0kdkd7 https://500px.com/p/armybombver4?view=photos https://www.behance.net/armybombver4 https://pixabay.com/users/armybombver4-21365829/ https://soundcloud.com/armybombver4 https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-586kq-10232b1 https://anchor.fm/army-bomber4/episodes/The-Armybombver4-net-Season-1-Episode-1-e1007us https://www.buzzsprout.com/1771280/episodes/8...

Dear Ol' Dirty Bastard: I too like it raw, I don't especially care for Duke Ellington at a birthday party. I care less and less about the shapes of shapes because forms change and nothing is more durable than feeling. My uncle used the money I gave him to buy a few vials of what looked like candy after the party where my grandma sang in an outfit that was obviously made for a West African king. My motto is Never mistake what it is for what it looks like. My generosity, for example, is mostly a form of vanity. A bandanna is a useful handkerchief, but a handkerchief is a useless-ass bandanna. This only looks like a footnote in my report concerning the party. Trill stands for what is truly real though it may be hidden by the houses just over the hills between us, by the hands on the bars between us. That picture of my grandmother with my uncle when he was a baby is not trill. What it is is the feeling felt seeing garbagemen drift along the predawn avenues,...

When my father snores he sucks in the whole world and releases it in one pure breath. At night I�d come into his room where he would pass out on the bed� too drunk to change his clothes or put out his cigarette, which had burnt itself down to the embers. I pulled off his shoes and watched him sleep, smelling his sweet, stale breath fill the room in waves. He was so out of it I could put my finger into his mouth and pull it out before he inhaled. Once I let my finger linger a second too long and his tongue touched the flat of my tip. I thought of going in deeper, first a hand, then an arm; the tender cutlet of my body swallowed whole by my father. But I was barely enough to make him cough. He rolled over on his side, leaving a well in the space where his body had been. I crawled back into my own bed, as my father slept the peaceful sleep of ogres, feeling the house shake with his rhythmic tremors. January's blog: January Gill O'Neil's blog Amazon page: January Gill O'Nei...

won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed. Lucille Clifton

January Gill O'Neil

Nikki Giovanni was born today in Knoxville, Tennessee, in 1943. I went to school in Maryville, a few kilometres from Knoxville. Wikipedia says that "on April 17, 2007, at the Virginia Tech Convocation commemorating the April 16 Virginia Tech massacre, Giovanni closed the ceremony with a chant poem, intoning: We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on. We are embracing our mourning. We are Virginia Tech... We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imagination and the possibilities, we will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears, through all this sadness, we are the Hokies. We will prevail, we will prevail, we will prevail. We are Virginia Tech." " Giovanni's writing has been heavily inspired by African-American activists and artists. She has a tattoo with the words 'Thug life' to honor Tupac Shakur, whom she admired. Her book 'Love Poems' (1997) was written i...