Mid sentence on a December night

LOL, Naw Hopesings,

If you don’t hear it in the 364? One day’s “crowing” is just one day’s “crowing”.

It’s the biggest holiday for florist and probably one of the biggest for jewelers.

Held Hostage For a Flower

Hmm That would be a good title for a poem

I was held hostage for a flower.
If he bought them?
He loved me.
If he didn’t
He did not.
How could I tell his love otherwise.
If there were no standard for him to bear.
No barometer of our love for my friends to see
Nay and foresooth.
I needed that kings ransom to tell the tale.
So I’d know for sure that he loved me.

😀

ann 28 dec 2009

Advertisements

6 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

6 responses to “Mid sentence on a December night

  1. I’m in a poetry frame of mind.

    It started out as heart burn
    Acid reflux
    Snoring.
    You took the covers and left the cold.

    Cold feet
    Cold heart
    Warm tuna salad.

    Oh no!

    LIke Cupid’s arrow..

    It grew into a virus
    An intestinal influenza
    I moaned in the throws
    Of feeling I’d never known

    The aroma engulfed me
    The pain and agony propelled me
    To that land at turns familiar and yet brand new.

    Ah this feeling
    I have assended it’s golden thrown
    A pure white like the clouds in heaven
    I tense at the feeling new
    And then relax into the inevitable

    Flush.

    Remember, when it comes to Love?

    I don’t do windows

    Ann 28 December, 2009

    (original poetry, all rights reserved by the author. That’s me)

  2. I’m in a poetry frame of mind.

    “… And then relaxed into the inevitable…”

    It started out as heart burn
    Acid reflux
    Snoring.
    You took the covers and left the cold.

    Cold feet
    Cold heart
    Warm tuna salad.

    Oh no!

    LIke Cupid’s arrow..

    It grew into a virus
    An intestinal influenza
    I moaned in the throws
    Of feeling I’d never known

    The aroma engulfed me
    The pain and agony propelled me
    To that land at turns familiar and yet brand new.

    Ah this feeling
    I have assended it’s golden thrown
    A pure white like the clouds in heaven
    I tense at the feeling new
    And then relax into the inevitable

    Flush.

    Remember, when it comes to Love?

    I don’t do windows

    Ann 28 December, 2009

    (original poetry, all rights reserved by the author. That’s me)

  3. I don’t do windows

    Or Emo if I can help it.

    Well you know it’s coming. As soon as New Years comes and goes, as soon as the last ash tray is cleaned and all the glasses are washed, It’s time for Valentine’s day.

    I don’t do Valentine’s Day. It’s origin creeps me out. Old guy stalks young girl for “spiritual love”. Ick. Then theres the forced expression of love. Skip the fourteenth and tell me you love me the other 364 days. Last year I wrote about a cactus. How love isn’t measured by the number of roses. Sometimes it’s measure is in a cactus.

    Measured in the seconds of the everyday.

    Or dumped somewhere on highway 9

    Ah love.
    Composted
    Like last years roses
    Or this years promises
    We take off like the wings of doves

    All flutters

    Love past tense.
    All glow of sunsets
    And words sent
    Nothing more than the green flash before sunset

    LOL ,I’m an old dog. Been around a long time. When the bloom is off the rose? Sometimes the only thing left is compost.

    And that’s if you’re lucky.

    Remember. The infatuation of love? It’s an addiction.

    Like crack.

    Oh Love

    You have lifted my heart

    I fly.

    Now I know love returned.

    Good thing I ducked.

    Otherwise that pot full of love you returned would’a hit me.

    Unlike Cupid’s arrow that would’a hurt.

    LOL, next up?

    It’s almost another year.

  4. 12dogsblog

    I don’t do windows

    Or Emo if I can help it.

    Well you know it’s coming. As soon as New Years comes and goes, as soon as the last ash tray is cleaned and all the glasses are washed, It’s time for Valentine’s day.

    I don’t do Valentine’s Day. It’s origin creeps me out. Old guy stalks young girl for “spiritual love”. Ick. Then theres the forced expression of love. Skip the fourteenth and tell me you love me the other 364 days. Last year I wrote about a cactus. How love isn’t measured by the number of roses. Sometimes it’s measure is in a cactus.

    Measured in the seconds of the everyday.

    Or dumped somewhere on highway 9

    Ah love.
    Composted
    Like last years roses
    Or this years promises
    We take off like the wings of doves

    All flutters

    Love past tense.
    All glow of sunsets
    And words sent
    Nothing more than the green flash before sunset

    LOL ,I’m an old dog. Been around a long time. When the bloom is off the rose? Sometimes the only thing left is compost.

    And that’s if you’re lucky.

    Remember. The infatuation of love? It’s an addiction.

    Like crack.

    Oh Love

    You have lifted my heart

    I fly.

    Now I know love returned.

    Good thing I ducked.

    Otherwise that chamber pot full of love you sent?

    Would’ve hit me. Hard.

    Unlike Cupid’s arrow that would’a hurt.

    LOL, next up?

    It’s almost another year.

  5. 12dogsblog

    I haven’t done an interactive Blog Story in a while. So.

    It’s early. The New Year will be here in a day or two and there’s all of January and resolutions to think about. Valentine’s day shouldn’t even be on the radar. The thing is that my feet are cold and the weather’s about to be dreary again.

    We, Gentle Reader, need a pick me up.

    A gentle diversion.

    What better way than to think about the other day that owns the color red.

    Valentine’s Day

    Hmm.

    So there I was. Mid sentence on a December night. It’s almost another year. for New Year’s greetings from 12 dogs.

    Hugs,

    Ann

    Path

    I know it’s early but … A 12 dogs Interactive Blog story. Kind of.

    Mid sentence on a December night.

    I don’t do windows

    “… And then relaxed into the inevitable…”

    I don’t do windows

    or/next

    It’s almost another year.

    I sure have missed the Interactive Blog Stories.

    Hugs.

    • 12dogsblog

      Opps out of order

      Story should go

      I know it’s early but … A 12 dogs Interactive Blog story. Kind of.

      Mid sentence on a December night.

      I don’t do windows

      “… And then relaxed into the inevitable…”

      It’s almost another year.

      I sure have missed the Interactive Blog Stories.

      Hugs.

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s