Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.
x

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.
x

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.
 x

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

by Robert Frost 

sorry for breaking your heart the other day

On Tuesday I look You in the face and tell You that I can't stay with You anymore things aren't working out like You said they would I don't feel I can trust You I say to You that I can't seem to find You anymore everything is in the way my skin is black and blue and I find myself staring and crying at nothing

then I notice Your eyes

and I think that I really should stay with You 
that I have nowhere else to go

and after all if I did walk away from You then soon after I would certainly come back and then I would have lost days and weeks and months or (God-forbid) even years with You

and when I am honest with myself

that thought is more than my skin and my bones and my beating heart can possibly bear

A Lament

you, the sweetest one
irreplaceable
irresistible (to everyone, my dear)

when you went away
a piece of me died too

and I miss you
not like a favourite television show that went off the air in the nineties
or an old song I used to listen to on cassette in high school and can't find anywhere
not like cheap petrol prices or when everyone was fine with tap water
more like a piece of land - home
burned away by the Fire
or like grandmother's jewels
taken one night by thieves dressed in black
perhaps like a rib

we all leave here a little messy in the end
our pages yellow and rolled up
corners folded in by everyone

so now I'm old, grey and soft around the edges
too grey for this bright world
too soft for this stone humanity
and I still miss you so much

something for us

her life is one hundred yellow helium balloons dancing in the sky
and you and me on earth on tippy toes holding strings
our eyes squinting in the gold sun
the wind moving her this way and that
we hold her forever
  and never

Dare Ocean

on the 18th day you came
we prepared our hearts and lives
but you (always one step ahead of us all, dearest)
arrived with a bang
and stole the show
invaded our hearts like
beautiful, a bit-too-loud-at-first, colourful fireworks
in the night
the ones that take your breath away a little bit
and make you hold onto lovers tight
oh the un-named colours that you are

Goldie Harlow

you, our darling
are the version of us
we had been waiting for

you answered the questions
and finished the sentences

the stars themselves could not have dreamed
my body growing the divinity that you are

the flesh, spirit and bones in me
some heaven creature
put on earth to change it

the whole ocean can not contain your heart of gold

a life full of love and other things

I think about the first car trip we took (you and me)

in the wide open spaces of Indiana land.

The happy fall sun would drip all over our bodies

as we sing and walk and talk and marvel that we found each other.

Then, it was just you and me

in a different time and a different world.

I still think about those car trips

where we would drive for hours.

I would lean over and kiss your mouth on the side

and you were charming (as always, my dear)

and I was at home, with you.

You loved me back to life

and today, a thousand years later

I am still only at home when I am with you.

It was an other time in the world then.

Things were simpler,

purer and funnier.

And as we got older and more of the world

we saw,

we realized things needed to get funnier.

We had to learn to laugh everyday.

if we didn't laugh, we cried.

Cause things seemed to get sort of serious for a few years,

people died, divorced, got hurt, and things got really broken...

And even today, so many years later, we are still sitting in the car

you and me

small lovers in the big world

and I still lean over to kiss your wrinkly face and perfect mouth (on the side)

and we talk and laugh about the state of the world

the money we spent

the money we saved

and where we should eat dinner tonight.

I will always say you loved me back to life. 

© 2011 Lauren Stamper