Mike Frawley
If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.
Richard Bach

dontcryitsonlymike:

teapoesie:

would you kiss
my coffee lips?

Yes but please remember
it could never be tea for me

Metaphors

dontcryitsonlymike:

Searching for meaning in metaphors
sharing hearts and catching stars
we almost made it didn’t we
I love you
and every day I miss you more

mikefrawley:

Tell me where it hurts she asked
Everywhere you’re not

The Green Side of the Grass

dontcryitsonlymike:

I don’t know why but today I was thinking back on my days in early recovery and I remembered my friend and sponsor, or mentor Charlie.  Broadly smiling one day he asked me how I was.  To be honest I wasn’t the happiest of campers at the time and immediately went into my poor me diatribe.  He patiently waited til I finished whining then asked, Did you wake up on the green side of the grass today?  I halfheartedly and petulantly responded yes.  His smile never faded and his voice grew only slightly louder as he replied, Then shut the eff up, you’re having a great day.  My friend Charlie is wise indeed.  Every day we’re alive is a great day.  The trick is in the remembering. 

Every Man’s Nightmare

dontcryitsonlymike:

She smiled baby hold on tight
it’s going to be a bumpy ride
don’t say a word or try to fight
my passion will not be denied

There’s no escape no excuses
you’re all mine at least til dawn
all resistance will be useless
and I’m warning you, it’s so on

For a moment no one talked
I didn’t quite know what to say
as she had every exit blocked
I simply smiled and said okay

Late Summer

lzlabs:

As late summer closes her eyes
resting like a volcano
wheat fields sway
golden and drenched
from the heat of summer rays
maze rises high above my head
tassels floating midair
calling to the bees
while beards of silk
change color in a breeze

we walk through meadows
overgrown with wildflowers
and wheat grass
stepping slowly in the heat
finding shade
against the cooling bark
of a little nook
tucked under an age old oak tree
hiding from the heat
of a late summer sun…

I just dig you

braveheartswhisper:

You’re so different from me and that’s why I dig you.
You’re so much like me and that’s
why I dig you.

You dig?

MA BELLE

poorphraser:

With you, I get to be Paul McCartney

I say the only words that you understand

But Serge Gainsbourg wrote the song from which I’m quoting

My accent’s awful, still you laugh ‘C’est grand’

It’s strange that lips that do not mouth the same words

fit perfectly together when they touch

You whisper in my nibbled ear ‘Je t’embrace’

So I reply ‘I like you very much’

This thing we share could be seen as romantic

A couple from a poor scripted love story

But as the novelty wears off your lack of English

is less endearing (and starting to quite bore me)

C’est la fin.

 

Shiva

poeticallyprofound:

Idioms and idolatry
Prophecies, apostrophes
All mean absolutely nothing to me
Honestly
The Devil isn’t in the flesh, he’s in the filigree
Revel in the reverie
Of in between breaths
Remarkably
We should touch in degrees
Don’t you agree?
I have no idea where I should go
Yet, this mouthful of palpable
Parables, mountains of gold
Out beyond where infinite rivers flow
Bask in the ambiance, take in the afterglow
The pillar I was thrust upon, I wouldn’t know
Mask me in the undertow
And watch as these shivers slither through fingers
Slivers of winter
And a pound of snow
A constantly ever changing internal dialogue could prove
Whether or not I’m more alive than the other corpse in the room
Yet still somehow the pile of ashes continues to grow
I’m too busy finding my third eye to notice the fumes
Building up to take me home

Bláthíne

poetry-and-insomnia:

You know I am here,
And that I see you in the clear­ing
Among the acorns and twigs,
Propped up against the oak
In a silken gown ripped at the knee.

From the clutches of Cú Roí
I had taken you, over hills,
And now the acorns are stained
And his men head back.

And you have taken my blade, have you not?

Mem­o­ries of the sod­den path,
The dusty sum­mer track,
Carv­ings in the trees,
Fade with the blackbird’s song.

Lit­tle Flower at the oak’s foot
Holds the mud’s gaze.

Imagine

pinnacleofthoughts:

There is nothing sad

about her loneliness.

She writes poetry

during imaginary autumns

and steals kisses

from lovers to be.

She basks In a world

of pure imagination.

It is the only place 

she is truly free.

Til Love is Set Free

dontcryitsonlymike:

The broken pieces rearranged
nations and families estranged
the past in jagged shattered bits
how can you say the puzzle fits

For so long we’ve wondered lost
wisdom won at a most dear cost
love lies in prison with no parole
and anger can never heal a soul

All the fear and hatred we release
always asking where’s the peace
sadly we will never see that day
til love is set free to lead the way

Sometimes we should all over ourselves

dontcryitsonlymike:

I heard that my first time in recovery many years ago.  The woman who shared it with me was a coworker, counselor, most worthy adversary to a young man who knew everything, and ultimately a friend.  Sadly a few years later she relapsed and being an R.N. she knew exactly which combination of pills and alcohol would do the trick.  I attended her funeral, yet to this day I still possess and try to share a couple of gifts that she left me.  One is the title of this piece, and while I’m often guilty of this, I sadly see it far too often in many of my young friends here as well as in what I like to refer to as the “real” world.   I should have studied harder, I should have married him or her, I should have never been born,  Whoa!  Let me stop you right there.  Even if in the craziest example that I can think up, you were somehow the result of a defective condom, and let’s make it even worse and say that one of your parents even horrifically told you that, I should never have been born is a LIE.  Whether you choose to agree with me or not, if you’re here, you are supposed to be here, and you deserve to be.  As for all these other shoulds (lies) we tell ourselves, certainly you and I have made mistakes, but we’re not perfect and neither are we supposed to be.  The world will be more than happy to kick your behind, probably even numerous times if you stick around long enough.  The truth is we need all the friends we can get and number one might as well be that beautiful child that stands before you in the mirror each day.  Tell them I may have made a mistake, but I certainly am not one.  Let the shoulds go, do your best and results be damned, YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH!  Love yourself please my friends.  I have issues with this as well, yet I know in my heart of hearts that we, you and I are indeed worthy of this most precious of gifts.