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Poems by Mike Bushnell


what has thou seen
flying from heart to darkness in dream
how is that?
Bring back my dreams this is my plea
in this world of endless light
no more
no more of this perilous blight

Where has thou been?
Lamenting in hope
or in world of sin
help my mind take wing
and soar into nocturnal splendor

bring prudence to me
insidious nightmares
tug at my thought
deploring false depictions onto my unfit mind
undying images that seer into the soul
until you take long rest

bring back good dreams
take here my images of pensive moon beams
dripping light out on
her locks of gold
helping me through the night
I miss my dreams
long for their warmth

retrace my steps
find me a life of childhood
bring me a laugh
take me a jolt
a day in the park
not in my dreams
plagued with unyielding malice of the mind
ominous clouds loom over my park
attaining any chance of a smile
without a glance underfoot, over head
to my ominous clouds
fearing my fury from above
to my unsuspecting dream world
of love

Selfish Needs

I don't want what she wants
I yearn for something else
She angrily throbs for the caress of an unwilling hand
over the fleshy hills and valleys of her body
I dream of her smile shinning only into my Contemplative eyes
tales of her heart and love filled memory trickling into my ear and mind
etching her name eternally into my being
searing every word into my soul
and every blink of her eye a period to the lengthy sentences
that can't help but entrap my thought

I don't want what she wants
as she lies there sweaty toothed, clothes strewn upon the floor
begging with her stare for me to come nearer
I long to turn away
She holds only thoughts of lust and sinful contact
these are what impel her squalid heart of desire
not in my mind
I crave a world of mental pleasure,
hearts entwined captivated by every breath we take
and strung to every word of love that flows from our caring mouths

I don't want what she wants
She hungers only for the incomparable touch just inside her pale thigh
She craves for a body alongside her
without a thought of love
Living in her deluded dream world of desire
she never thinks ahead, never wonders what pain
may abruptly shatter her nirvana of carnal lust
I wish only to touch her heart
complete it to divine exultation
fill its endless measure to its brim

I don't want what she wants
She wants things that she doesn't understand
I plead everyday to return her from the musty heart
she has grown to neglect
yet she wants feeling with no feeling
not worth the tools of love I've come to understand
I cannot take the remorseless mental drain
that she inflicts with her self-centered demands
I shall forever stay here trying to find her lost star
of her unreachable
for the only thing i want from her
Is what I cannot obtain

I don't want what she wants
I yearn for something else


There’s a tree outside my window
calling to my mind
swaying in its beauty
forever growing to its space

what has it seen?
Where has it been
this great tree of knowledge
elderly seems the whispers in its branches

tells a story with every faint gust
stories, wondrous tales of his undying soul
Nancy + Dave carved into his soul
married are they 15 years this fall

a fire that burned down his family
turning the once alluring forest
into few lone trees that survived
the untimely massacre

recounting the first kisses
stole beneath his leafy shade
from all these anecdotes he has
there are none of him self

none to tell of his first kiss
for he has no lips to speak of
carving into a fellow friend?
Only if the towering branches
fall upon some unsuspecting shrub

no, no tales of his heart
can he whisper through the wind
so through all his years

how much has my tree grown
the one dancing just beyond my windowpane

Feelings paper and pen
ready to take the adventure that's glory eludes most men
trying to abscond from the past and hide
or new places to go, join me on my ride
bringing thought of deaths touch near
or the somber call of a child's salty tear
a despondent stroll down memory's lane
or the watchful eye observing adolescent lovers in a soft summers rain
you may be ensnared by a mothers laugh or soft spoken good-bye
some bringing a tear of dolor to your eye
take wing over hopelessness over despair
stories of those who help one's who are always there
aches right to the bone with feeling's of being lost, bereft, and alone
hear cries of souls gone weary, listless in their tone
loved ones illuminated by a lost moon beam
the trickle of your souls great steam
feel the warmth of lovers dreams, hear natures unmade sound
feeling your heart pound as the writer holds you spell bound
following where their thoughts so freely go
as their dreams form, their words flow
and forever with that, no matter when
there is an adventure, when a poet picks up his paper and pen.

Our Word

You can look it up in a dictionary
you can go around and inquiry
but it is hard to understand its meaning
you know the word at which I’m leaning
It’s evasive and elusive
it can be invasive and intrusive
you can search for it, but you cant find then it sneaks
up from behind
plays hide and seek
take's the strong, hinders them weak
takes the weak, gives them great strength
rights all the past wrong
takes you to heights never dreamed before
leave you fulfilled, but still craving more
a word people are always thinking of
my word is that, your word is love

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Biographical sketch: I am a budding 15-year-old poet. When I am no writing, or even sometimes when I am, I am listening to the Beatles or any other music of their era, playing baseball, or attending Osbourn High School, where I am attempting being published with the English department head.

Mike Bushnell recommends:

In His Own Write by John Lennon

Reason: It shows so many different aspects of how he looks at things. It is as if it were in the
write of the world instead of his own.

Recommendations for writers:

Get out of your head, sit outside and look in, don't let the fact that you know what you are writing take away from others who want to know your thoughts.


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