Photos of Barbie Angell by Rodney Smith - Tempus Fugit Design © 2013
Today’s News 
The headlines read that Love is dead. 
By a bullet, through the head. 

The newsman screamed, “There’s no vaccine!” 

While Hate and Rage are killing Dreams. 

Then one bright day, Nite went away. 

He took the Moon. They’re gone to stay. 

And God just laughed while we all crashed. 

Our futures died back in the past. 

While Time edged on through Sorrow’s song. 

The dark refrain to keep him strong. 

And still not found, in the heart of town, 

a bit of Peace lies on the ground. 

My lonely cries are no surprise 

to those who’ve seen behind my eyes. 

The headlines read that Love is dead. 

But not a tear was ever shed. 

The Weather in Here. 
My love is a blizzard of emotions 
snowed in by circumstance. 
Driven to it’s breaking point 

leaving nothing but the chance 

of you and me encircled 

in a thunderstorm embrace. 

The winds of ever after 

blowing heavy in my face. 

Twisting past the landscape, 

the horizon in your laugh. 

Drinking in each moment, 

lightning flashes of our past. 

My feelings are a mammoth wave 

rushing endless of the tide. 

But the scenery of my heart 

is peaceful deep inside. 


 I think there’s something wrong.  I’m sure I must be sick, 

‘cause whenever he stands next to me 

my heart beats awfully quick. 

My complexion changes color 

to a kind of pinkish-red 

and the words that spill from out of me 

weren’t the ones from in my head. 

I think he must have some strange flu 

which keeps infecting me, 

‘cause everytime he’s by my side 

I get a weakness in my knees. 

I thought I ought to tell him. 

Something must be going ‘round. 

But there hasn’t been a perfect time, 

at least none that I have found. 

I’m fine when I am by myself 

‘till my thoughts all go astray, 

and I found myself still feeling sick 

when I thought of him today. 

I guess I should see a doctor, 

get prescriptions for some pills, 

‘cause everytime I see this guy 

I start to feel quite ill. 

Nuno’s Poem 
She chased Happiness down the stairs 
and then out the back door. 
She lost him in the street 

down by the record store. 

She caught him two weeks later 

and he quickly got away. 

So she followed him discreetly 

to find out where he stayed. 

She tried to trick and trap him 

to keep him by her side. 

But every time she turned around, 

Happiness would hide. 

I don’t know why she sought him out, 

why she didn’t wait for him, 

but on and on went her pursuit 

though she could never win. 

They found her in the courtyard, 

in the center of the town, 

her world a mess, like all the rest, 

‘cause someone let her down. 

She sat alone and cried there. 

She knew this was the end…. 

Then Happiness approached her 

and asked to be her friend. 

I am. 
I’m an ingenue without the charm. 
A writer with a broken arm. 
I’m a lover with no man in sight. 

A fighter of forgotten rights. 

I’m the girl you see alone at nite. 

I’m the peace that makes the poets write. 

I’m in love with a man who doesn’t exist. 

Missing the lips I never have kissed. 

I’m living a life that no one has tried. 

Searching for solace while un-knotting lies. 

I breathe in the sorrow of humanity’s eyes. 

And in the end it’s my kindness that dies. 

Taken for granted is the way of the world. 

Though, after the fact, I’m the ideal girl. 

And hard as they try to make me come back, 

I cannot forget their most recent attacks. 

The sense of compassion that they always lack. 

My love and affection returned with a smack. 

I’m a symptom of a new disease. 

I’m the answer to a young boy’s pleas. 

I’m the voice that keeps you wide awake. 

I’m the one who gives before she takes. 

I’m the girl who sees what’s on the plate…. 

and love has been my worst mistake. 










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4 Responses

    1. thank you….that’s sweet of you to say. let me know if there’s any particular style or topic you would like to see more of….i have such a difficult time deciding what to post. : )

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