When Tomorrow Comes

Sarah Doughty

“I keep going. That’s surviving.
That’s what it takes to make it to tomorrow.”

I often wonder, late at night, while the world around me is fast asleep, why I’m the one still awake. The one gazing at the moon and the twinkling stars. I wonder why my mind races from one thing to next. Maybe I’m terrified I will forget something of importance. Maybe I already have. Or maybe it’s a byproduct of trying to hold myself together when I feel like breaking into a million pieces. And that’s when I remember. It’s because I don’t stop. I keep going. That’s surviving. That’s what it takes to make it to tomorrow, only to start all over again.

© Sarah Doughty

And that’s the point:
making it to tomorrow.

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The Hunger ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

I can feel myself falling
Knowing she is giving herself to me
We both know it
We both want it
She looks at me
Then looks down
And whispers, “I am yours”
I lift her chin and say, “I know”
There is much to be given
Much to be taken
I pull her close
Kissing her
As we both feed our hunger
Hearts racing
Breathing faster
Buttons unbuttoned
Hooks unhooked
Passion builds
And two become one

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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This poem was a collaboration with Rose of Poet Rummager published in May 4, 2017.
I am posting it again because this is one of many haikus i have written and a personal favorite; while at the same time one of the collaborations which really boasted my site.

Within this brick wall,
lies my heart where no light shines.
Rejected, it sleeps.

Hidden in the dark –
dreaming so damn hard and tight.
You’re not mine, it weeps.

In this tiny room,
my heart beats against the stone –
bruised yet still hopeful.

Bleeding and in pain,
it yearns to be free again.
Walls start to crumble.

Deep scars you might keep.
Love may fade, but you decide –
Are you strong or weak?

Haiku poetry by Michnavs and Poet Rummager

Illustration by Poet Rummager

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Her heart an impenetrable vault

stockaded against any intrusion

too many setbacks had left her battered

tired, disappointed and disillusioned

moonbeams could not lift her spirit

nor the faraway stars offer any hope

no blossom brought a smile on her face

sadness, her life’s recurring trope

black and grey her favourite colours

no splash of other hue to brighten her days

disinterested and no longer curious

she needed to snap out of this malaise.

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