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Carl Roussell

of

Hamilton, Ontario, CA

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Alone

by

Carl Roussell

Alone
But not lonely
And you won't be angry with me
Because I needed time
Alone


No Risk

by

Carl Roussell

Wrapping arms and legs around each other,
letting the physical sensations flow between
the sheets and the two of you.
You pulse quickens to match the rythymic motions

Even the you can't tell her how you feel
What you know is reserved for the page
that will be filled with your words
Such a safe way for expression

No risk of someone rejecting your emotions
No risk of someone playing with your feelings
No one knowing if this is real
or the airing of an overactive imagination

Are These Words Too Loud

by

Carl Roussell

Not just another pretty face
I see in a crowd
Yours is the only face I see
Are these words too loud?

Friend is not a word I use
Very often, and love
Is one I use even less
I will say these words to you

Can't Control

by

Carl Roussell

I feel my feet on the ground
but the ground is moving,
Moving to the feelings
I can't control

An impossible task today
trying to find firm footing,
Moving to the feelings
I can't control

I think I know what to do
but I am not sure who I am now,
Moving to the feelings
I can't control

And Only For a Moment

by

Carl Roussell

As a desert where life is
often lying dormant,
Waiting for the moisture
of the clouds to grow once more
into a myriad of colour

The raindrops fall,
Wetting the ground around us,
Keeping life in our love
from drying an dying
into nothingness

And only for a moment,
As in the desert,
Barren and seemingly
lifeless and alone,
May we be as one

Candle

by

Carl Roussell

A candle burns in the window
Too brightly for anyone to see,
Because the window is closed
And the drapes are drawn

A candle burns in the window
too brightly for anyone to see
The one holding the candle
Is me

You Have Been Asked

by

Carl Roussell

You have been asked
not to touch me,
a feeling I usually don't like
I like too much when it is you

You have been asked
not to crowd me,
because you'll never bee close enough

Writing

by

Carl Roussell

To me it doesn't matter all the time
to hear what people feel about my work.
Asking how it is one finds the words.
Sometimes I myself wonder
where the words come from.

Must wriring always be with an intent?
Can't one write for the pleasure it brings
For the world to see, or maybe no one else?
I wonder which this will be
To put into words a thoughty, an emotion

It is when I read the words from the page
and stand back almost disbelieving
that is my hand that wrote the words.
Imagine the feeling if you can,
somtimes the feeling is within me

Writing is always done with intent,
if for no other reason tham the pleasure it brings
for the world to see, or maybe no one else
I know which this will be.
To have put into words a thought for you to see

You Have Been Asked

by

Carl Roussell

You have been asked
not to touch me,
a feeling I usually don't like
I like too much when it is you

You have been asked
not to crowd me,
because you'll never bee close enough

Writing

by

Carl Roussell

To me it doesn't matter all the time
to hear what people feel about my work.
Asking how it is one finds the words.
Sometimes I myself wonder
where the words come from.

Must wriring always be with an intent?
Can't one write for the pleasure it brings
For the world to see, or maybe no one else?
I wonder which this will be
To put into words a thoughty, an emotion

It is when I read the words from the page
and stand back almost disbelieving
that is my hand that wrote the words.
Imagine the feeling if you can,
somtimes the feeling is within me

Writing is always done with intent,
if for no other reason tham the pleasure it brings
for the world to see, or maybe no one else
I know which this will be.
To have put into words a thought for you to see