Love is not white on black or black on white; neither black on black or white on white. How few ever set eye on sight ... and Love ...
In Monochrome, one may grasp but a shadow.
PhotoArt: Myra, 2008 -- Self.One
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darkness
turns pale to hide -
an ironheart
flung -
He was a weekend drinker. My mother literally put him to bed ... This way we were all safe for a short while.
Well, this was a Saturday a28 lines, 9 comments, on Apr 2 12:45 PM 2008. In Personal, Memories, Lessons of Life. Perceptions, Prose -
the voice used to walk around
on soleless sandles -
Winter Rain
Drizzle ... -
globalize decay
-
on returning
to a beginning -
-
I thought I saw an angel
she was draped in simple gown -
Two weeks after your funeral
-
The setting was not glamorous,
neither romantic ... -
She woke at night in haunted house
and heard a melody of Strauss ... -
Abandoned in this agony and fear alone,
the anger has left me. -
In solo flight, somewhat apart,
I know you gently hold my heart -
once my fingertips
could read your love -
Agony in secrecy and seclusion,
masked as love, -
Neither Einstein nor Kashlinksky
noted the dance of souls -
truths traced in action
deceitful in lust -
when did I start to forgive
liars? -
At sunset he sat petrified under the palm tree:
face in tight grimace and head in jolt, -
caught in her eyes sob scream and shout:
leave me alone ... no let me out! -
bird to sky seed to soil
rambling roses -
Grand long novels of science fiction
and fantasy, in a philosophic, -
journalist he was
inquisitive about life and love -
nie die drup van hartseer bloed
maar die omhelsing van soet -
Of all the things lost I remember the blue tea set clearly. It was special. Very fragile, very old. There were six cups, six saucers.The cu
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I opened my heart to you
after the severance of stab -
Ah. Small nuances of ancient angst:
be it concerto, rodeo, museum ... -
aloft in winter's bed of iron
swaying from detached -
sorrow becomes sacred
in its ritualistic -
the poison inside at last bleeds
itself in bruise -
That is strange. I once used the very same phrase in a poem:
"In the asylum of your eyes, iodine stained..." -
Once I wished to be happy eternally
and I offered stars to the sky -
sometimes
on cannot write about -
soft words on pages of this life
are lost within sahara sand -
We often use words like fly, glide and soar
not knowing what they truly mean. To lift -
motherhood for me is acutely personal
nothing metaphoric to be honest for I guess in good poetry -
25. Write anything about sleeping.
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Evensong, the compass card
to guide my soul on east-west bound16 lines, 5 comments, on Sep 8 6:49 AM. In Love -
All things primitive remain
silent, untainted and unchanged. -
the beats of life
-
Night's moment, fleeting velvet, short,
we touched in love, true life, abort -
Youth refuses to leave,
awaiting our spring. -
You are no Gibran, Diamond, or Neruda
You know how much I love those three. -
Married to a memory, the timber of the empty room of my soul holds your fleeting footfall, fading away from me. White chiffon and silk orga8 lines, 2 comments, on Oct 9 3:03 PM
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I love him
for he taught me -
I search you in the rooms you built
against cold desert wind; -
With all weaving done, I turn my eyes to fields
where dreams left chaff
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