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Every afternoon with an 8 year olds undying belief in miracles
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Somebody asked me, “What did you do this weekend?”
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The moon boasted itself
in a perfect sphere.
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Elements of lethargy merged with hypocrisy,
leak bitterly from minds poisoned by conformity.
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In reverence I kneel
before the alter
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Following the dramatic theme
of the acts of my life,
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Caught on the cusp of tomorrow and today.
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Day bids farewell
leaving its mark
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The well worn road that snakes behind me
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With hands buried
deep in his pockets,
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I’ve left my purple converses in the foyer,
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Moments pass, melting into hours.
Lion chilled air prickles her exposed flesh.
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Hypnotic waves lapped gently
barely kissing the heart pine
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As I sit here, separated from my legacy,
my tears become my ink.
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Under a thousand rose petals
scented with desire.
-
Sheathed
in shimmering emerald scales
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In glimpses of mosaics,
light dances hungrily,
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Tears of the world
drip in needles
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Drinking in winters muted hues,
embracing November’s icy breeze
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Lost amongst giants of steel
concrete and barely beating hearts.
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Raging behind smiling eyes,
cunningly hidden beyond
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Rescue Me...
Buried deep inside
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Pulled along helplessly,
caught in raging currents.
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A single drop / catches a reflection. / Rainbow colors / swirled throughout. / Slowly it falls, / stretching towards its end. / A wealth of promise / carried in its weight. / Its beauty tempting, / enticin
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Huddled on an iron bench, / Shivering under a pale moon, / She stared blindly / towards uncertainty. / Her washed out eyes / assaulted by /
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Walking softly / on scattered wares, / she inhales deeply. / The taste of stagnant air, / settles in her soul. / Her fingers reach / to car
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Resting comfortably / upon soft floating clouds. / Warmed gently / by golden sunbeams. / Content and at peace, / lie all our human / could of beens. / Mired to Earth, / Shivering / from frigid winds.
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Seeking refuge, I fled to my sactuary. / A blanket of fog snugly embraced / but I was not to be denied. / A gentle spray from sky and sea, / settled upon my curls. / / And I walked… / / The ocean sang to me
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Lost in Translation
April 21, 2007
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My wanting tongue, darts to moisten
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A sincere thanks to one and all for sharing pieces of their soul, as well as expanding my view of the world. In honor of National Poetry Mo
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Clutched tightly in anguished hands.
-
Under her garishly painted face, hid 20 years worth of disgrace.
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One penny, two penny, three penny, four To have myself a nickel, I only needed one more
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Tucked strategically amongst cement and steel,
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