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Poetry is homemade soup:
Cracked bone of the past
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you remind of me of the sun
because the moon must follow
when your on the run
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The author tries in vain for a rhythm,
anything to set these naked letters to;
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Yet it seems only others may cause my flames to grow
I am merely endowed with the power of smoke
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Flowing like butter on toast in the morning
Oil in an engine, or water downhill
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song-like and sweet as honey
not sugarcoated syrupy
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My mind is wide awake, my body tired.
So many thoughts and questions flood my mind;
by Frodofan
15 lines, 5 comments,
on Jul 17 3:55 PM. In sonnet, rhyme, death, poetry, writing, writer, life, heaven, thoughts, form
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When I was falling out i was reaching
for some help. but in this picture
by ThDrkjkrsvn
51 lines, 5 comments,
on Jul 16 8:20 PM. In Poetry, Thoughts, lyrics, society, nature, dark, angst, sad, thoughtfull
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I come to you in the evenings
of my heart and soul
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Ecstatic explosions of shimmering white
Descending and dashing in sounds out of Hell
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For my Role model, Pamela:
Circe sings,
foam-born force of mystery
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Within my head are many voices
So for muses I have choices
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The poet sat alone by night
And tried to ease his mind
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Feelings spreading throughout
Raising my spirits
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When it comes to you,
Take it in stride.
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I asked him where his new poem was
As if it was something that needed to be found,
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There are two kinds of vampire...
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he dreams in
multifaceted memories
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Poetry opens the doors to my soul
Spinning the magic that make me complete
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