Category: poem


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Sitting in this

dying tree

wondering; should

I just let

you be, like she

has done with me?

When she said she

had to go

was that the last

that I should

know?  Then, I get

a shiver, when

wintry skies dim

with snowfall

winding it’s way

down the glen

I feel the fall

This tree; once, so tall

 

 

 

 

 

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Here am I; I have arrived

In this moment I am alive

There is no next, or one before

I am the open door

I watch, I hear the falling rain

There is no pain; no need for gain

Who am I; I take my bow

I am; my name is Now

 

Photo 106

Some mediums cannot be erased

Light tints don’t cover darker hues

So, I am only partly colored in

with most of it, a deep blue

Somehow along the gallery wall

time got lost in the paint-by-numberings

while unfinished in a corner, sat a portrait

pushed aside with day-to-day encumberings

 Dreamsight faded into monochrome

the past leaving a large lasting stain

if only all unwanted marks could be washed away

like  watercolors in the rain

 

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Love struggles for breath

when forced to look at herself

She lives purely so others

can smile in their mirrors

But, often, she is

confronted by apathy

upon reflection

 

 

 

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Love lingers on, even

 after much of hope has passed away

with time, and the earth seems

flat again; it’s sharp edges cutting deep

 Still, some continue to struggle

in contradiction of the calm

that peace desperately needs to breathe

Confrontation has no part in the nature

of love and peace, therefore

it is never true when one says

they are fighting a war for peace

Weathering The Whether

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After the rain, when

the greens became so green

the wind began to blow

with a bitter cold

reminding us to be

grateful for the warmth

of the golden sun

We had complained

just days ago of

the relentless heat

even dreading, what

lies ahead, as spring

turns to summer

I came to realize, then

 that we change

as much as the weather

only, it has no choice