Even as silver winds spin cold Adorning snowy mantle December's golden glory Rhapsodizes sky.... Hands cuddle dewed chimes Warmed by firelight's evanescence; Flames burned by time leap Into seasons' embrace Pensive days cascade Into destiny's eternity Twirling, endowing hope That January will bring Interludes of global peace... Only love endures-- Cries ache in terror's mayhem Raking in wartime woes... And now a questionku for you... December ignites Wait of optimism.... Does love and hate meet halfway?
Inside my dreams, I drift I paint myself a gift Letting my world come alive Palette of colors that thrive Spangling dreams with fairytales Bequeathing warmth to life's trails My dreams have no illusions Words fall without deception Stars tiptoe in with blues Tides bring in magnetic muse... I tuck dreams away for a rainy day My way of keeping sorrow at bay.
siren’s golden voice
once dropped confident syllables
as naturally as breathing
now stifled in constricted throat
that struggles to swallow
hot, sour bile
college ruled notebooks
of manic scribblings
compulsively captured in black ink
before inspiration could swirl down the floor drain
sigh from disuse
pen now held in death grip
fingers have lost their grace
fertile mind now an empty room
where silence rings
blindfolded by fear
weight pressing down on shoulders
by the weight of giant
unseen inquisitor’s voice barks
Have you reached the bottom of yourself
are you so shallow
Or is truth so deeply hidden
that you must dive inside
hand to elbow buried into slippery entails
to reach it?
surgical implements laid out
with precision on a stainless tray
slide into view
no hesitation picking up sharp scalpel
with shaking fingers
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Merigold sunshine cascades On meadows that flaunt their green Frail petals of blossoms trail Draping perfumed pace. Butterflies toss the ginger air Birds, bees sway in ballet hues Knolls frolic in emerald , olive As sun drips yellow Igniting chill Wind cruises pearly mist Chiming encores..
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Who are you? Who am I?
Your name was given to you by someone else. Your gender, your birthplace, and your race were all given to you. Your job is transient at best.
Inevitably, when anyone starts sitting in silence with their eyes closed in meditation, Who Am I? is a question that will arise. If I’m honest, though, it has always been a question for me. It’s one of the questions that made me wonder if I was crazy. Paradoxically, in philosophy and psychology, it’s the very question that keeps you sane.
I am a mother of 3 amazing and frustrating kids, I was working full time, I have a handful of friends, [insert standardized blurbs here]. To each category, I had a different set of filters and personality. People always tell me how much they love how real and genuine I am. At the same time, in the…
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I balance my tears on my fingertips feel the moistness of grief as my soul drips I feel the anguish of unspoken words as fingers touch we hold hands breathing love. #tetracyt
Ebon ink runs down my eyes Flowing into my lips, it dries. Lips find a voice in my quill Words flow off their own free will. Into a paper that holds Where my dream unfolds. Words hang on for dear life Letting go of all the strife. Hidden words come undone Into rhymes and verses spun. Words endear and endure That is poetry's allure. My library of thoughts bookmark Poesy page turner leaves a spark. My heart sings as I blow off steam Cap is off my pen, phrases gleam.