I send my words into the sky Watch them rhyme and then fly. I close my eyes and feel the air Forgotten words lost without care. I take the letters in my hand And put them on a poetic stand. I scribe the words on a starlit scroll Watch words take shape as night unfolds. My dreams drift from a soul that bleeds In the blue of ink, fractured lines freed. I run my hands over my words My fingers feel the emotions stirred. With tender ease, the poetry glides From my page to your eyes.
Reblogged this on Writers1zone.
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Thanks 🙏🏼
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Beautiful words, eloquently put together. Thank you for visiting my blog. Have a good day.
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Thank you 🙏🏼 you have a safe day too.
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Superb poem.
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Thank you 🙏🏼
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Aww, this piece is a beautiful tribute to writing.
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Thank you, Joyce.
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Of course!
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If anyone can find the rhyme, you can Yassy
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That’s kind of you , Joey.
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🙏
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Beautiful poem
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Thank you so much.
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Reblogged this on Commentary, Outrages, Prose and Poetry and commented:
From my pal Yasmin Khan – Lady Yassy” or Yaskhan found all over the place by many. Sharp, smart, sassy and soulful. Enjoy some Yassy, guys.
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Thanks so much . How have you been? Where did you disappear to? Missed you.
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Fighting rampant poverty at mirror’s edge; a touch of SE Asia maladies both botanical and actual. (Rocket Propelled Grenade some near-sixty years ago back to haunt my haunts; domestic turbulences – lost wholeness of roof and must rescue books, periodicals, papers and, sadly, some superb snacks under twin waterfalls from the very few days of rains this Winter; and general malaise which afflicts one occasionally when confronted with a lack of nearby doublebock beer to chase away the cravings for some 32-ear-old single malt Irish whisky. (That last only in small jest, Lady Yassy.
I am still deeply in arrears in my own postings and shudder to feel so remiss for being amiss on checking our doings.. As I just a few moments past stated to fellow Old Fool (and author) Mike Steeden whose tale of Miss April Fool appears delightfully sordid enough to tempt me to read even before “Smexy” star scribbler Shehanne Moore, both of whome inhavind WordPress and are highly recommended: though I’ve yet to yield to temptation and so read their now-reduced to phosphors instead of traditional formerly living trees treated wtih rag-cotton and suchlike.
I must flee to find out my weather for thenext 20 days and then try to fling forth a few as-et unslung arrows.
Do the boon of forgiveness, I pray you, Good Lady, for not being as attentive as your worth required. Besides, I have not even gotten ’round to John Coyote Castellenas and his stunning good words. I may have misspelled Castellenas, but while t he rest of me seems tottering my memory insists it is intact. Liar! Not ye! Me!
I tell beautiful women I encounter – and why wait so long to tell you? – I have an unroyal commission which allows me to tell three lies to any beautiful woman each day so long as I tell t hem first I am going to lie now: and by most unscientific means digital, I’ve yet to have fore than three reply to me query: would you rather I live TO you or lie ABOUT you. So far only one respondent hath said: NEITHER!. Most, so far, have said Lie To Me – rather than About Me. Which I suppose goes along with the current cant.
But now I must beg off – Steeden, the not-snob, would perhaps suggest I add another “e” and emplace an “r” in “beg.” Oh, yes, Add a “u” too.
I flee now. Love and best wishes. J
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No one rhymes poetry anymore – this is refreshing!
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Thank you.
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Beautiful!
You put this poem onto paper –
I get to see it, 3 years later.
I’m so happy you found the rhyme –
I love rhyming all the time.
Two stranger here, yet within a moment
we found a connection here through your poem.
Thank you for sharing your gift –
We are all here to be inspired, here to uplift.
Helen Davies – LaAraBlog
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What a delight this is!
🙂
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Thanks so much !!!
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Oh, this is lovely!
“In the blue of ink, fractured lines freed.”
I feel that to my core.
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Thank you dear one 🤗
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