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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Days have turned to night,

And nights jerked to day;

Black has changed to white,

White to dismal gray.

 

Water stings like shot,

Paralyzing skin;

Vicious wind bites through,

Reaching bone within.

 

Senses dulled from hurt,

Far before the rain;

Welcome the relief,

Wash away the stain.

 

Standing tall and still,

Looking up; eyes closed;

Drown the haunting thoughts,

Fresh, and still exposed.

 

Arms outstretched defied,

Warning strengths abound;

Tears burn paths of warmth;

Hope has just been found.

 

Lightening strikes swift,

Daring faith to stand;

Laughter roars out strong,

Meaning has been fanned.

 

Clouds of doubt disband,

Rain gives way to sun;

Eyes look straight ahead,

Time to mourn is done.

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Your picture

The color has faded
The edges worn
But the memories remain
How many times
I’ve held this in my hand
The feel of the paper
Familiar to my fingertips
Drops of tears
Stain the surface
The image never changes
Only my heart wrenching emotions
As if an endless tornado
Refusing to release me
How profound was our love
Our dreams floating beyond the sun
I still feel your touch
See the warmth in your eyes
Hear the longing in your voice
As I gaze down
Yet another tear stain falls
My heart breaks yet again
I shall never stop longing
Never stop remembering
Never stop loving you
We shall be together again
Such a sweet embrace awaits us
I will never forget
As I whisper to you aloud,
“I love you darling”
With your picture pressed to my heart.

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The heavy weighted door swings
Singing from ages of exertion
Waning not from duty
As the passageway to fulfillment
Crossing through, sparks renewal
A myriad of alternatives lie beyond
Absconding from the daily ritual
Of life the driving force
Options come as flashes of color
Discrimination lends a touch
Spurring guidance down
The perfect corridor
Walls climb rich all around
Tragedy and drama teeter on the edge
Blurring the vision to choose
Pulse quickens with expectation
Overwhelmed by the abundance
Fingertips brush the hands of time
Holding back the urge
To seize the now and savor
The enormity of collective thoughts
Stabs the mind with incomprehension
Milling through the prevalent scads
Anticipation surges forward
Greeting the end of dilemma
The perfect book has been found.

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Was that a cat I heard
It could be coming from the alley way
Almost sounds like a woman screaming
Must be a cat

Such a sweet little girl
Her blonde ringlets bouncing so
Are those bruises on her arm just there
No, must be mud

So much black that boy wears
Those things in his face must be painful
Eyes black as night shine red like fire
Must be the pollen

That man is so dirty
Those clothes surely need a good washing
Why is he holding that cup towards me
He must be mistaken

How can a car be so stuffed
That family must be moving to a new place
There are only two tires on that car
They must be moving

Gracious, that lady is so thin
I wish I could be that same size
There sure is a lot of food on her plate
Must be a model

Those children are sleeping
What a cute teddy bear she is holding
It must be cooler in the backseat of that car
It must be cooler

The storm is really blowing now
He’ll be home in time for dessert, I’m sure
I can’t hear my show for that noisy fire whistle
They must be joking

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My guiding light

I saw a light shining
A pinpoint of gold
A mere speck of brilliance
Floating within my mind’s eye
Was it a thought about to come to me
Maybe an idea of grandeur
I think perhaps I shall follow
Skip along to see where it leads
It makes me happy
I feel all glad inside because of it
Is it here for a purpose
To lead me in the right direction
Doubt unfolds into purpose
Negativity fades away
I am fulfilled
My aura shines bright blue
Warmth radiates out from every pore
Reaching beyond the cold darkness
The tempest within has been subdued
My mind raging no longer
I see the first stepping stone before me
Illuminated by my guiding light of hope.

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I have walked this road many times,
Pebbles grinding under my feet;
Looking down I keep wondering on,
My gaze never leaving the street.

A flicker of white catches my eye,
Set square in the middle of stone;
A small inviting wooden gate,
Seeming but lost and all alone.

I cannot see my vision is blocked,
By an abundance of blooming roses;
The air is filled with their sweet perfume,
As behind me the little gate closes.

My eyes are ablaze with brilliant color,
Springing up from the ground below;
Someone has taken great time and care,
For such beauty to be able to grow.

Before me stands a storybook cottage,
Made from stone and wood of green;
My heart skips a beat as I take a breath,
I have been here before in my dreams.

At path’s end sits a single chair,
A place set for thinking and solace;
I shall sit down here a short while,
And drink in all the sheer calmness.

Who dwells in this magnificent place?
An answer I will certainly inquire;
For I have fallen earnestly in love,
With this little cottage in the shire.

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I am currently working on a collection of poetry to send in for publication. There is not a related theme, just various subjects. I was thinking of calling the collection either…I See in Rhyme or Rhyme Me a River. What do you think? Too corny?

Or, maybe it is just to early to start thinking about that. LOL!

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