Poetry

benign here

does there have to be a reason
sitting alongside to next across the street

whenever the sun smiles watching the light lift
withered wings appear appeased

writing a word and then another
one sentence starts to sing

fairy forgiven hands slay dishonor
feet walking away from here

another approach turns three times
the newness smells so sweet
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my every day journal entry. page possibly 7. i’ve lost count. day 7.
weather outside is cold and wet with a chilling wind. just the way i like  it.

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Poetry

osi.phantom

one single impression no 177, phantom
photo: silverxraven, flickr

wave crash

disobedient
diary, writing want words
unravel the wrapped
hidden heart wet, dry pages
awash, one drowns in delight

expressing the unexpressable…tiny little thoughts uncurling… red ribbon riots.. each page echoes back… longings lounge limited by the space of one page… turning over till baked and ready… one’s phantom thoughts ripe for review…

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