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Some of my stuff =P - Poetry Group

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Personal Metaphor:
The fortunate creatures who walk a sunlit path,
They may kiss the fruit of their sleep.
A million threads join theirs to the Sun.

But I walk a moonlit path.
I who burn brightly on this path of maidens,
With silver hair and eyes of green.

Too dim to weave dreams to the Sun,
Too bright admist Moon's snowy light.
My thread reaches the shadow between two worlds.

It pierces the forest canopy of white and yellow.

Soft sand between her toes.

Comfortable in the ocean breeze.

Yet she cannot forget.

Sand mends the gaps between her toes.

Wind fills the spaces between her hair.

Seawater stings the wound in her chest.

Three Metaphors for a Memory:
Lonely wind, the damp leaves rustle,
Yet still no sign of a moonbeam.
I want to forget!

Tricking drops melt the silence,
But void is the center.
I want to forget!

How long has it stayed in the center,
Though the moon is never born?
I want to forget!

So the Earth sings to me,
And caresses my hair.
Have I forgotten or has it ended?


Hush the silence in a restless stream,
Piercing the longings of a hue.
Could he ever be forgotten?

Emptiness in the truth,
Yet drunk with invokings.
Could he have forgotten?

How so does the butterfly soar,
Strangely not performing a duet.
He must be forgotten.

Madness in evening aromas,
Will crush the petals that arrest time.
Still unforgotten…


Strike a voiceless bell,
In Avici all remains.
All forgotten.

Hear a resonant voice,
And all deaths alive.
All forgotten.

Pure or not?
Still restless, ever restless.
Has he forgotten?

En Blanc et Noir:
Light filtering through opaque hues,
I am comfortable here?

Unfathomable depths shade me,
Multiple overtones

And nuances so sensitive.
This is where I belong.

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