O. C. Woods
Write to express the passion in heart or from Stars fallen I draw with words to be grateful to'em. more »
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O. C. Woods Poems
</>HE IS SITTING ON THE BIG RED COUCH GINGERBREAD CRUMS ON HIS CROUCH WONDERING MIND AND SWALLEN ANCKLE RED SHIRT ON and a need to tackle.
Read the night
</>STARS MY PUNCTUATION FOR THIS CHAOS INSPIRATION DARK SPELLS NEXT TO MOONLIGHT CANDELS THIS DAY I'VE READ THE NIGHT, SHE TOLD ME I WAS YOURS.
The muse of mornings and evenings is running from room to room, in small wooden steps procratination's fading away when she shines tears dried up under her purple spells
In orda to say farewell
Back from The Black Cloudy Weeks Tired but on my feet and ready to eat the tricks Days like raindrops I'll never wanted leading the end Getting ready for goodbyes, again friend
Build up things that will perish soon through easy wind broken kaleidoscope and road told awful but I'm not blind green gems on dark lively earth and her litle woodhouse shines many pictures of different posture sweet Love of ours
My favorite destination is your shore that bright golden clear sky you pour You walk I run to fill the gap of life being not what I've wanted
'Clear Eye Clouded Mind'
Dear old friends my soundtrack for a white night Snow or sleepless? both and killing thought write on this day that the poet is dead
'The ocean takes me into watch you shaking Watch you weigh your powers Tempt with hours of pleasure Take me one more time'
Morning fog seas
When mornings Winter wakes I'm lost, blind meadows to valleys blurred with seas the need to cross is no release betting on the continuation through time
The Only Star In Sky
With years spend loving the Star above my head I cherrish the presence, your precious scent the path we took is long but early to blend we found the way to reach the dream, perfect ascent.
THE WARMTH OF THE LAZY DAYS IS NOW SPRAIN ANKLE & GREAT SONGS, OUT OF SORROW. THE WORDS BRING US CLOSER,10 MINUTES FROM OVER & OUT ENDINGS THE FRENCH SUMMER IS FULL, TRACKS WHITER THAN PERFECT CLOUDS.
</>The has come friend To settle (or not) next to the forest to mend Nature is ours now, the red thin line I dreamt about Wood intertwine our house and a big green root...
Even if she falls
The song is new so are issues When closeness is erased by distance I feel sitting in one of these '80 windows' across the street Blaming panta rhei or the definition of a degree?
The Exploding Sun
TIDAL ARMS AND TWO PEOPLE TO CALL MINE PREVENTING ME TO DREAD THE EXPLODING SUN THE END IS NOT NEAR FOR US STARS
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
</>HE IS SITTING ON THE BIG RED COUCH
GINGERBREAD CRUMS ON HIS CROUCH
WONDERING MIND AND SWALLEN ANCKLE
RED SHIRT ON and a need to tackle.
NOWADAYS is OF SUN
SMILING HOURS AND THE NOTHING means 'LISTEN'
SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE ROXY?
AMAZING! REGARDS TO BIFFY! !
THIS TASTE IS HIS CHILDHOOD DAYS
BRINGING HIM MEMORIES OF THOSE magical MOMENTS
THE STAR IS SHINNING ON HIS SHOULDER
WITH A RED GLOW, star of BREAD that is GINGER.