Blessed are the poets
who read more and write less!
burn up nights in passion's flame
...
for crafting in mastery a Sunday
that's a master at breaking promises,
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From the knoll rolled the meadow blue brown and green
The silence of the Spring sky shielded the distant din
Winds blew in a dusty peace bought mind a soft solace
First star on the meridian chimed in the evening’s grace.
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The ripples broke the moon into pieces
But her wishes elsewhere sniffed the air.
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There’s this girl who left a boy a scar
Times have flown years gone far
One small cut how it didn’t heal
In a corner of mind the story lives still.
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Nicely she said was spent her day
run in her own plan having her way
I traveled from the morn had a long day out
she wasn't with me was with me no doubt.
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If you have to make your way
make your way.
the lesson learned one summer noon
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I come out no stronger
when a poem is all over.
come down to earth on broken wing
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She leaves a scent for me when away.
On those lonely nights I take her to bed
Taste the nectars of her womanhood
...