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Rachelle Langley Poems
The Nature Of Things
Is there a part of me that always existed? Vivid color thoughts drift through my mind. I'm an instrument who nature uses as a paintbrush. Nature has not revealed their true identity.
I look at you from time to time. I wonder why you are so blind. 20/20 does hind sight seem. You are not on my team.
Inner Demons in a Fragmented Mind
Mine are pretty and kind, and kind of sly to the untrained eye. My only friends throughout the night of endless dreams. And yet, they are my only friends it seems. Distant people through a kolida scope colors of true distorted truths.
Numb to it all and happy inside. Don't mind the dishes or the bills are not done and unpaid. I can't deal with the emotional ride. Don't mind to see my apathy fade.
Global warming nightmares
I crawl through my mind at night. When the lights turn down, I might. Turn into a twilight state. And I find my rage and hate.
Not What You Think
I'll try to not think of you. But it's truly hard not to, To see all your disguises Your compromised prizes.
I hear him laugh again and again. It must be him, his cartoon friend. Not too soft, not too loud, Not too mean, not too proud.
I stepped outside into my noisy backyard. Beyond the fence, and the glasses shard. Beyond the stream, the leaves, and trees. Are all the noises that make me freeze.
Time To Let Go
I woke up today. I have been lost. Where am I? What happened?
Comments about Rachelle Langley
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Nature Of Things
Is there a part of me that always existed?
Vivid color thoughts drift through my mind.
I'm an instrument who nature uses as a paintbrush.
Nature has not revealed their true identity.
I could never truly understand myself, anyone, or anything.
The paved road to understand the smallest parts of nature,
Are rivers where there are no bridges to walk over.
I want to run my hands through the soft concrete.
I want to be a part of the stones future generations can roll their feet on.
Nature nurtured by the desire to fulfill dreams makes time stop.
Life goes by fast in ...