Kelly Seale

Rookie (12-17-1958 / Norfolk, Va. USA)

Kelly Seale Poems

81. 'Possession' 7/30/2012
82. 'Be Careful What You Wish For...' 6/3/2013
83. 'Silent Screams' 7/31/2012
84. 'A Rose By Anyother Name' 7/31/2012
85. 'Bouquet Of Flowers' 4/27/2013
86. 'Dark Eyes' 7/31/2012

Comments about Kelly Seale

  • Shahzia Batool Shahzia Batool (6/2/2013 9:23:00 PM)

    Kelly Seale is a sensitive artist. Two major features of his writing style are to be menntioned:
    1: the selection of titles
    2: the handling of metaphor is neat.
    A rose by anyother name is a beautiful poem on his credit.
    Good poetry! ! !

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  • Alla Simone (11/5/2012 9:38:00 AM)

    sparkle*...because deleting & reposting may result in multiple posts, lol

  • Alla Simone (11/5/2012 9:37:00 AM)

    Kellys poetry never fails to inspire awe. The reader can see the twinkle in his eye as his words sparke in their minds eye. He's also a bit of a wild card so you can't help gravitating toward the 'rush' of his words. Other times his words are so softly encouraging and tender, that you feel as if the writer were caressing your hand, or you become a child and experience him gently wiping away tears. Kelly bears the mark of a true poet.

  • Shelley Jones (7/31/2012 4:26:00 AM)

    Thank you Kelly, your poems embody the loving passionate touch of great intimacy between soul mates.

Best Poem of Kelly Seale

'Dark Eyes'

Beauty throughout, beauty within-
Your beauty is unique, and lies deeper than skin.
Physicaqlly, your beauty is stunning, and that's no surprise,
but your most beautiful feature... Are those big, deep, dark, brown eyes.

Captivating, mesmerizing,
penatrating, hypnotizing...
Dark, deep eyes...
Sparkling and winking, shining, and I'm sinking...

It's ok, I can admit it, your eyes are my obsession, my addiction,
and your gaze is my drug.
I can't get you out of my mind-
You're all I'm thinking of.

The shape of your lips,
the smell of your hair, ...

Read the full of 'Dark Eyes'

'Turquoise Tease'

The smells of the Rodeo is always what got to me.
Sawdust and hay, sweat soaked leather, natural animal smells.
Fear.

I walked between fences, there were fancied up cowboys, reciiting; no, chanting to themselves, gearing up for one last hoorah.
'Snap! ' My camera comfortable in my hands, ready for that Pulitzer Prize winning shot.

My eyes noticed an aged man, both physically and spiritually-
His arms adorned with faded tattoos, propped up on the bull's fence, thinking to himself-

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