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Monday, June 25, 2012

poetry practice

AUGUST
I adore the welcome morning,
and I wake to shameless dreams,
Where in green and purple gardens
all is scented like fresh, and rest.

I complete the endless wonder
when I sink to ocean's sky,
Where in the high top water,
all is light, and great and blue.


I endure the rising shoreline
and I run to higher hills
Where way up there the in the coldest air
all is clear, and mighty and true

I embrace the growing flowers
and I let their colors bleed
Where on the radio the music
can't be true.

JANUARY
And poverty's self
Oft endures the richest sadness
Where, with her lost and last hopes,
She sells her hands for heart,
and lets ease her need.

And passion's self
Oft sets sail too early
where with the morning storm, Tempest
Her impatience blows and sinks the ship.

And sorrow's self
Oft despairs too soon
Where, with her each new day,
she's blind to the new and clings to the old.







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