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Posts Tagged ‘Iphoneography’

Thoughts clear
As
Water
Flushes
The remains of the day
Down
Unseen pipes
To
A place
Far
From
The soapy bubbles
That
Caress fingers
While
Sliding
From
Scrubbing sponge
To
Stained porcelain


Then
Washing away attachment
To
The things
Clinging
To
Visible surfaces
And
Allowing
Release
From
What
Has
Become trapped
Within
The walls
Of
Cluttered minds

*

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Snowflakes
Falling
On a winter’s eve
Transported me
To memories
Of
The night
You whisked me away
From warmth

To walk with you
Under
A canopy of darkened branches
Freshly covered
By the whiteness
Of
The same snow
We crushed
Beneath our boots
As
You serenaded me
With deep laughter
In an attempt
To will my heart
To rise
With your emotions
To the stars

*

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Just a glance
Allows one to see
Through
To the depths
Of
His ancestral memories
Where
He holds
A slight recollection
Of
A time
When
Communities swam
To the floor of dark waters


Unaware
Of
The nets of captivity
That
Would be cast
To scoop
Separate
Then
Submerge
Unwitting generations
In to
Artificial bodies of water
Where
They are now
Condemned
To collide
With
The clear cramped walls
They circle
In crazed attempts
To return
To
Distant
Home
Seas

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Nature captures
All she needs
From
Falling sunlight
Which
Leaves
Her
To worry
About nothing
But
The business
Of
Creating beauty
That
Blooms
Before our eyes

Never
Revealing
To us
The rigor
Behind the planning
Nor
The specific details
In
Each moment
Of
Labour intensive work
Required
To
Simply
Tantalize
Human senses

♦ ♦ ♦

Inspired by Meanwhile, back at the ranch…’s post The business of blooming…

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I wish
I were a butterfly
Flying free up in the sky

With wings real light
And colours bright
My body
Sleek and slender

I wish
I were a butterfly
Floating in the autumn sky

I wish
I could take you with me
But then my wings would not be free

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The sweetness
Of
Wines
Can not
Wash
From
My memory
The tales
Of
A life
Promised to come
Because
Whispers linger
Long after
Bottles are corked

Stirring
Ancient feelings of desire
And
Building the pressure
To pour
My self
In to
Creating
My own
Intoxicating
Flavoured
Full
Bouquet

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If
The way
Looks
Shaky
Suspiciously sloped
And
Scarred
With
Rust
In places
Where
The elements
Have
Taken their toll


And
What
Feels
Like
The weight
Of
The world’s worries
Fall
Again and again
Upon you

Rest

Before
Moving forward
To take
The next step
Up

 

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