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christopher-doyle-1
Can the Universe call out, entice Demand? Is there a feminine thread, of life Growing Do the sands of time park curbside Mounded into moments into road-side stalls Into Markets to haggle the existence Of love A sip, to taste, to close my eyes and replace The crashing global shore over the remnants Of culture and edifice Outside, in this open air cafe The caffeinated steam Presses up to anticipation A planet contemplates The Universe Still, at last, at longingly forever She waits, in the glowing sea A rising among the vast sheen
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Straining
Which of us will be the last to recall The cold colors of ***** splashing Through the dunes on breezes Lit by twilight ends of summer hours Burning still the sands The rasping grass chorus Laid silent, together, under the skies of our youth Which of us will call out the scream of That screen door, banging More frequently than the distant crashes of surf Nerves tensed as dry and brittle As those great grasses, ceaseless through day and through night We never thought about such things Before the years called back to us As mocking as the gulls' Insistent bravado Laughter turned to tears To swoop away Empty
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
Beachcomber
The words left altogether. 
Thoughts and feelings, memories divided. 
Discrepancies voluntary. Deceit the ring 
Around the foundling’s mare, to ride the darkness 
 Of the approaching storm. Thunder heads rolling 
 Behind angry cloud banks. Spitting sparks. 
 Angry, 
 Divisive showers. The universe showed me once how to smile despite myself. 
 A garden amongst stone. An illumination in the downpour. 
 I looked again today and history became the mirror. 
 The reflection of a purpose restrained. Less crafted 
 Than yielded, of the moment, in relativity. 

 I feel the blankness of shock. I feel the depth of the night 
 Spent away from the one I love. 
 And yet I crackle with life. 

 Reset
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Crazy