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He crafts the finest ever made

soft speakings of verse and prose

delicately hammered like finest gold

each fragile link formed and forged

by mind and heart with love and and woe

Words together in finest beauty

birth shimmering chains of golden thought

with pauses hung 'tween glimmering links

like iridescent shimmering pearls

Deep hued gems dripped from tongue

dance in jeweled and sparkling splendor

to decorate this work of art

hammered from the wordsmith's heart
Her soul bleeds love darkly
Red pools on the floor
She has been stabbed
Her soft heart pierced
By cruel knives
Sharpened with words of love
And water colors of rainy days
And small gentle hands
That won’t go away
Sharpened to cut deep
And she bleeds
And bleeds
As she is gashed
Over and over again
By the cold uncaring souls
That she once loved
I stand 'neath wintered sky

And mock by my life

Winged Goddesses.

Bolts from on high,

Blue crackling death,

Thrown with careless hand

Have not felled me.

Surrounded by their circling  fury

I smile

My body is battered

But my arrow is true.

Black  and fleet

Their wings churn the sky.

They point now  to one of their own

I have winged a Valkyrie
Sometimes, when you have cheated death as many times as I have, You feel a little cocky. This was one of those times.
The many
blows of time
fall savage
upon my soul
I would have been
A stalker
But she loved me
I wish for you

All that you gave to me

As I gave to you

All that I had

You thought that

I would love forever

Until I couldn't

Care for you

Until I wouldn't.

Give to you

As long  you could take

Until you took

My love

And made it hate

I hope someday

That someone

will give

To you

What you gave

To me

My love
Wonder if
I would hear
The hammer
Hit the primer
When I die
Do I find
All  my lost things?
You know; Socks, left gloves, 1/2" wrenches. All of the things that have disappeared into the netherworld without explanation.
I saw her again, there at the hospital
Her hair had begun to silver in early autumn
She was no longer the child
That I had tried to protect, but a grown woman
She was now a matriarch
And she had developed steel in her soul
The years of neglect had been a fire
That forged her an inner strength
Burned the Iron until it became hardened
Even better than it would have been
We talked in the hushed waiting room
All echoes of happiness muffled by the sadness
That clung to the walls like padding
We walked the sterile halls
Scrubbed clean of tears and smiled sad smiles at each other
It was her first death as the matriarch
And she was in charge of this thing, this dying
She was the one who had the strength
To keep everyone else together
Keep them functioning, even if robotic
They did whatever task she gave them
Feeling as if they had accomplished something
And forgetting for a moment
I was proud when I saw her, even through the sadness
Although it was no work of mine
I felt that I had let her down
As I couldn't protect her from the unspeakable things
That visited her daily and worse, nightly
She had been so young and vulnerable, but no more
She was strong and stable,
The rock that the rest of the family could anchor to
As they were buffeted in a hopeless ocean
Yes, she was now the matriarch and she was in charge of this thing,
This dying
To my most beloved niece, the new matriarch.
 Feb 2014 Fiona Crouch
Just GS
I'd like to see your poetry
I mean, truly see your work
The way you choose to dot your i's
Tells me what that dot is worth
Though, words still hold their meaning, I know that there is more -
Beyond our monotype - a sight to see, the truth adorn
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