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 Mar 2021 Kim Essary
Traveler
I sought an audience of my dreams
Wordless questions in silent themes
Until the chilly days finally warmed
I shed my cocoon of intent
And my plasticity conformed

In the blossoming spring my heart sings
Snow melts away from under my feet
I catching the pace of the permanent waves
Beyond the boundaries of the "finite slaves"
(Those unfortunate's awating the grave)

We all feel the changes being formed
How many more times must we be born?
I'll be taking my stand in this life span
From here to evermore!
Traveler Tim
 Oct 2019 Kim Essary
Pagan Paul
.
When a Dryad cries …

… the bright red leaves
drip
and the tree stands
in a pool
of blood


… forest green leaves
drip
and the tree stands
in a pond
of heartbreak


… red and green leaves
drip
and the tree stands
in a lake
of sorrow


There is no sadder song
than when a tree dies,
there is no deeper grief
than when a Dryad cries.



© Pagan Paul (01/07/18)
.
Old poem re-written
Dryad - A Tree Nymph/Sprite
.
You are Awesome and very Gifted, wonderfully beautiful People.
Whom with all of your writings, and art, among your other gifts.
Has Blessed the People of this world, whom has touch our hearts.
I want you all to know, that you have helped many other people.
To be Blessed, and to become healed by your beautiful works.
God shall Bless you for allowing him to use you in this here way.
Sometimes the person that he is using has to make an sacrifice.
Losing something , so that the healing shall come out of their gift.
But I know that as Poet myself , that in the end it is worth it too.
 Feb 2019 Kim Essary
daúd
loving a woman is to love indeed the wind
The wind that dances on her own crystalline chord
The wind that takes your hand, that swiftly leaves a kiss
& with a killer scent repeats, “good-bye” “so long”

loving a woman is worshipping flame or fire
a flame that with her body cooks sweetly a bread of sadness
A merciless, deep light that burning you inspires
that touches your skin with poisoned lips & vastness

loving a woman is to embrace in vain the water
the fitful, sudden water of ardent, sudden showers
that give themselves away in a cold hug of madness
-to kiss the moon on rivers. to lie on dream & flower

loving a woman is a lonely quest for heaven:
blind faith in a “perhaps.” “always” pronounced as “never”
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