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I am drunk on desperation
upon the clifftops of despair
Will I take the leap of faith?
or continue to live in fear?

Ashamed for feeling broken
I am trapped within my past
I must unravel these emotions
to truly be free at last

I want to confront this darkness
Shed some light upon this pain
Reveal the creepy shadow monsters
before they seep into my brain

Made to believe I was not good enough
is what keeps me feeling weak
I learned so young not to love myself
from the Death Mother’s critique

There's this child in need of healing
who keeps tugging at my sleeve
as I kneel to finally greet her
she softly whispers, “It’s safe to grieve.”
1/8/17
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Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
.
When you pinned the daisy to my lapel
you said 'that is where the fairies dwell',
and this special gift from you to me
was because you loved me beautifully.



© Pagan Paul (03/01/18)
.
She  
Stands for me!

Dressed up
All Pink and white
Glowing from tip to
Outspread reach

Hummingbird
Wings
Decorated

Both in sun in
Moon
A buzz

The chorus of nature
Majestic ingeniously
Being the freshest
Breath of
Spring

Of hope and
Beauty
Fair
Again he came and froze the world
His eyes as white as snow
Stubbornly refusing to leave
His frost at zeros below

No wisdom does he offer
Under his frozen tundra Breath
Blowing and wailing  
'Til not a sign of life is left

Our muses all have gathered
On a tropic island beach
Even magic while he's here
Is simply out of reach

Thawing on my alter
A poem of warmer days
I shall keep a fire lit
'Til he is on his way
......
Traveler Tim
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