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 Mar 2018 Ponds
I'd like to be alone,
but I don't want to be lonely.

I'd like to be in hope,
but I don't want to be hopeless.

I'd like to be in love,
but I don't want to be broken.

I'd like to be sad,
but I don't want to be weak.
For when I'd like to be 'me', but I don't want to be 'her'.

 Mar 2018 Ponds
Thomas P Owens Sr
now comes a vision
I see clear
the love we long for
has drawn near
the calling of our hearts we hear
it is our time

the darkness parts
so we may pass
the light we share
burns bright at last
the future now forgives the past
it is our time

and so our dream
now greets the Sun
the light that burned
in dreams is done
we walk in love
we walk as one
it is our time
 Mar 2018 Ponds
 Mar 2018 Ponds
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
 Jan 2018 Ponds
I Try
 Jan 2018 Ponds
Im a traveller,
In search of a light,
It seems like ages but I couldn't catch a sight.

I've been covered with the mud of  fear,
My legs have been sore of the sadness I wear.

Yet I'll walk,
until I uncover the light that I yearn,
until this life ceases to exist,
until this heart arise from the dead,
until the soul cleanses the dread.
 Dec 2017 Ponds
 Dec 2017 Ponds
I wrote something once.
I don't know where it came from,
or when it will come again.
I try so hard to put words on a page
so I can feel like myself,
but still they don't sound like me.

Words burn in my chest and
I can't spit them out.
Beer cools them, and so I drink it.
But the words go to my heart
and they squeeze and squeeze
and then I lose them.

They mean much to no one,
and not to me.
But left alone they squirm
and squeeze and shout
so I can't hear what they mean
or what I'm trying to think.

I can't get rid of them.

When I listen, they help.
When I don't, they burn.
I want to spit them all over,
so you can feel what they do to me.
But only if you're ready.

They're like worms, the words.
They eat, and sleep and breed,
and there's more of them.
And there'll be more tomorrow,
and if I can't get rid of them
they'll eat me alive.

When I put them on a page,
they stay still.
And then more come,
and I'll catch them too, hopefully.
Then they'll stay still
so you can see them.

The words.
 Dec 2017 Ponds
Wellington Thomas
Then comes the day...
cracks thrown across,  my gaunt old face;
and strength gives way...
these bones are tired, cannot keep pace.

What's that you say?
"How much time here?" "How did you place?"
I couldn't say...
but won't be long, finished this race.

And chunked to clay...
marble stone laid, runes carved on base;
then all will say...
I was called home, by the Lord's grace.
Blessed are those who believe without seeing, I'm not a "doubting" Thomas. Don't be afraid brothers and sisters.
 Dec 2017 Ponds
Evi Dent Halo
Her King

Her father

He, a God in his own right.


An emissary for peace

He; loved by all, and had no counter-part

He was her father

And she his princess.


Long after still these memories stirred

She being carried on his shoulders

Shortly so, and rightly so

So was love, and love thereafter

She his princess and none thereafter.


This woman with no master

Had her father's will

She was bound by spirit strength

Bound by indomitable will.


And so the king lived,

Carried his princess upon his shoulders

And soon thereafter- her time to lead

Was still carried upon his shoulders.


And she thereafter had sons, in this- this studious manner

And so there was peace in this land, and all they touched thereafter.
A daughters love for father

FINV "Her King." v3 (11/13/17-11/21/17) - by Evi D. Halo
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