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SiouxF Dec 15
Poetry has a way of hiding
Itself in a dried up riverbed.
Inspiration of nothingness.
Words at tongue’s tip,
Can’t quite grasp…
And then all of a sudden,
Words flow like the mighty Amazon
During the wettest season,
Tumbling over each other
In their rush to be writ upon the page.
Feast or famine,
All or nothing.
SiouxF Dec 15
Under the velveteen red moon
I shall come a knocking,
Raising you from your slumber
Of dreamless sleep,
To cast your eye over your earthly deeds.
Will there be moments of wonder and awe?
Love, comfort and joy?
Or regrets and self-loathing?

You only have one chance at this game called life,
So throw the dice,
And make of it what you will,
No matter what life throws you.

But I beseech you to play the winner,
Not the victim,
Be your own warrior to the end,
Courage and compassion
Your soulmates,
And love, your sword.
SiouxF Dec 15
The silver sea shimmers and sparkles
Under the weight of the silvery moon
SiouxF Dec 15
Shimmering moonbeams envelope the earth,
Casting a ghostly presence
Over hill and vale,
Land and sea;
Til morning comes,
And life anew.
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