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 Mar 2021 Joe Quaale
grave
i can't write poetry
the words don't fit
i sit here worried, contemplating
over all the rules & ****.

others' voices can be really loud
& it's hard to hear myself over the crowd,
but in the end, i have to make this art
for me.
i don't know a lot about poetry but it feels like it could be a helpful form of expressing myself. i hope someone else can find this helpful too.
 Mar 2021 Joe Quaale
Gods1son
Grace
 Mar 2021 Joe Quaale
Gods1son
I've seen the known swiftest person lose in a race
The strongest fought in a battle and came out defeated
The unqualified applied and emerged the chosen one
Meeting/exceeding the requirements is NOT always what it takes to win
Sometimes, grace and favor make all the difference.
EVERY DAY WE TREAD TOWARD OUR MORTAL ENDING,
WILL WE SIMPLY BE GONE, OR STARTING OUR NEW BEGINNING.
IS THERE A CHEQUE TO BE DETERMINED SAINT OR SINNER,
OR THE NEXT COURSE, IN A LIFE EXTENDING DINNER.
WILL WE KNOW THE HEAT OF HELL, OR THAT GARDEN OF ADAM'S.
OR SIMPLY REJOIN THE UNIVERSE AS BILLIONS OF ATOMS.
see the trees on the hills
my friend?
they are the knowing eye

see all the starlings in flight
my dear?
they listen in the sky

see all the rivers and lakes
my love?
they know my soulful call

all of them know the thoughts
of my heart
they know that you are my all
We are all here
In our own isolated ways
Shouting our creativity
Into the void
Because we can't stand
Being unheard.
I'm glad you're here with me.
Touch the stars tarnished with ancient dust
Gaze at the moon, round with the suns love

Of reflections thousands of miles away
As the incandescent comets fly and sway

And the planets hovering still around
Towards the suns rays they chance a bow

In the frigid darkness, silent in space
The stillness frosts the air like the most delicate lace
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