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Time when inspiration
Knocked at my door
Its visit always welcome
I would feed it well
All satiated, with a warm heart,
wishing me happiness,
it would gently depart

Now I tend to ignore
As I do the chores,  
Or simply while away
An umpteenth time
A sullen face and dewy eyed
Unrevoked
Inspiration gathers dust
At some wanting door
Ocean waves crashing in as
they hit the shore
Crisp, clear air
Bright blue sky
Sandy colored beaches decorated
with remnants of shells
Faint sounds of birds flying overhead
Calming feelings arrive to soothe
Stillness fills the moment
Peace arrives
The body relaxes
Mother Nature’s art
~
drawn to a twinkling
crown of muted lights

a moment in the waterfront
of your eyes

in between circadian rhythm
and a place called irresistible

there we listen to sun-filled hymns
and children's laughter

not caring what comes after...

~
It will never return
Every single day a wish sets sail
But nothing ever floats back
The constant churn of the tide
Is a clockwork peril
A nomadic timekeeper
Telling us over and over
And over again
The time has come
To look elsewhere
Inspired by Barbara R Maxwell's poem "The Ocean":
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5062223/the-ocean/
I'm almost positive I heard them talking

Talking in their protective, yet complaining manner

They say, they only get to interact with the weak

They say, they're all too often held responsible for the bond between others

What's the matter with them?

They're the ones full of chemistry

They're the ones who can escape scott free

While I have to stay inside and act positive about it

Just once I'd like to not be in the middle of everything
The lilt of your sea
Is a mystery to me,
The form of your lips
A vast calligraphy.

The shape and stem
Of your new world,
Impregnated with maudlin and marrow,
And how it curled, instead of set.

You are remarkably
Cloud-hidden,
Less an end to everything,
More a furtive wellspring.

O sweet custodian of paradise,
Please measure out your turn of phrase
In the language of light,
As we enter into the uncreated night.
~
man on the moon,
woman in orbit,
unrequited science.
nowhere to land,
nothing to feel,
it might as well be Siberia.
luminaries change,
control lingers in the framework.

the heavens revolve
—deasil and artificial.
she has revolutions of her own,
legs that once swam
everyday in his backyard pool,
(that once draped around his coil)
now openly kick free
from his lunar confines.

he starts the countdown
—one one thousand,
two one thousand,
but she's not coming for him.
she's chasing other transmissions,
the bones of what she believes,
hoping something out there
can activate her heart.

~
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