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The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.
Breath of life, it is a wild ocean
always a tide coming and going
in this place, it does not linger long
never holding on, only drifts quietly into night
into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies
or in the night waters, a ghostly glow
of phosphorescence, a transient trail
of luminescence that soon
fades and reappears to light
the deepest depths
of sea
to all who stop by here to read this poem, I thank you
to all poets, here and everywhere, I thank you
XO
Cyd
 Jun 2014 Andrew Durst
Grez
Happy, sad.

I love and loathe my brain for these.
Appreciate feedback
 Jun 2014 Andrew Durst
echo
teach me the art of listening
and i will paint your silence
on my heart
if
                                                 i
         we
                  re
                                    
                                          to
                        
                           f
                            a
                              l­
                                l

  
                         ­    a                          a
                                    ­                                                      t
         ­                           p                                     ­             
                                                   ­                      r

                                 you'd always be there to catch me.
                            a safe place to land, a safe home to haunt,
                                       your arms are my temple,
                                          your shoulders my fort,
                                               my steady pillars,
                                                     my whole
                                                         world
                                                           ­ in
                                                             y
                                                             o
                                                             u
                                                              r­
                                                             b
                                                             o
                                                             n
                                                             e
                                                             s
 Jun 2014 Andrew Durst
SG Holter
To be kind and patient.
To see the child within
The heart behind a thoughtless
Mouth, and count to ten.
Treat it as such.
Be biggest.
King.  

To let the lashes heal hidden
Under a heavy cape
And not mention your pain.
Judge only
Those in need of judgement;
Leave the rest
To play.
King.

To ride into battle first; sword
Raised to an enemy campaign
And hurt only foes
With steel as wide as
The history of your beloved
Land. Win.
King.

To only wear your crown
Ceremonially.
All other days a monk; humbly
Uncovered beneath
The eyes of God.
King.
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