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beth stclair Sep 14
the sky rises up, gathers
her midnight greys, her
ghosts the whiteness
of the moon, her
silhouette the
night fragments
flowing with the tide.
we drift dream-like,
unwind like a blossoming
rose, the sea like a mooning
skull, haunted, silver-rimmed.
hi everyone, i will be taking a break from hello while i look at establishing myself on twitter. i am fed up with the 'view' system here which does not give genuine views of the poetry. most of my friends have now left this site and the truth is publishers want poetry that has not been published previously on line and i'm having to respect that fact. if you want to follow me on twitter please message me here and i will let you know my tag. take care now, beth.
  Sep 7 beth stclair
The lustless spectrum of colors only reflected love..
It was then I culled away all that was sad and unhappy..
This place is at the center of a star where my light was made so long ago.. Its where I got my color from.. The azure mixed in with storm on the horizon blues and bright lightning arcs... No shadows existed here.. No maleviolent darkness. Only the darkness from the true wilderness the stars rolled upon..  I saw that my light had reached the eyes of me from so long ago.  I gazed upon my star and always new it was special without the memory of it.  I believed..  And in the end I made it here because I believed in myself.................................
I knew it was true......
beth stclair Sep 7
built of tarmac road and
lizard king his song was
the end of summer,
the last summer where
the light had to leave but
somehow he left us fused to
it, intoxicated, blown
forever into our
subconscious minds
where it sunk like the
anchor of a ship.
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