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He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
It was shallow water, rippling
a watery moon quivering
on the surface seen
It was night fire
burning water into steam
gray smoke screened
It was willful drowning
upon a lily bed of lies
parched a wilted garden
slowly withers, dies
To all who stop by here to read this poem and to those who have left comments, I thank you for your every kindness.
XO
 Apr 2015 CAROLYN BAYNE
Dawn King
it was on a hill of a clever neighborhood
the errant flow well guised beneath the clay
upon reach of the summit
she is all that can be held
her pull far too magnetic
her skin, akin to milk poured by Luna
her hair is the black of midnight
on the eve of the new moon
she sits facing inquiry with her injured one facing her
on a rounded copper colored chair
placed curbside
Sophia speaks then
a monotone misgiving
that pours out
as a sly pompous
indifference
Artistic                                   Amazing
Beautiful   Bright                Capable   Caring
  Desirable   Delightful     Easy-going   Enough
      Funny   Generous   Helpful   honest   Important  
  Justified      Kind   I AM   Loveable   Mature
Needed   Original   Poetic   Quick-witted
Reliable   ****   Skilled   Truthful
Unstoppable   Valiant   Wise
X-elent    Youthful
Zealous
Italic words are words I need more of a reminder on.
I encourage all of you to choose a positive word (or multiple) from each letter of the alphabet and write it down. Remind yourself every day what a remarkable person you are.
Love yourself. <3


*Agh, didn't get on all day today, but came home to find that this was selected as poem of the day and am so flattered and honored. Thank you so much to everyone for the kind comments. I'm so glad you all liked it. <3
I use my eyes to see
As anyone else would
I see the colors all around me and the faces of those I love
I love my eyes for they let me see things some can't
Like the expression on your face when you make a mistake
Or the rare smile that you hide
But now my eyes are tired
Dark circles surround them
And my vision is slowly getting duller
The world seems to be turning into a monochrome mess
I couldn't even tell when the red under your eyes
Had turned to the same black as mine
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