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 Feb 2019 Christian
Tanya


Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.



Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.
 Jan 2019 Christian
Peter Balkus
Love isn't blind,
blind are those,
who never loved.
 Jan 2019 Christian
Kale
Goodnight
 Jan 2019 Christian
Kale
Goodnight my love,
Even though the moon's
Greeting comes
to separate us,
I will always love you.
Our bond that was
Formed by Fate
Can never be broken
Because with each
Setting sun
You enter
My dawdling mind
And my heart begins
To sing songs
Like the birds of
early morn
 Jan 2019 Christian
TheIntruder
End
 Jan 2019 Christian
TheIntruder
End
So here it comes
The unseen end
The unwanted bend
And I think the dried roses
Was keeping us held
Together in love
Unseen but bold
But here it comes
The unseen end
The unwanted bend
No more roses to dry
No more tears to cry
A silent goodbye
The unseen end
The unwanted bend
 Jan 2019 Christian
Wanderer
Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art
 Jan 2019 Christian
Edward
Blossom
 Jan 2019 Christian
Edward
I must go.
As I turn, I see,
Hidden by my eye,
A blossom.
A beautiful, fragile blossom.
But the tree is dying.
I must go.
 Oct 2018 Christian
Cné
Poetry
 Oct 2018 Christian
Cné
My life is full of poetry
in lyrical design
Expressions in a rhythm
that ascend and then decline.

One moment I am full of joy,
then sorrow breaks my heart.
My soul is touched by music
and the thrill that it imparts.

I love the rain, embrace the sun
and smile at winter snow.
I crave the full moon's silver light
and dance beneath the glow.

I savor sweet aromas
taking pleasure in the breeze
And love the gentle rustle,
as it passes through the trees.

Yes, poetic is the gift of life,
inspiring me to rhyme.
I'd write a million odes to it,
but I just don't have the time!
Happy Saturday
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