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Yesterday* is gone
Tomorrow is never promised
So make full use of *Today
 Apr 2016 Damian Murphy
Timothy H
Sipping mixed vermouth
Light meditation
    on love and truth
Conjuring lines of ancestral breaths
Wondering which crossed similar tests
My grandfathers
    who labored the same
My brave grandmothers
    conquered no fame
Whisper now
    'cross space-time's gap
It's the one we share
    reach over, tap
You must live quiet, in my heart
If just a small bit, a tiny part
Your blood goes on, in my veins
Beats remain, while others refrain
You're a buried memory
    a forgotten voice
I'll listen to you now
    if I had the choice
There was a daisy on the bus
just by the drivers door,
just laying there quite prettily
on it's own, just on the floor.

I thought about the fragility
of life and of things that grow,
and then I got to thinking
were did the daisy want to go?

Was it riding into town?
was it going to see it's friends?
or to meet it's long lost cousin
in the hopes to make amends?

Where did it keep it's money?
with it's pockets oh so small,
and did it have a ticket?
or did it pay at all?

And just how would it know
which stop to get off at?
it couldn't see out the windows
just on the floor it sat.

But as the bus pulled over
to stop again once more,
a gust of wind just caught it
and blew it out the door.

But thankfully for me
this was just my stop,
so both me and the daisy
off the bus we hopped.

Now the place my bus pulls over
is right by a meadow green,
full of dandelions and blue bells
the best you've ever seen.

So I look down at the daisy
and go to pick it up,
but the wind takes it far away
into the field of buttercups.

And now I just can't see it
so this is where our journey ends,
good bye my little daisy
in your field of little friends.
True story :o)
You know you're a poet
When you have walked the tightropes
Of being placed into a confined label
And still look up to a brighter sky of hope.

You know you're a poet
When you hear echoes of voices
That resonate within your mind
From all the mistakes and bad choices.

You know you're a poet
When you can see shades of colour
Within a black and white film
And see value beyond the dollar.

You know you're a poet
When the winter comes you cheer
For all the new found imagery
Like the sight of snow that is white clear.

You know you're a poet
When spring has arrived
You think of a spring in a step
and how a pen-spring is alive.

You know you're a poet
When heartbreak is motivation
For a chance to write sullen words
And heart ache becomes a wonderful creation.
The promise
of tonight
stirs within

Let it
soon
begin
5pm, Saturday. #10w
Sometimes I have to remind myself
I'm not better than you.
I'm just better than who you say I am.
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