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Is
poetry
simply
ink
splattered
fantasies
solely
of
our
imagination
and
dreams?
xoxo
 Jul 2017 Darrel Weeks
Melissa S
The light had gone from this woman
Her days now became lonely and dark
She would go to the shoreline
To repair what had been torn apart
She would shout out to the shoreline
O please bring me a new light, a new moon
I am tired of feeling lonely and dark
Will you please bring it to me soon
Just like that the gilded clouds did part
to reveal to her a new moon
Time for this woman to have light again
Time for her to be swooned
This new moon was most welcoming
with his arms open wide
Lit up this beautiful woman again
and brought out the pearl we knew was inside
/\    ○   °  ○
'
    ○°    ()   °○
()       °○
                 /\
     °○      
~~~~~~~~~~~

no fruit to bear
no seed to spring
no animal
no living thing
no blade of grass
no hand to toil
no rain can last

on barren soil


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/11/2017
Thanks to rivers for inspiration!
there's a poem I have written
that probably makes no sense
to anybody whom would read

it's simply the names of every
person who has made a change
of great influence in my lifetime

most people probably wouldn't
understand it at all, thinking that
it was just a list of random names

but it's the most precious poem I have
//On friends//
There's many people on here who are in this poem. I hope I have shown you that you mean so much to me, even if we haven't met.

I love you all. <3
Sure
It's easy to see broken clocks
aren't ticking
but I prefer broken people
Clocks get stuck
in their last instant
At least people keep on living
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