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.....a day's, or a night's inspiration
just walks away
and escapes my mental grasp
an idea, pregnant with possibilities,
suddenly becomes infertile, like
a barren woman, or a wasteland
i try to get hold of it,
still...it glides away, falling along the
edges of my imagination.
i am bereft,
when my muse has left.
::::::::::::::

sometimes,
i eagerly dip, and wiggle my toes
on a sunny blue river that
manifests itself in my mind,
bursting with promises of new insights...
yet, a slightly curving path is hard to ignore
for, it easily presents itself......and
sometimes,
i give in to its swirls of unfulfilled
dreams, and....sublime moments,
hovering, like a hummingbird
quivering...in my own space,
there in neverlandia, where i'm left
pondering, about a life......unlived.
:::::::::::::::
my toe-dipping moments,
my rare moments of serenity,
are short-lived........ruffled,
besieged by old shadows,
because....phantoms of fear
refuse to die.
::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
when treading this curved path,
unwanted, unexpected
circumstances occur,
and, all of a sudden,
my muse emerges from hiding.
inspirations bloom,
like mushrooms,
bolder,
than those that elude(d) me.
:::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
it takes a while,
for love and life
to rhyme.
::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright February 10, 2018
rrab



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Wander often
through a memory lane,
To dwell not there
but recall the pain...

Now no expectation
no complaint,
Just to go through
the lesson again...


Remember.. revisit the past
But to revise the lesson
.
The ether shimmers.
Time slips.
Your words float,
and dance for my eyes.
But we belong apart,
destined never to meet.

Yet...

There is a connection
as images assault me,
directly from your pen,
wrenching my soul,
drawing the pain,
painting the pleasure.

And...

Your words found out
emotion is not dead,
its just a sleeping child,
waiting to be loved.
But we belong apart,
destined forever to be...

… perfect strangers.




© Pagan Paul (2017)
.
A good man is soon out of company.

The woman he lives with
believes he is a fool
and having seen no sign of his cure
she feels insecure.

He is weak and so acts good,
she rues in bitter mood.

Goodness buys him no good place anywhere.

People interpret his grace his kindness
as his meekness.

He leaves his seat for others
but is never offered a seat
with sellers he is nice
but parts paying the worst price
being never vocal with claim
favors seldom find his name.

Yet in goodness only
his heart loves to dwell
and on the humble bed
he sleeps well.
Today
I have everything
Tomorrow
Maybe
A little less

And
Then
Something

But
Always hope
To hold on to
One thing
Being
Content
Im begging you..
Reach out to me
isolation never helps
please dont take away
your life..
I dont know
how much longer
I can deal with
another person thinking
suicide..
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