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Impressionism
Etching patterns in the sky
A swath of starlings
 Nov 2015 Dreams of Sepia
Chris
~
It is pouring here, very hard,
the clouds are unloading
and the streets are flooding,

and I can tell,
by the constant rumble of thunder
that the rain is ******
because it knows it is no match
for these teardrops
falling from my eyes

What a strange feeling
to win and lose…
at the same time
 Nov 2015 Dreams of Sepia
Flo
Looking into the windows along the streets
Who am I?
Who is that person staring back?
Familiar looking but do I really know you?
What is really on your mind?

Tell me your deepest thoughts!
I wanna know everything about you.
What do you really care about?
What do you feel inside?

What is causing all your pain?
Who are you slowly falling in love with?
What are your greatest fears?
Will i ever get to know myself?!
This is s very odd poem. It is supposed to reflect the question of how good you know yourself. Take a moment and look inside yourself. Take the time to figure out what you feel and truly want.
 Nov 2015 Dreams of Sepia
Flo
Back in the days I saw the kids
Playing outside
Enjoying their every moment
underneath the sun

We used to play in the dirt
No one cared how we looked
We ripped our jeans
No boundaries between us

We did not know the definition
Of colour, religion, race
We did not care
We were innocent

How I wish those times were back
The childish ignorance
No hate, judgement, discrimination
Some of us should take that as an example
Just another poem on tolerance. Children don't care about skin colour or other apearances. Sometimes even the youngest can teach us a lesson.
There is
no such thing
as lost love.

Old loves
do not
simply vanish.

They always
reappear
in disguise
as new lovers.

  ~mce
The lone white rose lies on the cobbled road,
Tossed aside by unrequited love.
It once stood proud in the field basking in the sun,
Certain it was born to charm and dazzle.
You’re magnificent they said…
A special rose you are, crafted by divine hands.
Its enchanting beauty was a sight to behold,
Even kings waged wars to claim it.
Unbeknownst its grim destiny
To be trampled by its admirers
As they gather around to exalt the new vogue,
The red rose alive with passion
Breeding forbidden thoughts and fantasies.
You’re magnificent they said…
Now you’re forgotten.
Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I've built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and ***** its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I'm living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I'd rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who's responsible?
eh?
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