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anyways, a craftsman never says, he
polishes out the rough spots and
burnishes the scars, like a man does.
Sharpening his knife on his
leg polishing until
his eyes burn
calming
his wife and offspring
stronger than hardened steel.
A man on a wire is
sturdy  
glowing like thunder
in any storm.
The force of man
creative is
even more
powerful
higher more
the peak of true
love, because
he is kind.
when I view the sky
a puffy cloud a blue
so nice I see
your smile

in the sun in the middle
of the day or the moon
at the middle of night
I notice your
silhouette

when I contemplate the heavens
peace I feel your arms around me
when I smile I feel your love
and holiness
I am all
I will ever be

because
of you.
I am not reading poetry.
I am cupping the words
in my hands, pouring them
over my head, rubbing them
through my skin, into my bones
breathing in
breathing out

becoming a poem
 Jun 2018 Anthony Mayfield
Bryce
Upon my steel face, will it rain
upon my gleaming eyes, it will be made
the envy of a soul,
trapped in perfect face
to no great final resting place

My legs, drilled into the ground
my eyes, upturned to sky unwound
released of tears and raining down
to broken glass
and grass
their souls unbound

To stare deep into a darkened me,
my admirers creep along my metal sheen
as my material decompose,
to save my thoughts from endless woe

"So long!", will I be endless seen
abrupt, *****, incongruously
commanding these vistal centuries
of concrete and perjury

poking up grey thumbs among the hills
while the putrid stench under burrows
My fingers, ever curled, do maestrate
The doleful victims of that loving fate

And when you walk upon my land,
and see my metal hanging hands
Know my voice, hear my dreams
to never make the enemy of me.
Rain drops on my windshields
Blurring my vision slowly.
Off they go as the wiper is On.
I can now once again see clearly.
We often experiance many poeple giving us advices and most of the times are of no use. These temporary blind us in our Journey.  
We need to switch on our Wipers ( Literally Wipe ) these and move on with our lives and acheive our Goals.
My life is like a dandelion
Spending my days under the sun
Then he came holding a little crayon
With his jet black sketches undone

My heart's been doomed since then
In moonlight, it hued to a dark silver-grey
He was the brightest among other men
"Please pick me." I repeatedly pray

He did and instantly, I was blissful as gold
Days are short but bursting into intense joy
But then his eyes turned blue; so dark, ice cold
Was he a trap or was he a perfect decoy?

My glows are gone but still, the stars shine
I lost my beams and my wandering mind
I will still grow and be completely fine
Believing that I was a rainbow, and he was color-blind
Because for once in our lives, we've been to a point where we couldn't see our worth. And when you start seeing your worth, you'll find it harder to stay around people who don't.
 Jun 2018 Anthony Mayfield
ali
my heart runs wild
while my fingers stutter,
my mind reaching with sticky fingers
to grasp the right words
and catch them like fireflies
where you can all admire them from afar.

but this,
this love,
this is not like those carefree summer nights,
no, this is the middle of winter-
the biting cold an ever-present guest
just as you happen to be in my mind.

funny how
just the thought of
the comfort of your hand in mine
and the warmth of your lips shielding my own
is enough to block the gusts of cold out.
 Jun 2018 Anthony Mayfield
ali
my mom turned out the light
and took away my book.
"no more stories, it's time to focus on your own,"
she scolded,
shaking her head with disappointment.
the door slammed shut quietly
as i sat trying to adjust to the suffocating darkness
when the window creaked open
and in you came with a candle of your own,
along with a blank book
with only one sentence-

"let's write our own- no limits."
 Jun 2018 Anthony Mayfield
ali
gray
 Jun 2018 Anthony Mayfield
ali
i've run out of poetry,
and now all i'm left with
is gray.

gray surroundings,
gray people.
i'm lost in a world
that's lost in itself.

i can't find the words
to even say what i'm feeling,
because all i see is confusion
staring right back at me.

i'm in a room full of mirrors,
my own reflection
not appearing
because i've lost myself
in the depths of my thoughts.

someone,
please find me,
someone, anyone,
i'm gasping for air
that's not even there.

no one understands,
yet you're all here to listen.

there's only one problem.

i can't find the words-
i've run out of poetry.
my solution to having writer's block but also desperately needing to write at the same time
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