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It cast a shadow
Long and short
Sometimes stout
No it didn’t fall prey to none
It was the sun
As it shone its rays
On the cup
That stayed too long
Soaking, drying
The paints and coats
Applied
Layers over layers
The colours
In the cup
Now green
The money plant
Sun and shade and the shadows
 Jul 2020 Donna
Unpolished Ink
River
 Jul 2020 Donna
Unpolished Ink
A wise old saying
Can't cross the same river twice
You still get wet shoes!
 Jul 2020 Donna
Hugo Pierce
Bite
 Jul 2020 Donna
Hugo Pierce
As I stroll through the summer fields
The insects enjoy their afternoon picnic
I am happy to provide.
I saw a lavender ladder
Parked against a freshly painted ivory-beige wall

Wonder how many men climbed
Up the lavender ladder
In blue overalls

Wonder what the lavender ladder saw
At the top
Was it witness to any falls
Sun over the mountains shines
The rose bush stands aplenty reds, since June

In July it rains, the season, like the year somewhat changed

Tea and coffee not the same
Nothing lasts forever, not even the change

August and September are soon to come
And they will bring rain

Will make a rainbow
That will shine out of the windowpane
I always choose people
over hurt
Knowing my own flaws
I reflect
A second chance
a mistake
Everyone deserves
and makes

In a loop
{Pain lessons understanding love}
Function repeat

People I meet
People I keep
I choose to delete
For upkeeps
However negative this sounds and reads, I have finally learned to let go off people who only bring hurt
Silence does the speaking
✨✨

I do see you in the
‘latest’
You never let me know
When you are
’home’
At least let me know,
when you make it to the
‘front’
I believe
I deserve as much
To know
The poem that trends


✨✨
 Jul 2020 Donna
Sanek
Writer's Block
 Jul 2020 Donna
Sanek
Sometimes I don’t know what to say
When I put my thoughts into writing
But what I do know here today
Is that I want to write down something

It’s time to let myself go
It is time for me to see
No matter going fast or slow
As long as thoughts roam free

Starting is always the hardest part
When it comes to writing poetry
But as long as it comes from the heart
Then that’s good enough for me

Bad and good, big and small
My poems come in many kinds
“Skill” doesn’t matter, if at all
What matters is that they’re mine
Sometimes I just need to remind myself that I write because I want to write
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