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Harly Rowe Feb 2012
The sunlight glitters overhead
casting a radiant halo
that nestles in flaxen hair
illuminating the perfection
of her soft porcelain skin

Such a beauty she is
untouched by hatred
glowing with purity
innocence and undiluted love

Her eyes dance
intense with wonder
wide eyed and hungry
precious and trusting


My spirit transcends
and her smile, oh my sweet love's smile!
it contains all that is grace
Hope muttered to a tossed coin

My continuation
my salvation
my daughter
Harly Rowe Feb 2012
A love poem
to shake the masses
awaken the soul

Dormant for many phases
of many moons
this feeling
of revival

Hope renewed
I can't say why
except

The laugh
the flip of the hand
that sparkle in the eye
root beer barrel
like tasting my childhood

The lift of the voice
the warmth of a word
the promise of a pure love
poem
Harly Rowe Feb 2012
I shattered this image I had
this dream of perfection
I replaced the picture
slowly
with tones of brown and green.

The dark was darker
the revelations more burdening
but the joy, oh the joy!
The light was brighter
Colors more vivid.

When I cast off the shackles of conception
and conception,
the wings with which I was blessed
burst forth!
In the dawn of a new light and
I, as I am, took flight.
Harly Rowe Feb 2012
In my darkest hour
you were my sliver of sun
the promise resting
on lips of the horizon

In my chaos
you were my peace
the cave to shelter me
from the storm

In my sorrow
you were the whisper of joy
floating the breeze
that is my life

In my uncertainty
you are my absolute truth
the foundation of
my reality
Harly Rowe Feb 2012
I had this thing, and I was wondering what to call it.
I pondered and pondered.
While I did this, the thing ran away.
Then I was left thinking of what to call a nothing.
I realized had I paid attention to the thing.
Nurtured it.
Let it grow naturally.
Come of it's own shape and size.
The name would have revealed itself effortlessly.
Perfectly in it's own time.
Instead the focus was on the name, on what it would be.
In trying to decide what it would be, and what I would make it, it was lost.

— The End —