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1113

There is strength in proving that it can be borne
Although it tear—
What are the sinews of such cordage for
Except to bear
The ship might be of satin had it not to fight—
To walk on seas requires cedar Feet
I'm thinking of you
in warmer weather
I still like your thinness
somehow lack of substance
never compared
to your company
I remember a night we fell asleep
looking at each other
and you were just so tired
I tie my hands in knots
and throw fits
waiting for that to happen
once more
The rocky road is a diverging river
Splitting into T shaped tributaries
Feeding human fish into the highways
Silver schools of cars, trucks, and semis
Swimming dangerously through the streets
The masses ebb and flow
While the smokestacks grow
Drivers do not really know
Why they go where they go
Drive fast to die slow
They drown on those roads
I've been sifting through
the scrawls and scribbles
written on some whim

passed by, not followed up
like lights that shine too dim

anyone can write a poem
it seems innate somehow
anyone can write a poem
except for me right now
you just did x
thank you Sonja, guess so :)
You see
the problem is
i'm drowning
in my
ideal of you.
today i made

a leaf

one that will not crumple
as she twist it about

it will will not stain or fade
upon this rainy day

it's made of metal
etched with lines
built to stand the the test
of time

with two sides
for all she loved

a blend so sweet
something she won't
drop at her gypsy
feet  

placed where she will surely find
and know it's the leaf of mine.
 Dec 2015 Jonathan Moskaluk
ryn
Sure the fatigue would come...
Infiltrating the sanctity of our skin,
gripping our muscles
and chafes us within.
Right down to the bone.

No doubt the fear of future days
would eat at us raw.
It would gnaw at our minds...
Debilitating thoughts that would *******
no one else but our own.

Of course the seeds we've planted,
mightn't see past the layer of soil
in which they're embedded.
Seeds hidden in the ground for future reaping...
They mightn't flourish to meet the harvest
and greet the hand which would
welcome them full grown.

Most likely the days before us
only show of dark clouds...
That constantly scare us.

But today...
Has time and space for us to exist.
Today has a crisp sweetness wafting through the air.
Firm, unwavering ground beneath our feet.
So let's claim today because today is ours to keep.

Today we share the returns...
Of the sweat and the tears that in the past
we've sown.
When we look at what is already spoken,
the words cannot live
if contained.
Hope becomes all we want
as our souls become awake
in air unstained.  

If we stop and count the words
they become elusive
and still hours later
we remain unconscious.  As if we are asleep
exhaling each fragment
unresponsive.

Can we wear our heart on the sleeve
of our emotions
to keep our body warm and moving?  
When do we realize
where the point of here
is beyond that which is soothing?

If we talk about that which we love
giving our full attention
to each dream as it exists.
Would our laughter
become a shade of secrets
or a storm of words wrapped as a gift?
Copyright @2015 - Neva Varga - Changefulstorm
I used to walk fast to reach the place...
I was not thinking of anything except the place...
I was not in love with Earth!
I was not in love with sky!
I was not in love with myself!
Yesterday, I've tried to walk slowly!
I failed to follow my Legs!
I realised I'm missing everything around me even my breath!
I've realised I've wasted every "Push" from God, from Nature even from my soul....
I've realised how many years of my life passed  not being noticed...
Years being slipped away without enjoying.....
                                            The Blesses...
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