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Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
angled paintings hang
cocked crooked; sheepish designs—
off set; unaligned
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
the comfort of bed
calls weary minds into its stead—
folding in retreats
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
A young spry tree;
So quick to shed it’s false spring(time) leaves

Unlike the old spruce
That’s seen so many seasons
That it’s learned to hold out as to not get hurt

But gone is it’s excitement

Unlike that youthful sapling
Who at first light will bend to ignite
And just be happy to be free of the first winter's plight



To survive the thought of an endless freeze
And slowly become accustomed to the seasons(reasons)
That the old tree knew

And to too grow through

And wither away in slow
And bitter agony
As the sun that lifted up
Could no longer compete with
The mother that beseeches
It’s weathered worried trunks
That no longer bend to greet me
And say The warnings to a weary last seedling
As it travels
On it’s way

*“Spring is here
And only within can it stay”
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
Do you always wait until the divider divides
before you decide to say hi?

When I've already said my goodbyes
I meet one last lingering eye…

Until I find myself to face
and have to deal with the choice that breaks.

Although you knew that it takes two
and you probably shouldn’t try to lie…

A serious look from the subjectively shy.

I remember back to a meek voice
that would(n’t) fail to hide.

I find truth on whispers that
scratch the essence of my mind…

And I too push on by
a forever that reflects.

On paned surfaces
a smile turns and dies…

*There's no reason why.
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
The place you’ve arrived,
dived,
and returned to the surface;

gasping for air.

It was all around,
but nobody cared...

until it was no longer there.

What a sparse remark to make
around something that can’t be saved…

Suddenly I feel like
I’ve been here before.

I followed emotions that
bring me to the floor.

Plastic and currents,
breaks and neck aches...

They relate to a lake
where swimming once occurred.

Was I here?

Am I there?


It’s hard to concur
when you speak
such sleek
negative
things.

I forgot as you chimed in on me,
or about my personality.

I’ve had a fill beyond the rim.

I've spilled out
and everyone can observe my ****.

Closing time passed,
and here I stand with nothing left to grasp.

The promise land was not mine,
but another’s who I blindly followed...

How much longer can I endure?

...I have not the strangest of clues.
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
streets wind dotted lines. . .
routes driven alone in life—
lights shine paths ahead
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
I’ve got a confession
What’s my lesson?

Marlon brando flounders
off the coast.

Who can boast?
The host

Steal the roast
and walk away

without even
a ******* toast.
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