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Shadows dance through mystic memories,
days gone by in yesterday,
I close my ears to see your face love,
as not to hear sad music play,

Every note a flashed reminder,
of nights I am,
without your kiss,
a melody in melancholy,
of nights we spent in purest bliss,

If only I could see you once more,
and run my fingers,
down your shape,
if only angels could love a human,
I know you'd come help me escape,

Your sweet shadow is so elusive,
I chase it round a foolish girl,
round and round in total darkness,
I think okay another whirl,

No more tears to bait the levee,
I'm holding back a deadly flood,
I punctuate another moment,
dipping in to sacred blood,

I ask above and still no answers,
for when I might just touch your soul,
I only wish I was an angel,
you see my beauty,
is my goal,

You showed me love,
but I can't touch you
cause angels they,
are so much more,
you found a body to inhabit,
and showed me love like none before,

My veins are crying with you gone love,
as it seeps onto a page,
when I look so uninspired,
I crumple up in endless rage,

No one can love,
as I can love you,
I can only crave,
to see your face,
though I can't stand this way I feel love,

my wallowing is such disgrace.

Ma Cherie © 2017
In a period of intense creativity, I think? Anyway this is not about actual death - more about an untouchable person I love - yes he loves me, teaches me, tho were apart now - complicated is what this poem reflects? We still talk, often and visit sometimes,strictly platonic as not to confuse me more? Maybe just a bad idea altogether but I feel this is our path to follow, any sound advice might help but this is one relationship that has a mind of its own!- confused about reality...love me hate me, keep me forever or PLEASE let me go....ugh...lots of metaphors
His love is apparently my drug ;/  
I think he is my muse...I'm certain of it...
the reason I continue to write, i am grateful for that - and do much more. I know muse is supposed to be female but someone who has such a beautiful mind as his understand and embodies the feminine I think? Lol idk what I'm talkin bout!
I'm trying to write out my confused mind. Love you poets ❤❤❤ been catching up!
I'll keep trying.... ; ) Endings are always full of intense, questions, memories, feelings so watch out poets LOL have a beautiful day! Please comment if you can,
my "unique voice" as he called it, idk if it sounds good?
It feels good tho! X's & O's - Ma Cherie
clouds of linen stretch her skies,
changing depths of blue,
lovely is this -
her Earthrise,
she's something,
from my view,

I look at her
my lovely Earth,
and I,
her soulmate - Moon,
if she shall perish,
so will I,
I hope tho not too soon,

I wonder what inhabits her,
of what's alive out there,
I wonder what she thinks of them,
or if no time to care,

she was designed just perfectly,
a gift in her to give,
sadly took for granted she,
in ignorance can't live,

I wonder if her people know,
the sacred of her planet,
or if destruction comes in flames,
to fight it or to fan it,

they must know
somewhere within,
she's beautiful but dying,
I hope this not the last Earthrise
I hear her gently sighing,
then a thunder roars within,
on knees -
alone,
she's crying,

Hear my voice my sacred people
I'm wounded, I cannot fight
will you hear my final call
before the last goodnight ?

Ma Cherie © 2017
Started writing this about the Earthrise photo and then just became that vantage point. It made me cry ;/ love you guys ❤
I knew a poet once.

He was the top of a tall mountain
of all the best words.

Fighting.

His words were a war
against social injustice
of all times.

His face was beautiful
with scars and lines
that remembered
every battle.

There was Issa, and a bowl of soup.
I remember the fly that buzzed
in the windshield
and tears behind sunglasses.

Why do poets set
like suns?
You may have a face full of freckles or you may have curly hair. You might talk with an accent or have a small but cute nose. You might have Brown eyes or perhaps they came out Green. You may be not so tall and kind of round, or have big feet and small hands. Despite what the world sees, there are amazing things that you keep inside. True majesty and grace abound in your soul. When you smile warmly and offer to be a friend. When you give of yourself and expect nothing in return. When you are accepting of others despite what they think of you. You show the world a rare and wonderful sight of the beauty that is in you.
In childhood delight we played in the dust and in old age our finality is to return to the dust in which we played. As the dust of our childhood slipped through our fingers, so the sands of time slips away and returns us to the dust of eternity.
Shattered pieces of ceramic falling off of a roof top, adorning the ground in a colored mosaic, they refract the light of the morning sun. Piece by piece I move them around and place them where they seem to fit. Bringing a tapestry into focus, they become part of the landscape and form an image of what they wanted to be. Tired of sitting on a hobble of a house, they broke away and found a new purpose sitting on the ground waiting to emerge as weather worn pieces of faded color in different shades waiting for someone to put them together into the image of beauty that was screaming to be seen.
A bee
Staggers out
Of the peony
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