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as i wish
upon a star
this lonely
new year's eve
i won't be
going anywhere
and yet i will
not grieve
i only hope
the gift i wish
will surely
be received

i ask
providence
in heaven
for the blessings
of your youth
that you'd dream
just as a child
and those
dreams will become
TRUTH

that ink would flow
from wells so deep
that starlight's
in the quill
that the parchment's
as endless
as the measure
of your
will

and then
i would that
galaxies
scintillating
there
where they shook
wherever you look
in the
fireworks
glare

that each star
that winks above
as far as
you can see
will be a blessing given
and you'll know
it's from

ME


HAPPY NEW YEAR!

your friend
Catherine


°°•☆°°''♡••°°☆
I can be wrong and still be right
                                  Is the real paradox to height
                                 A lonely pilgrim looses sight
                                 Of answers that could bring him might

                                 And yet to seed the answers call
                                 The stallion is in its stall
                                 He's not prepared to take the fall
                                 For what could be is clear to all

                                 The endless paradox in sight
                                 The truth of righteousness to knight
                                 I fear to seal must fly his kite
                                And pray surreal comes out tight

                                Across the ancient castle walls
                                The demure tainted shadows crawl
                                To form the morning's clearing call
                                Effusive allusions, irrelevance fall  

                               The echoes from the grotto swell
                               Like memories of ancient hells
                               That command the oceans to rescind
                               The lowly force with which they'd bend
elan vital's orthogenesis overtures
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Santa Craws' lament
the poet is a fragile me
that longs to gain eternity
by power of the word

the greatest fear is that
no poet but a nerd
    who cuddles into words
    and there gets lost
is what is heard
    outside this world of letters
and at the most
can claim illusions
    that may better
    the understanding of a verse
    of all the meaning it conveys
    the sorrow pain concern and love

and then again
    as said above
what reaches out beyond
     the mind that spins these notions
     of love and other great emotions
may just appear
as nothing but a comma
    in the ocean
    of words around the globe

that’s what we poets fear
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