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You know your life's
been in such a sad place
far too long
when your own smile
surprises even you
 Feb 2020 Little Bear
Destiny
My crooked teeth are imperfect.
My weight is imperfect.
My skin is imperfect.
My thought process is imperfect.
My actions can be imperfect.
I am imperfect.

My teeth help me smile, which people love!
My weight just means I'm better to hug and cuddle!
My skin makes me different, which is always okay!
My thought process is just more advanced and sincere!
My actions are a result of chemical imbalances!
I am okay with being imperfect because imperfections make me who I am!
Our family tree
Woah is me
Has termites

No pictures to prove
Who is who
Boo hoo hoo

Should it matter
Would it make us sadder
If we searched the history of us

Would we find
We are royalty
Or just of the toilet seat

We might find the dad
Who went away
Or was just led astray

Find the town
We are from
Exact locations say some

A can
Of worms
Or just deserts

Do we have to know
Will it make us
Grow

Maybe all we need
Is these little seeds
Of us now to plant

The small tree
Start fresh
Of just you and me
Searching your past can be an amazing adventure or a nightmare depending on the results. It’s a serious decision to make.
 Feb 2020 Little Bear
Mark kenny
Struggling with the reality that everything will fall in place
Struggling with peace that I created even though I wasn't in place.

Struggling with a new habit that kept me afloat but draining all of me now
Struggling with how sentiments can change how people question me now.

Struggling with the friend that calls my phone just to check on my progress
Struggling with the replies lined up on my phone I really need to check the progress.

Struggling with dropping the ideas I believe  can have an impact on the future
Still struggling with the questions hope it doesn't become an habit on my future.
The answer on my lips can't ask the questions coming from my mind
I am making my way

thru humanity for the last time

seeing shadow exists before me

knowing I hold the truth within

what they don't see is what they assume

all the petty small minds say

there is no heart of gold

to be found in black bodies

that we lynch and burn

out of Africa, they have claimed

our skin the radients of mocha

night screams sin

and they will continue to say,

we are better than them



I am better than no one but my self

to be sure this heart is genuine

coming from a long

line of fine peculiar folks

souls as vast as a mountain range

you could fall deep into the

crevice of their never

ending love for everything

who would even wounded

do anything opposed to oppression

untamed roaming wild and free
a moment passed.  an emotion felt.  photographs aren’t memories.  memories aren’t experiences.  angels aren’t humans.  and she is not an angel.

she is young.  but she has lived.  through more.  than me.

we are travelling.  up north.  in an old white van.  my eyes are closed.   her head is slanted.  resting on me.  she whispers.  she sings.  that song to me.  the old church song.  about salvation.  

she is thinking.  about something.  I am feeling.  her thoughts.  and maybe.  for a moment.  we are one.
Tumbled down rubble
pushed then mounted
into the truck's buckets,
driven through sodden mud
and away from centuries of familiar standing,
do memories join your journey,
shadows of past existence and echoes of sweat,
of worry?
The bones of a building
shell shallow and crusted
without soul.
Watched an old familiar building in its final stages of demolition. Been standing for 100+ years, but alas no more. Never been inside, never will know if the progress will be better than what was there except through my eyes' memory
To see you cast down those eyes

pennies sinking in a well

searching for hope's desired wish
or forlorn in regret

as they fell.
 Feb 2020 Little Bear
Pagan Paul
.
She appears in the dawn mists of Autumn,
in yellows and gold, in reds and in browns,
painting shades and hues, Nature's decorum,
blushing the trees in her fine harvest gowns.

Dispensing her bounty for all to reap,
walking so confident through woodland scenes,
she prepares the trees for their Winter sleep
with distant thought of leaves and shoots new green.

Come Spring she wears riotous colour dress
in purple and mauve, a spectrum of blues,
showing reds and yellows, pinks to impress,
attracting the eyes to see as they choose.

In summer she arrives in hazy days
basking in new warmth, eager to be shown,
naked to the Sun, exposed to its rays,
Nature's beautiful daughter now full grown.



© Pagan Paul (09/02/20)
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Lord of Green Series - Poem 17
Finally a new Lord of Green poem!
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