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mark john junor Oct 2021
It isn't the quality of the words that measure truth
it's the men we all see with such clear eyes
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
echoes of their roots displayed in a contest of wills
two brothers follow the same dream
two brothers dance the same songs
We can never stop being who we are
we can grow thriving under a perfect sun
but our roots forever spread from the single source
our birthplace and home
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
find peace at last in each others truth
we are the same inside the dream
we are fellow travelers
whose nature it is to find hope and love
in the cloudiest of days
mark john junor Aug 2021
That day
one I will never forget
my brother set me free
he let me fly like the wind

he removed the training wheels of my life
and set me in motion
that day I found the joy of
two wheels and the wind in my hair

now old age creeps up upon me
but I still have two wheels and the wind
I still fly
my brother set me free
let me fly like the wind

poetry ©2021 Mark Junor
mark john junor Mar 2021
the world is a changed place,
what we became familiar with is gone,
we must either change with the world
or be pushed aside by it...
I have chosen to embrace the coming world
and trying to learn the "new way"
mark john junor Mar 2021
every night we dance under
the silver moonlight
every night we spin the tale
of friends lovers and delight
every night we learn the smiles shared
our joys take flight
every morning comes
our dreams bourne of night
slipway into the torn stars as they fade
till night again
mark john junor Feb 2021
I love her,
iv not always known her,
but I do know that I have always loved her,
she was the dream I always had,
she is that golden moonlight that
reflected within joyous tears
mark john junor Jan 2021
The love lost will be forever enshrined
within the warmest places of my heart,
such sweet sorrow for...
wait, what's your name again???
mark john junor Jan 2021
to be so eloquent of mind
but the mouth is locked
what sweet river that flows in the heart
betrayed by the tongue
this maddening speech
a struggle to say
a struggle to be heard
the stammer does not define me
despite it tripping my boot at every turn
to be so eloquent of mind
with the tongue so twisted
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