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 Sep 2018 Sophia Dionies
Colm
Like a cool breeze which weaves itself through the willow oaks,
So does this subtle sound cut deep through me.

Wavering on a different kind of bow,
Reverberating the ink below into a different kind of note.

So much so that when I hear the sound of the rustling leaves,  
I dare not sleep, without a smile inquisitorial.

Not that sleep was an option amongst the trees,
But I digress
And with conclusions leave.

To forget the song of you for awhile, until you return once more,
Rustling as you please.
Really quick while I have a firm grasp on its tail. Poetry to me, is so very much about me, and yet nothing about myself at all. It's like a window I see that keeps opening and closing, entering and exiting the opportunity to speak, be it to noone at all (outside of yourself). And the sharing and collection of these reflection is the safest form of anonymity I've yet to find. Like a codex with only a key once defined, and named to the person or place that originally inspired. But most importantly, poetry is the option to slow down and smell the flowers. Only in my case, a flower is a memory, a possibility, or a hope that could not yet come to be. It's everything and nothing at all. A heavy substance without recognized weight until otherwise told. And the best thing is...if I don't want to. If I don't feel called or if I don't take the time. It won't, exist, at all. At least in the form which it would've found in that moment. That's what poetry is to me.

And this was about a certain Snicket song. Wordless it says, so much to me...or nothing at all. LOL LIFE.
~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!



SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015
~~♥~~
Love isn't blind,
blind are those,
who never loved.

— The End —