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paodje Jun 2012
it's cool and sunny,
cloudy and bright,
the breezy park is joy.

the sun goes in
the sun return,
return its glorious hold.

don't care what gone,
don't care to come,
my lungs are filled with green

my eyes is close
my face is warm.
this, oh this, is life.
paodje Mar 2012
speak to me now of your rapturous dreams
i shall write them in letters of gold

they resound in my soul, they make my heart sing
for i know, i too
can chase my own
paodje Mar 2012
i hold you in my arms
knowing it to be the last time
must this hug goodbye ever end
why do i feel this way for you
you who comfort me now as a friend

goodbye mixed messages
hello disconsolate heart
i would rather be here
in your unloving arms
in your unloving arms
than be home

this park i know well
its seasonal rise and fall
blows that warm december breeze
your mouth, your hair
my tears as you ride away
paodje Mar 2012
i often sleep at night.
in the morning, i often wake and
from good dreams, contentment-
from bad dreams, relievement

and of daydream?
the truth is i rarely daydream anymore
my reverie both thrills and scares me
for i recall anything is possible.

look out in no doubt
oh, beautiful life
it is never too late to be who you might have been.
thank you george eliot
paodje Mar 2012
hellopoetry.com is down

and i have so much to tell you
of love, of flight, of feeling sure
1984's so right
i thought, the certain age of five

we danced beneath the sprinklers
rotated likewise on the grass
my paper hat fell off
the fences of our old backyard far stronger
than any castle walls

dad at the brick barbecue he built
mum at the back door, smiling
cake and candles,
being lifted up,
a moat of inevitable sunshine.
paodje Mar 2012
regardless
i'll see you in my dreams
we will ride through the streets
on horses
we will eat in the dark at the movies
and be chased by an oversized edam cheese

we will walk through the gardens
and talk, no less, no more
of all we never said, in barcelona
and every other place we forgot to go

we will dance like demons 'til dawn
circle like warmth over embers
procrastinate at bus stops
until the morning breaks.
2007

— The End —