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 Aug 2017 Paul Jones
Pagan Paul
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A grieving woman stands alone
by the grave of a friend departed.
In the relentless blistering cold
of a day that should never have started.

As tears roll down her ruddy cheeks
mourning the loss of a friend released,
the memories of her life are sad,
the pain has gone, the pain has ceased.

So all that's left for the grieving woman
are a grave and memories to recall.
As she turns to face the world once more
she sees a leaf from an Oak tree fall.


© Pagan Paul (2017)
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 Aug 2017 Paul Jones
Anderson M
In the space of a single day
It’s almost impossible to stay
Above the fray owing to the array
Of inconsistencies keen on inspiring dismay.

Sun shows up in the eastern horizon
And not everyone’s enthusiastic on
It’s cutting short blissful sleep, many a frown
Wrinkle up folks’ faces instead, an unpleasant situation.

Conversation’s a glass of lime juice served cold
Daring and unmitigated,brazen and bold.
One flies of the handle as one can’t hold
One’s horses any further, what follows is uncontrolled.

It’s a delicate dance, one where stepping on someones toes
Is a matter of certainty, notwithstanding the mores.
Only an experienced dancer,an old hand of sorts can leave a dance floor without having been stepped on,or stepping on someone else for that matter.
 Aug 2017 Paul Jones
Seema
An indigo child
Thickened hair
A sorceress kind
Beautiful and fair

Natural powers
She carries in her
Sits alone for hours
Looking out afar

Blue crystal eyes
Sheds a little tear
Blows out the lies
That her ears hear

The elements unite
Upon her meditate call
To fight the negatives
That cling the wall

A precious child
Blessed by the nature
Tamed yet wild
Ready for the future...


©sim
Inspired by an online article.
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