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Sep 2016
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Like an answer it calls,
loud voices of the inspired,
sipping coffee cups
Picking moments like fresh corn,
hoping for the sweetest
Falling into space
in tiny squares of who we are
lost in words
Requested visits due in time
as the door opens,
the mat is clean…WELCOME

Breathing in search of dreams
Still dark outside as
bright light finds me
and I am here
Where I belong…mostly
Some love me, some don’t
some don’t care one way or the other,
but they are all poets,
sharing thoughts and ideas,
well wishes flourish
and sometimes anger, softly ranting

Adventures become lone wanderings,
lush floral habitats
with gardens of fragrant ideas
battling the weeds of yesterday,
still beautiful when woven
in the serendipity,
sown of long ago experiences
and tomorrow’s promises
for those eyes drifting
line to line from
time to time

Human beings, trapped in a world…
not trapped, (that was wrong) found living,
touching others and soothing hearts
Examining feelings with magnified senses
Skipping from here to there,
dressed up for an evening in
Finding direction and offering it
Poetry, it is our blood,
the rivers we float on hand in hand
till we reach the falls
and go headfirst into our own written paradise
Stephan
Written by
Stephan  Camp Johnson Crossing NW
(Camp Johnson Crossing NW)   
  1.1k
       L B, Lora Lee, ---, LeV3e, Sourodeep and 41 others
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