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Are such narratives abrasive
Such as the condition of our racists
Like our cops who fear black faces
Perhaps you find such dialog tasteless

Would you rather read of love
Higher powers from above
Blinded souls that now can see
Angelic intervention when we bleed

Are you afraid to know
Or uncomfortable
Surely you must have a care
The establishment
Has taken the power
While we were unaware...
Traveler Tim
HP  Jul 2016
I saw the world as it is,
cried my soul away
Wrapped my skin in shadows
a gift, unto the night
Sunset is my dress
The moon holds what remains of my
soul
Falling stars and dew drops
few shimmers gone
unseen
The only silence found,
in the song of falling rain
Sunset colours caress me,
night, my stage
Whispers in the gloaming
from sweet cicadas
And still, I see the world
cry my soul to the moon
This is the first poem I've been able to post on days due to a technical glitch.
Thank you for fixing it Eliot!
I was in the cemetery again, this noon
Dandelion graves and lost stones
Dwelling atop a hidden hill
Deep within the pines
Not my cemetery
Not ancient
I laid
Upon a certain grave
It had my name
Amanda
One of only two stones with
Still visible words
Unwashed by
Time
She was only 17, passing
Married, buried
With child
Baby
A long lost to time
Child bride
Of the
1800's
For her to be in that particular cemetery
She had to be a soldiers wife
Confederate, rebel
I mourned her
The stone residing next to hers
was worn by wind and time
A dandelion grave
~A
Cemeteries are a morbid habit of mine. The particular cemetary I speak of here, is called Boot Hill. A civil war cemetery. Amanda's grave was one of very few female graves I've found in war graveyards. Her stone said,"With her child." And indeed, as early as it is in this season, that cemetery was covered with dandelions.
'where night is....
closer than a distant star'

windows of the mind
doors and creatures
gleaming like
starlight

in your kiss
all the emotion
i need,

like the newest leaf
the soft green
of delight,

the summer
sun stolen
from our eyes,

forests of shadow
and sunlight
time unbroken

still forest
where no twig
breaks and i
hear only the
sound of laughter

path to my love
following the path
unburdoned from
chains

where love aches
to be feee

and a bird sweeps
to the skies of the night.
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