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Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
In this world full of chaos
I try to find solace
I try to find peace

In a place
Where there are foxes everywhere but no sheeps
I try to find a soul who is same as me

In this world of  fake smiles and cunning minds
I try to find someone divine
Someone with a sacred soul and a beautiful mind
I had a stroke, you see
So now my son takes care of me
It breaks the heart in me
I want him to be free
He is the bright spot in my day
And says he wouldn't want it any other way
 Dec 2017 Richard Grahn
rose
gospel
 Dec 2017 Richard Grahn
rose
The way people perceive you isn't gospel
You're one of those flowers freckled alongside the highway
Always mistaken as a ****
 Dec 2017 Richard Grahn
Lizzie
Him
 Dec 2017 Richard Grahn
Lizzie
Him
His smile warms me, as I melt into his embrace...
Leaning into him, my head on his chest,
Drifting to the lull of his heartbeat as he caresses my hand...
His head on mine... Jumbling my thoughts...
He sings in choir, his voice lulling my mind into a peaceful sleep ...
Unfinished but here's what I got so far...
 Dec 2017 Richard Grahn
Lizzie
Him, he goes to my school...
Breathtaking is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of him,
Which ironically is often...
His short red hair soft as fur, skin warm and comforting...
He probably doesn't  like me in any way, and that's okay...
Gosh he's so talented, his voice is bliss...
He makes me nervous, when I'm around him my words get trapped... How wack is that?
I'm not one for showing emotions, but I'm trying...
He's a gorgeous person and, I really like him...
I wonder if likes me to....
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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