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 Oct 2019 Silverflame
Colm
Steady shadows wince
At the sunrise smiling wide
Seeing it's lover
Saying casual goodbyes
To it's famed fling named goodnight
Sunrise Fling Tanka
My doors open
To pain of evolution
In her sibylline chamber
The curves of heroine
Divine and devilish
Imprison my piety
In shadowy corral
Rendering my calculus steamless
Left untasked of masters
My thoughts waft like gossamer
Toward pointed hills parted
By aphrodisiac crevice
Her silent words caress my ear
Whispering ******* bliss
In grotto of mystery.
 Oct 2019 Silverflame
Nik Bland
I write about you as if doing so will make you real
Haven’t met you, yet I know how you make me feel
Or maybe the reality is I have and the want is from memory
Pen to paper should imitate passion inked on you by me

No doubt that I am foolish, time winds and leaves us scarred
As if contradicting doors with a dozen locks, yet still ajar
Reminiscent of bruised fruit, but the heart only feels hunger
With you satiating the wanting and the ever driving wonder

And the poetry has gone on so long I know not if your real
I have no regrets, as the pen bleeds only what I feel
My mind like a drunken witness with an unreliable memory
With that in mind, I paint dripping words with my visions of you and me

Whoever you may be
.

Some of them were strangers


Some of them were without any rule


None of them would see another tomorrow


And if the innocent are guilty


Of the crimes they are harboring within


Then what are the chances in the hands of the convicted


There in the tiredness of what resignation brings

In the rejection of your everything

When the dawn draws close with no exceptions

Some of them were crying

Some of them stood brave

In the end it just didn't matter . . .


All of their dreams came tumbling down

All of their love would soon expire

And the void in the midst of the distance left not a sound

As the earth swallowed all that mattered

It covered all of their future faults

Leaving the fresh dirt of new direction


Some of them were young

Some of them were old

Some of them were men and the others were women

Some of them were just in the wrong location

Maybe they had the wrong face of denial

Just maybe in memory they will not be forgotten

For being guilty of being innocent
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