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Tora Jun 24
The gleam in their eyes
-don’t miss it! It’s gone before you know it-
when they realize that the whole time
they were staring right at the solution
and the joy that comes
from knowing the answer
makes me want to refute them,
so I can amaze them again.
Bhill Jun 19
nonchalantly, and with a nimble stride, the lizard crossed my path
at great speed, it's tailless torso, made it to the cover of desert cactus
the momentum of this little creature was stunning
the desert floor is packed with amazement of all kinds

Brian Hill - 2020 # 167
Like dust,
You settled on me.
But I'm afraid the desires of
water will wash you away;
yet it amuses me how the thirst
of love leads me back to you again.
Gist of thoughts
Blind Eye Dec 2019
⠠⠕⠗⠁⠝⠛⠑⠀⠛⠗⠕⠧⠑⠎⠀
⠠⠞⠕⠗⠞⠥⠗⠳⠎⠀
⠠⠎⠺⠑⠑⠞⠀⠝⠕⠹⠬⠎⠀
⠠⠿⠞⠥⠝⠁⠞⠑⠀⠠⠊⠀⠉⠀⠎⠑⠑⠀⠐⠹⠀⠽⠀
­⠠⠊⠀⠌⠀⠃⠑⠇⠊⠑⠧⠑⠀
⠠⠃⠀⠇⠀⠁⠀⠏⠗⠊⠎⠕⠝⠀⠏⠗⠂⠡⠻⠀
⠠⠊⠀⠎⠑⠑⠀⠮⠀⠙⠑⠍⠕⠝⠎⠂⠀⠞⠀⠗⠑⠁⠎⠕⠝⠀⠾⠀⠽⠀­
https://www.branah.com/braille-translator
Michael A Duff Sep 2019
My mind can not express my amazement of your beauty, the way you break me down to my simplest parts and make me new with feelings of love. The small magical minutes in between memories I once only thought old books and dreams were made of
Finding thing that are shocking to an old mind, realizing my time is short but my love is deeply engaged, I owning only sadness will be made when I am not her to draw her near.
Bhill Jun 2019
Sitting here in total amazement
I am stunned by the beauty of her soul
What is it about her
How could she have stolen my heart

I’m lucky

Brian Hill - 2019#140
Are you lucky?
What happens when the weather around you doesn’t feel the same around the time it should
What happens when you don’t do things in the best times you thought you could
So much procrastination I could write a book about a book with out missing a single hook
What happens when the economy doesn’t fulfill how it should and they lied to us about everything we could
He won’t let that happen cause in my bible god is stronger than he should
God showers happiness in reciprocated perspective of person
Megan Edwards Feb 2019
The sparkles of life
Trickle with trepidation.
Ripples ricoshade from one to side to another;
As life seems to stop.

Smoothly dancing along the top,
Gliding like a kite across the surface.
Winding, wildly along the curves; taunting Zeus of his power.

The birds call out far and wide
They communicate with the sea.
They understand him
And they understand what he needs.
This one is written in more of a Ted Hughes style. This is my first time getting inspiration from  materialistic objects. Hope you enjoy **
Rain Jan 2019
"Do you ever wonder if a painter ever tires of his colors?"

Does a painter ever tire of his colors?

Well, here is what I consider;
Does a bird ever tire to sing?
Does an instrument ever tire of its tune?
Indeed, does a poet ever tire of his words?

I, though I am surely no expert, say that it is not so
For as a bird may sing a hundred songs yet speak no lyrics,
As the instrument may contain a thousand songs therein, whilst keeping its tunes the same,
As a poet may conceive of an abundance of lyrical wonders, poems so sad or sweet to make a grown man weep, but only the order of the words he uses may change

As all of this is so, I say this:
A painter may yet tire of his colors, but all artists are only given so much
So if a painter and a creator he truly is,
They shall surely find again a new way to use that which they were gifted
For colors, words, tunes- these are all limited, and infinity does not present itself in any
Yet that is the unique power granted to artists,
they create a multitude of works from the most limited material

And isn't that what sets us artists apart?
The ability to make something beautiful from but a few colors, from but a few words, from but a few tunes

Essentially,
To be able to carve infinity from something finite.

So again, I say it is not so - a painter should never tire of his colors, but only think longer on how he should next arrange them.
This was written in response to poet Eleanor Sinclair's work titled "Wonder", which asked the question of whether or not one thought a painter ever got tired of his colors. You guys should totally go check out her other poems - they're really good!!
Bardo Dec 2018
Maybe it was a dream, maybe not, I can't remember now
Walking homeward across town
Suddenly there came this fog in from the sea
It covered the harbour and the streets, enveloping everything
   so it seemed
A fog so thick...so dense, I'd never seen its like before
All you could see was the slow drip of car headlights
As they'd emerge from out of the street next to me
Eventually I had to stop, I couldn't go on, couldn't see anymore
It was like everything had just faded away until all that was left,
   all that was left there... was me
But then - suddenly! Looking up. There! Right above me
The huge spire of a Church, towering up,
Like it was coming out of the clouds
I was amazed... awestruck
"Surely this was it" I thought, "surely I'd found it
(That which had been lost... lost for so long)
The Church at the End of the World looking down on all
    Eternity",
Even now after all those years I still had a memory of you
You were there... right at the beginning, right at the start, you
   were there
Those nights when I slept as a little child
You used come to me, come to me in the quiet, in the still of
   the night
I used enter and roam your hallowed halls...look out on your
   golden city...with eyes wide with wonder
It all started to come back to me
I grew excited, so excited
Because I knew! I remembered! I recognised you still!
You were there, all there just like you had been all those years
   ago
And you were the same, the exact same, you hadn't changed in
   any way
I saw the old familiar road down to you open up before me
And then the Bridge across appear
And then entering through your Gates
My heart it leapt inside me and my eyes they were filled with
   tears
I'd found it...found you again
The Church at the End of the World.
Mystical poem. A bit like the Twilight Zone this.
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