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Simon Soane Oct 4
When you sit & nonchalantly beam
it is such an enchanted scene;
oh you,
you'd turn a grey sky walk into a sunshine mile,
with your here,
with your smile.
Bhill Aug 11
As the sun rises over the tops of the trees
It appears to be yawning
Yawning and stretching out it's beaming arms
Stretching out to share the warmth and love
The warmth and love that is needed by everyone, every day
Everyone that is ready for what the new day will bring...
Do you feel it?

Brian Hill - 2019 # 202
Mornings can be the BEST time of the day.
Are you a morning person?
Anastasia Aug 7
I've been thinking
About the moon
Her sweet scent
Of jasmine and rose
She glances
Upon the night blossoms
And smiles
Her beaming light
It dances
Upon my skin
And her reflection
Is just as beautiful
As her star-children
Bhill Jul 28
Morning colors change
They change with the morning sun
The morning sun reigns

It's fiery beams
It's setting within the clouds
It's warmth coming through

Brian Hill - 2019 # 188
How was your morning?
Front and center of it all
I am a big burning,
bright gas ball.

Planets spin around my girth,
Like Saturn, Mars,
Venus and Earth.

I am the one that rises
you in the morning
and leaves you stunned
by my leave.
I am the one
who blazes and scorches
and at times
hides behind the clouds.

Even though
I am 149.6 million km away
I am still there to
light your world
and keep you warm.
Summer is coming,
the sun will glare,
heat will radiate,
flip flops will be out,
tans will be tattooed on bare skin,
sunglasses out to shade,
sp lotions to shield,
happiness beaming through the curved-wide smiles,
water will be splashed
and the sand will burn
like hot coals on the soles of the feet
for it will be  beach season once again.
pa3que May 15
on the edge of an apron,
border above,
hands bleed out the natron,
of thee, flies a dove.

a candlelight’s beam,
a trapdoor below,
the words to one seem,
for other to know.

soft natron in voice,
the labyrinth backstage,
out heart peaks a choice,
trapped in a black cage.

hearts bleed out to tears,
such glory they’ve seen,
eyes brighten of flares,
thee treasure, so keen.

a bow of the taking,
brown feathers as prop,
out wings lads were aiding,
necks tied with a strop.
A Simillacrum Apr 10
If I should end
well, I guess that's

Self preservation
makes enough sense,
until I rise
from ancient fears.

A smile
can't crack
on the

A smile
in heart,
spirit, soul,
the world.

The cruel will turn to worms.
I might scream, nail under nail,
but I'll not have failed myself.

The cruel will turn to worm
And they may get to you,
so what?

The cruel will turn to worm
And they may come for you,
so what?

My time is mine,
and I, don't have time
to fight systems
of imaginary lines.

(I paint them)

I'm surely turning, slowly,
into worm food, too.
I don't want to waste my time
with you, fighting.

If I should end
well, I guess that's
Thank you for reading, liking, hearting, commenting, supporting. Artists need artists, and I, would be but a pallid tone of gray without you.

Dip me into the flat line,
under the frame,
where the sun sinks,

The longest day of my life suddenly
ends with a twist, turns
out, your venom

burned negative space
in the lid and
let out the damage

you did.
Let me take your eyes, I'll
give you my teeth.
Who wants brown rot? You.
Wheat speckled emerald
rings encircle
obsidian space.
Just one of the things
                  I love about your face.

Out of the box, out of the realm,
she is heart to my sword and my helm.
Bowl of the bread, bowl on her head,
she permits me the grand privilege:

learning her will, learning her pain,
learning her joy and her disdain,
lines into dimples, lines into jowls,
lines of a smile and lines of a scowl.
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