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Clive Blake Aug 2017
There was an old wreck-marker from Fowey,
Who had been at sea since he was a buoy,
But when his mooring wore through,
He went where the wind blew,
Ending his days on the beach - as a toy.
Fowey is pronounced Foy; as in boy
Julia Aubrey Apr 2015
What if our eyes were like mood rings, and every feeling we ever had went straight to our iris.
It would be a lot easier for us to know when some one is lying,
when someone cries their self to sleep at night because they feel like dying, when some some sudden is annoyed or angry to cheer them up, and that exact moment where they fall in love.
Each color would lighten up their face, and every changing second would put honesty in its right place.
Eyes like a pale, silver oyster, show the sadness of a soul who's been on a terrible course.
Eyes like dirt will show how worried an anxious someone can be, so close to underground that they can barely breath.
Black like nerves in the veins, shaken in excitement, shaken in stress's sane.
Paranoia turns white and striking; seems to worry another with the urge to be fighting.
Purple, like a sweet plum on a hot evening, shows love beyond its spoken meaning.
Blue, showing contentment and happiness, makes the eyes speak with soft waves of cobalt and skies of bliss.
Deep green can make enemies understand, or rip apart another with a jealousy so rough it is hard to grasp in our hands.
Distractions can consume you eyes with a breathtaking yellow, like bee buzzing around your head annoyed though its mellow.
Eyes filled with orange show how impatient they are; if it's light like a clementine, it will soon fade away, but blazing like the bright sun, it only waits for those who are ready to watch with mind of curiosity.
Encouraged by pink, like the lips of another, ready to speak and cheer another on with a calm cover.
Red burns a passion like the man on the cross, shedding pure blood at all corners of the cost.
How much of an adventure we could have if our eyes fully showed how we felt, life would breeze by and confidence would be offered out in free samples, few worries dealt.

(j.a.r.)

— The End —