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Isaace 2d
I have put the Emerald Green to one side.
Submerged— within the lapping tide!—
Look now! Steadfast!—
Stronger than the Ark's iron mast—
Three angels approach above the water!
Transfixed, I set my gaze beyond the Light.
Shall we reside beyond that hallowed glow?
Dylan 5d
I want to keep all of the words
that find me in wonder and fear.

Spectral fingers reach for mine
but slip through my hand into the dark.
I fascinate from afar
as night pulls away their billowing skin
and wipes away their misty faces.

Ghosts ahuddle on an ivied bridge
poised in pearl-white robes.
Empty eyes and trembling hands
brush through the stream invisibly;
nothing to touch, no one to see.

Pebbles stare back as ripples unfold
into reflections of the weak and cold.
. clean giddy winter day
  my five year old ;
“The moon’s following me !”
  ally with the world surround
  when did i unlearn this bond ?
tanka style version

notes :

'the moon's following me'
my five year olds delight
a clear winter day
an only child  stalked by the moon
the importance he feels
Dylan 6d
I've dreamt your hands painting the twilight
and folding my epistle into a rose.
So many pages stained with black coffee,
so many poems limned with doting prose.

I've dreamt the fragrance of warm linens,
your patterned quilt and sleepy eyes.
Ever so slowly, the pink-clad nimbus
wheels across lavender skies.

I've dreamt the embrace of limpid waves
breaking upon the charcoal shore
and as I'm wrapped within moonlit shallows
my gaze shall cascade into yours.
AE 7d
The presence of words spoken
weighs heavily on these trembling hands
I wish to take the clocks that overtook me
and inscribe in them all the lessons and stories
gifted to me by loved ones
back when I was too preoccupied with tomorrow
and everything I wanted to be
When this world was all, I thought about
and this life was all I could see
Occasionally, I find a hollow breath
and sometimes, it’s enough to fill these lungs
as I soak this anxiety in remembrance
Befriending grief and hiding from time
walking home in a new day’s cold
Shivers and chills, pulling apart my steps
With aching bones and a desire to rest
but forward and forward I go this time
knowing, wholeheartedly,
that seasons never last
Dylan 7d
Lazing in an unbroken innocence;
a whirled undersea, under me.
Blazing tides taking hold of ambivalence
a calm serenity sweeping through the boundless deep.

An oceanic labyrinth,
rolling in the shadows of the sea.

Gazing past an apparent diffidence;
a cold melody for remedy.
Minding these subterranean incidents,
my torn identity plunges in a swirling stream.

An oceanic labyrinth,
roaming in the dimness of the sea.
Caro 7d
How generous in winter
The trees show us their bones
Each birds nest high up exposed

They show us their ridges and edges
Now barren of leaves and hedges
Show us the bony way they trend upward
Some perfectly straight
Others leaning to one side
Others with curves and dips
Some heavy yet with thousands of whisper thin branches at their ends
Others evergreen
Others choking on ivy that has also shed its dressing
Some revealing their seeds
Usually cloistered in green
Now touched by the wind
By the birds that peck

For a third of the year trees are dormant
Reminding one of a cheesy horror film
Of Halloween
Some so hunched, gnarly and comedic
Really showing their personalities
All brown and grey
Or black against the sky of a new day
Fuzzy outlines looking soft from far away
Up close so harsh and jagged
Some holding onto their dead leaves well into the winter
Their lower branches sheltered from the winds power to lay them bare
Shorter naked trees their protectors
Wooden bone after wooden bone
So comes the promise of springs revival
From the dead of winter

These barren bones seem to whisper
In the crackling wind
See me, see who I am, see who I will be, for life is me and death is me
I am a tree
Man Feb 19
It's a good time
Hanging with animals,
Because there is no social pressure.
They merely love to live,
That is their pleasure.
There are no missed interpretations,
No alternate agendas;
Alive at nature's leisure
Dylan Feb 19
Pale gleams flutter
upon a lap of fluttering streams
and in a dream, the sun melts
as the moon sets at the end of my bed

Island marooned, the mana consumed,
and with ancient runes a song is stitched
as love is woven in the white of wool threads.
Dylan Feb 18
Splotches of sky,
daubs of fuschia and white idle above.
A cottage near the stream, our soft painted dream,
and ripples of blue.

Watercolors,
silver mist blurs the mountainside.
Rows of emerald pine, our hidden divine,
and beads of limpid dew.

Echoes of dawn,
a cool gale of the nearing spring.
Awash in teal blooms, our calm wooded womb,
and memories of you.
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