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Phoenix Sep 2023
The time of man
Chooses the future

Is it true
or only a violent episode?

The growth of the unique
Are revolutionizing our ideas

Stripping away the broken
In public by an audience of connoisseurs

The king is dead
What will the robin do then, poor thing?

Suds in your eye
Household words

Two thousand years of war
Enjoyed at home
In a city in love with
The critic's view
I took clips of words from magazines and made a poem from them in my journal. I thought y'all might like it too.
Star BG Apr 2019
In the scrapbook of a poets mind
there lies a photo.

A Landscape of words
that shines like sun
calling one to scribe.

Sometimes sunny scrapbook
burns
releasing painful memories
needing to be written
for peace.

Other times it’s
bright
beaming down a rainbow
of beauty.
flying like a butterfly
needing to be free.

Scrapbook contains
endless pages
to glance at
when posted or printed
in book form.

It's a gift
handed over by poet to reader.
Come gander at a poem.

For...A poem a day keeps the doctor away.
Inspired by Heinzlets statement "Every poem has a photo of its own."
Thank you
xoK Mar 2014
Inside my brain
There is a tornado
Spinning to infinity and beyond.
God only knows how fast.
My shoulders ache and my feet cramp.
My wrists click
And my eyes go damp.
Inside my brain instead is a monsoon:
A tumultuous storm that rages on.
Waves froth and smash,
Beating against the backs of my eyeballs.
Sometimes they find their way
Down my soft spotted cheeks.
My lashes float to the earth
One by one by one by one.
Would you collect them for me
Like discarded flower petals
Down the aisle of my soul's chapel
And press them into a scrapbook
Full of twisted memories?
Inside my brain is an H2O tornado
Like reckless rainstorm pirouettes.
My swirling view is blurred,
But every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of the glowing whites of your eyes
And I remember to fill my lungs,
Head above the water,
And breathe.
Twirl, twist.
Wind, mist.
But don't panic,
Because every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of you.
LDR life.

— The End —