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MickeyP Aug 2015
Anchored at the berth
For centuries
to gracefully
Slip the mooring
A distant yesterday's whisper
now steadfast
As if bewitched by the galaxy
Unaware of the
Land and liberation
Tauntingly so
Refusing to be liberated
Time and time
again it slips from moon to sun
And time has stood still for so long
It has become
mark john junor Oct 2014
she seems like a saint in my dark moments
as she graces me with her gentle smile
because her nomadic heart came to rest for
a butterfly's moment within my grasp
and with noble intent i heart and soul to her attentions
so she unsticks my head
with her own road of good intentions

she is tender in my wilderness
placing small acts of cataclysm in my path
to dislodge my mud filled head
and with her devices nailed to my mind
it is easier to think so i think

so with her delighted mind she tinkers
with my comfort zone
trying to find the greasy spoon
that i eat my metaphysical meals with
leaves me hungry for words
when it comes time to put pen to paper

my head full of mud
grapple with the notions of her divinity
but the weight of thinking too much
keeps me from doing freestyle take to wing
so it is me that must unstick
from her influences
and her rubber band heart
that keeps bouncing back

— The End —