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#flecks
Goldenrods and oak Flecks of emerald and amber Awake! vivid spring
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Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 9:15 AM UTC
Spring
Oh how the sunset Meddles with me Golden flecks Searing the sky Split me open And pour my tears Like milk into a cats dish.
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Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
sun1
What is it that you see deep within me? What fluttering thoughts land with meeting eyes? What varies between what's been and could be? When we live so thinly on worldly ties As you gaze out your spirits window pane Intimacy takes place in history Do all these feelings know when to remain? What is left aft the death of mystery? A shadow cries beads of blackened lost flecks Translucent puddles form into nothing A storm looks within itself and reflects On how the sun rose it to its brewing And when I see you, you become my sight There's no il only courage, will, and might
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Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
Sonnet #7 What do you see?
She looked in the mirror And saw flecks of his broken soul inside herself
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
Contagious
What rarity can acclaim to this elusive title? Where surely claiming it itself is against its nature. It might be what our mothers told grubby faced, knee knocked flecks that dart from graffitied parks when light turns dark. Is it in the eye of the beholder, a stubborn piece of irritating dust? Perhaps those who search will never be rewarded with a glimpse as perfection becomes unfathomably further. Why does the haughty swan rise when the it squawks more than the pigeon? Beauty is boxed. It is wrapped in parcels and swaddled in ribbon until one forgets that it is in the child's face and not his hands. Unmeasurable pleasure shouldn't be contained, it roams and commands like a caged tiger. It controls the eye and navigates, onward soldier. So perhaps it is not rare at all but there for all customary enough to anticipate the undeniable.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
Beauty