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 Apr 2015 t watson
Traveler
INFINITE
 Apr 2015 t watson
Traveler
Passing through this illusion of reality
Far beyond the perception of logic and past
The barrier that limits knowing
I can see my quantum soul
Here the emptiness is no longer empty
The nothingness is actually something-ness
Here the building blocks of objectivity
Spring forth from subjectivity, holding no conclusion
Just endless whole parts expanding eternally!
God is a never-ending creation...
 Apr 2015 t watson
wordvango
the world does
into color, green
vegetables,
brown bark
golden fields,
red sunsets,
white snow,
black nights,
brown dirt covering
me.
There are,
through colors many
realities.
small birds,
fiercest Tigers,
is my mind a reflection?
 Apr 2015 t watson
Traveler
BREATHE
 Apr 2015 t watson
Traveler
And so here we are
Page after page
Hearts on fire
Exposing parts unseen
Beneath harden surfaces
Wounds unclean
Broken still we dream
On and on we pen
And so we breathe again
 Apr 2015 t watson
Traveler
Shamelessly ******
The judgmental eye stares
Still you stand there half naked
In those skimpy underwear

I never meant to know you
As well as all that
Stop swinging your **** hips
And get up off my lap

So heavy weighs these morals
Yet I can't pretend to subscribe
To a world full of righteousness
Where such lust one must deny...
Traveler Tim
Re to 01-17
She's like deliquescent caramel,

the cool side of a pillow

        to lay your weary head,

subtleties of springtime &

          warmth in wintertide,

whispering hope upon lush  

        Zephyrus pipe dreams,  

    mellifluous nymph with wings

                 of a butterfly warrior,

softly determined,

    unfailingly true-hearted,

       whilst relentlessly ferocious

  Wise, yet sometimes struts

        blindly in the light,

       as dulcet tones of a cello's

           melodious marmalade

            in sentiment's tender fancy,

she's beauty, charm,

         knowledge, poetry,

               utter strength,

               & humane weaknesses,

she's twisted and ethereal,

           her aura sublimely captivating

     you may covet her body,

            you'll never possess her soul
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
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