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And when we kissed she stole everything that was good from me.  She stole it straight from my breath, straight from my blood, straight from my soul and I gave it up freely
age old wisdom
silently watches
patiently calling
waiting until
i am ready
to hear

©2016janetaylor
the sun is always shining
i create the rain
drowning in dark water
deluging thunderstorms

i obstruct the view
twisting tourniquet
shutting off the glow
fatality is sure

take flight in hurricanes
live in the twister’s path
cyclone is my choice
whirling to my death

the sun is always shining
afraid it’s far too bright
for me to grasp my power
and know that i am light


©2016janetaylor
What makes a poet ?
That was my thought
I mulled it over and
Came up with these oughts :

Late nights with
coffee , tea or beer
Perhaps harder stuff
Whiskey , smoke or gin clear

And the struggles and pain
as the birth is exclaimed
Blood , sweat and tears
Falling as hard as ice on rain

Confessionals made
As black on white page
Love , death , fears
Even extreme rage

One who struggles
with the a's and the's
Should one even use
The apostrophe

One who's words
Gel by the witching hour
Words full of promise  
Warnings so dour

But perhaps greatest of all
Before even the start
One must have
a true poet's heart
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