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Daydreaming
Head in the clouds
Rising with the sun
Sliding down a rainbow
After a sudden down pour of rain
Landing on the beach
Is my happy place
While I sit back and relax
Writing poems for days
My little friends will join me
Seashells, Palm trees and little lizards too
Warmth of the sun from high in the sky
I got my head in clouds
Daydreaming of a good time for once in my life...
She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze
Not sure. I've been editing it for awhile and I give up.
Yes, I see people
Near and far
Getting closer to me
Too close, as if they care me
More than I care myself

They pretend
I accept, even knowing it

I am peaceful, but
When I’m ill
People irritate me

They ask,
The same nonsense question
How are you?

I don’t have that strength to speak
Though they want to hear
The same,
Their sense wished for

I wish I could answer
The truth, accordingly
Don’t discuss nonsense
In front of me

When I’m ill, I just want to
Be vacant, be next to
The loved ones.
Genre: Clinical
in the waning days of my sojourn
when the Sun will set quicker than I remember
when I'll wish I'd taken advantage of a pain free body
and walked a bit longer in those fields of gold
searched my dreams for meaning
taken a few extra moments to absorb
the laughter of my children when they were mere toddlers
the mindset falls into one of waiting
as we drift off into the natural state of irrelevancy
like the favorite stuffed bear that is still loved
but has served its purpose
watching the world spin by upon a shelf
next to a copy of Tom Sawyer
I'd give all my remaining days
to re-live one of those fading memories
I'm finally back to writing new material after sifting through and revising some older pieces. Time to get back in the flow
the day
when i was rejected
when i was wrongly judged
when i was deceived
when the hopes were killed
inside, something died
and
the death was painful yet i survived...

then one day
i chose to forgive
the people for whom i used to live
on whom i truly relied
for me, they died
and
the death was beautiful and i revived...
Sometimes cut off from toxic people is a beautiful death
On the stage
is the one
he is not

smiles shakes hands
holds close and tight
he is right on spot.

Hides the real face
speaks and shares
like he is a saint

blamelessly white
open in the light
without a taint.

Busy in the act
to keep away the fact
he is on guard

audience gloats
over crisp anecdotes
any dissent debarred.

From a distance
some in silence
read it in bold

the gore in the glory
the gaps in the story
and all that's untold.
 Jun 2018 Nightingale
artemis
Flower Child, oh how pretty you are.
Waiting,
Blooming,
Calling,
Out to me I see.

Flower Child, oh how big you are.
Growing,
Flourishing,
Reaching,
Out to the sunlight I see.

Flower Child, oh how changed you are.
Seething,
Wilting,
Fading,
Out to the ground I see.

Flower Child, oh where have you gone?
Your colorful petals have gone,
Your smile has gone away,
The air is colder now.

- a. r.
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