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  Dec 2022 GirlScout
Ezra Pound
I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
that grew elm-oak amid the wold.
’Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart’s home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.
GirlScout Dec 2022
Excuse me, have you seen my people?
They don’t all look like me or talk like me,
But when you see them you’ll know.
Because you know me.

Well, yes actually, I have lost something! My purpose.
It was here a minute ago with me on the dance floor; and then I seem to have misplaced it…
I guess I could retrace my steps but that sounds quite boring, even painful in places. Do you have any other advice for finding it?

Sorry! Didn’t see you there, I was too concentrated  on trying to figure out the source of my happiness. I’ve heard it comes from within, but I’ve only been taught how to look outwards…
Do you know? The outside can get ever so distracting with all these pressures and changes.

Hiya guys! I think I’ve found my personality, how are you?
Yes well, I was going to ask you actually if you thought I should change it… everybody needs an upgrade these days. Do you have any ideas?

Oh ****! I’ve only just clocked myself in the mirror! How long have I been looking like that much of a misfitted ***?!!
  Nov 2020 GirlScout
Mose
I see the cracks between you & I.
The struggles of power.
A taste of control.
Dreams of a better life seeping through.
Bleeding colors of red and blue.
A rainbow painted in only two colors.
GirlScout Jul 2020
The day I realised the extraordinary
Power of the Universe
I began to take refuge in letting go.

First it was my possessions:
I took no pleasure in personal property
Felt lighter free from attachment.

Then it was my body:
I wanted nothing, but to share the little I had.
I esteemed each new person higher
Than the last and easily above myself.

Each event good or bad,
Was a gift so great because
I did not conceive it.
And when I did, I denied all liability.

Is this life just of the Universe
Or do I have a piece of power?
If each presence is a present to me,
How could I return the favour
While I'm busy falling into the flow of life?

Living through a series of passive actions
Can wear on your mind.
You become a shell.
Full of other people's opinions, actions....

Then stiff like a marionette,
Always performing for others pleasure
Saying only what they want to hear.
And when you realise these leers
Are as hollow as your actions,
You become heavy and possessive.

I saw my reflection and realised
I'd achieved the very opposite of my aim.
When I lost control I lost myself.
There was nothing new I'd gained.
self-control reflections puppet feelings
GirlScout Jul 2020
There’s a knot in my throat,
as I frown
These shakes could have another meaning.
My jaw clenches as I force myself
To reassemble dialogues in my head.
Self pity is despicable,
But not as threatening as the self doubt
That wraps around my clouded memory
And squeezes my chest, in shame.
Disgust at uninhibited reactions
Expressions of false confidence.
Although I wish for nothing more than
To retract, erase, repatch
Gauged open wounds;
I need nothing more than
those I fear I've hurt
To heal my shame.
  Jul 2020 GirlScout
Thomas W Case
On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees all
ablaze with color.
I can still smell the
smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my
heart was wild;
a wilderness that wouldn't
be tamed.
But I'm afraid that
old age has quenched my
thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed up knees and
swords made out of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
Just constipation to overcome;
as I listen to the
ticking of the clock.
GirlScout Jul 2020
Green, long grass.
Fields tamed by stone walls
Fences twisted by stray twigs.
Breeze that brushes through
Cows' ears and lambs' wools
Strokes my hair as I stare
With glee knowing that we
Are joined by this same sensation.

Perhaps they avoid stepping on bluebells
And then regrettably flatten buttercups
like me.
Might they not step on the cracks
between stones,
As I do not step on cracks between drains?

We share the same fear as other
humans approach,
Ready to flee if they come too close.
For they could be the death of us
Or we the death of them.
Once this fearful distance is breached
What will happen then?
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