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 Jul 2020 Chris
Bluelily
The torrid wind stole my bloomed love..
I empty my tears on to the mirror
My days yearn for the nights
I can't breathe but am not dead
My heart sobs away all night
Dreams die in my barren mind
Oh my beloved! Laments my soul
 Apr 2019 Chris
Sierra
Changing
 Apr 2019 Chris
Sierra
I’m changing and lost
The sorrows of tomorrow
Haunt my waking thoughts
 Feb 2019 Chris
Stephan
Yellow flower

I dreamt that I was floating on a cloud of velvet mist
and was a yellow flower that a moon beam hadn’t kissed
I strolled along the treetops like a spider on a thread
while listening to the echoes of a choir dressed in red

Then stood along the border of the place where we once met
and whispered to a butterfly so it would not forget
To gather up some star dust in a braid so finely spun
that we could use to swing away beneath a summer sun

I walked between the lavender in purple blooms so high
that seemed to tickle as I jumped now reaching for the sky
Just wandering about this place where rainbows glow in twos
enchanted by the magic of their brightly colored hues

When there beside a lily pad where crystal waters flow
I saw a perfect smile and my eyes could not let go
And as you stood to greet me I was bathed in wondrous bliss
a lonely yellow flower longing for your moon beam kiss

Your lips like melted butter with some sugar on the side
their taste made me delirious, oh this I could not hide
When then you said, “this is a dream and soon you will awake”
I answered you, “it matters not, your love with me I’ll take”

Its then I woke to find my pillow gently ‘round my head
I thought about the dream I had and all the things we said
Then turning now I see you as your smile comes to me
You whisper,”kiss me yellow flower, my dream you’ll always be”
 Jan 2019 Chris
Deepali Agarwal
Drops of mist hang loosely on his overcoat,
As he waits underneath the same tree,
Gaze fixed at the window,
Waiting for the beloved,
To again arise from her sleep.
Writers are often called 'mental travelers',
finding inspiration in imaginative thought;
They follow dreams to many magical places,
and learn about a life that can't be bought.

A story can develop from different angles,
releasing all the joy and sorrow it holds;
Describing wondrous visions from the heart,
with mindfulness of the pleasures that unfold.

The colors of the soul are on display,
they float along with mystery and intrigue;
We find ourselves wrapped up inside the words,
while they promote our aspirations to achieve.

The true poet creates images which survive,
and carry us into worlds of saving grace;
Each verse begins a journey to the stars,
where eager minds discover their 'special space'.
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