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Is it only as black as widow ?
Can it be white as snow ?
Lingering, as a question i do not know.
What i do know, there is an existance called shadow.
We can see the shadow in all senses,
Especially the sixth sense.
Does it have any significance ?
Does it have a purpose ?
Is its existance coincidence ?
Can it be exhibited as evidence ?
Is it there, even when we dont see it in sight of light ?
Does it always have to be a physical appearance ?
Can we not have mental shadows, logically lingering.
Can we not have shadows of the soul, emotionally lingering.
Physically, as natural as creation.
Consciencely, as natural as creation.
Consciously, as natural as creation.
Perhaps, reflecting the resemblance of life in other dimmentional realms in dimmentional angles.
I have subsribed to being a scribe.
Scribble rapture with my scripture,
Scripture to free and capture.
Fertilising manure to mature,
Scribe on scriber.
When is it the right time to write?
When the timing is right ?
When the moment is ripe ?
When the mood is right?
Writting wrongs and turning wrongs to right?
Whatever about,
When you feel wronged ?
When the feelings are not placed right ?
What then? when that all is left?.
Like a heart
Like sanity
When the crowd has left?
No right-hand man
Take a wrong turn in life
Take a write turn in life
Is it wrong then to
write?
Is even, wrong or right the basis to write?
I am aware one has to learn to write to be able to write.
However,
Does one need writting basics through lessons to write right?
If there is a right way to write.
And,
Can one write to touch bases,
Right at the moment of experience?
Write about moments of experience?
Is there even the right time to write?
OR
its just a matter of having time to write,
Make the time to write.
Then,
That would mean everytime is write-on time.
Light as a feather
Drawn by winds, the paper flies
Paperweight it needs

Bills in paper nails
Value packed, together stacked
Business they made

Light as a feather
Changes course, as does the wind
Fair weather friend

Be not the paper
On the nail, stuck forever
Nor a paperweight
There is so much to paper, light, yet holds weight
Be like the paper, yet not get weighed down
  Mar 2021 Masibulele Ntsepo
Diana
You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.
It's time now
To write
Everything you dreamed of


your beauty is so great
that not even the rain dared to touch you


memories
willows on the path
moved softly by the wind
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
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