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First off my friend
Let me begin
By saying I ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen

Now with those pleasantries
Out of the way
Let me proceed to say
What I need to say

I've written different poems
On different subjects, different matters
Some soft as a kitten
Others mad as a hatter

Every now and then
I stand on the serious ledge
But more often than not
I fall right off of the edge

Like I said before
I'm just a fool with a pen
Drooling from my smile
Cross eyed in my grin

Separating in rhyme
All the boys from the men
Cackling in crazy
From the beginning to the end

Thanking my lucky stars
Rhyming comes so easy
Like a trip to Venus or Mars
Half baked brain and over queasy

Like I said before
When all of this began
I really ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen
No ode for you, periwinkles
No exalted verse or prose
No lover's gift you will be
Unlike the regal rose
Not placed in summer bouquets
In vases - never seen
Nor gracing dark tresses
Nor found in floats of dreams
Yet sweet you are to me
Happy in blue and white
With your merry little faces
Like fairies and lithe sprites.
Carousel of clouds,
Tufts of white in a blue sky,
Merrily go round,
Up — down—up celebrating,
The carnival of morning.
 Mar 2024 WendyStarry Eyes
nivek
to say you have a mandate from God
the mandate can be nothing short of love
if your biblical God is Love.
Holding self proclaimed prophets to account
 Mar 2024 WendyStarry Eyes
nivek
as you dig deeper and deeper
there is much to discard
but the rewards can be eternal
When you're cloaked in a pall of gloom
Life seems bland with colours gone
The little flower in her humble bloom
Will say she's there you aren't alone.
The flower won't ever let you feel alone.
Poetry
secured in beauty …
carved high in a tree
Branches
spread and offer cover
of your history
Winter
comes and bares the promise
Spring will shade anew
Seasons
in the bark awaiting
— progeny to view

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
 Feb 2024 WendyStarry Eyes
Grace
the delight of love:
the pain you cannot surrender
in exchange for forever
"to know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love."
- Gibran
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