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winnie the poem Dec 2024
Once, in a place
where breath carried
whispers forward,
I felt the soft touch
of lips—yours and mine.

Your hand in mine,
the tether to a world
where all was one,
yet where nothing
seemed to align.

Through the dance
of words, I journeyed,
carried by the wind
brushing past your ears.

Years moved
like shadows,
heavier than tears,
and in the haze
of what seemed real,
I found something.

Water cradled me,
holding me above
fear's deep tide.

The currents flowed
the same—yet everything
vanished, like the sun
bowing to the moon
in the darkness of night.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
Us
We understand much of ourselves
and another understands themselves

I have understanding for the other
and I understand that I am also another
winnie the poem Nov 2024
Is this what lingers, soft and deep...
A thread of warmth in winter's keep?
I touch the fire, the golden hue,
And feel the ache of loving you.

The sky weeps orange, the stars burn pink,
Moments pass faster than we think.
A lion's roar fades into mist,
Like dreams lost in a lover's kiss.

Yet still, I fight—through endless night,
To hold the flame, to seek the light.
For every shadow hides the gleam,
Of honeyed whispers in a dream.

You are the echo, the silent call,
The rise, the fall—the all in all.
Though colors fade and time moves free, In every hue, you’re part of me.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
The ink of my thoughts scribed down,
a language once spoken, now distant and worn.
All in the past of life,
interwoven stories I could never read.

My words were written in black,
my point almost made,
but even as the letter closed,
the meaning arrived too late.

Maybe I chose this,
maybe this could be me...
But if this was my soul,
if my soul carved this path,
it left scars on the boy who held it.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
The crown on my head is a golden
yellow light, and yet... when time
feels wondrous and bright,
the love and sorrow feels
hollow when i write.
They say that i am less,
that i am... who i am,
and it was not
in my stillness,
nor in the night.
I question
about something
that never might,
something about me,
something about life.
While my own eyes
cry in fear, a little tear,
and always at the end
off one lasting year.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
I am sorry… You are not me but a man I am, in he and me. Away from you my friend, soul mates try not to talk, scream or pray. So I cannot speak like you Tom, my muse 'Today' a million miles … down the street from my house door - from a howling clown’s illness. Don’t let there truth: be like our far-he is a liar in a red dress, and his lies…never rests. Be careful as I have to tell, be ashamed of messing around with me. Don’t worry… I have my doubts about it all, and will never forget. Get overwhelmed by that? Tell my friend, as it was just saying to myself; never mind… that isn’t about me. Roll and dictate so over the age, again… I have to sing song’s farewell to Him, in a sin, as we all have… a chance to be His. Forgive me if. You to become. You never loved me as much, I forgive. Laugh to me as a genius mind walk, be your craftsman reader, and so forth with the master of that amazing proud. Ask yourself’ why is this Family not allowed in your friend’s shame house? Why should I know about a secret relationship between a wife or any other person in that farmhouse life. We have a garden upon our own land to make it better than it was. Sorry to hear about yours. Please let the owner known that this … "Nonsenses has made reality for us" Oh… by now you know, at least some people think. Butterflies faces me to death, it’s a some off that what the actually ****. On the left corner between humanity and a yellow ****** web… not sure why, also 'called' the in of a mental cage - actually named the Internet. We learn, and stop begging for help… today I did a prayer for Mother Earth, and every other e-name figure was in it to learn. My friends, I am not earthly anymore, and you knew that before I told. Wellbeing has always existed, except it … I did never know the future of my sons … towards moonlight under Christ, eyes Moses: 'Me as three in a tree of flowers I am 'tread on laps paper path of a three timeline forestry. Am I aware? None of this has happened before, and truly is for me to own; I don’t know everything about it, but it was disappointing as I said: ' I never forget '. Rhapsody noons on the day first book also made out off the moons lost hidden world - that’s the page (on a map) sided with me. Do well and keep up your journey. Nowadays flopped it out of no wherever… so, maybe it’s a thing of the past: it is not just about being able to get; Tomorrow is Tommy even more than sixteen. Tears look like shame? Is this truly a mind blowing performance? What if the brainwashed fools me to call me clown? Full on comedy, laughing was not even funny before meeting me. Heart warming the most beautiful drop in seven months upon heavens, and stars the skies. Loses all… we have been waiting for…forever, later in every note still wrote that ' happy Friday night, but also happy Sunday, as well for all the wonderful memories - The world has to be seemingly endless love.. evolved towards you and me, and so hear the second heartbeat bouncing, bounding both sides, and even more touching Your hands. I know you all have the only God within, and I am here to play the role off my shoulders it was very thoughtful to know: Please accept my offer… I am at the edge, and I won’t leave the sea for a while… way to go with a little blue wolf, but it’s cold here… and I forgot my clothes.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
Roses are red while black withers
the evening into a white death
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