"of the most peculiar kind!"
Melody W 

Sullen branches snake around,
ensnaring this putrid temple once more,
no longer entranced by the mellow song
reverberating from the deep hollows

I cut just below the dotted lines
to preserve sanity - disrupted order
fleeing like a thief ashamed at forgetting
his mother's name in the failing light

These watchmen await, unseeing eyes
grown cold with a film that no amount
of purifying ritual could ever restore,
much like the panels of unforgiving night

Ah, the travesty of resolute desire
hidden under terrible, heavy cloaks
of the most peculiar kind!
Forlorn threads still hang
from the bare branches
of a love worn thin.

"of another kind"
Melody W 

Unblinking night
illuminated by those
long forgotten auras

We linger together
in unveiling separation,
peeling tangerines in the dark

Wordlessly we wait,
our searching palms
exchanging silent energy

And as the night air sighs,
nestling on our bed,
we embraced oddities
of another kind

strange rivulets trickling
down our upturned faces,
undeniably more than this
faint reminiscence
of tangerines

"s thinking in words that'll get me some kind of verse."
April Watson 

I read so much poetry i've started to think in rhymes,
then I start to wonder if i'm good enough to write a few lines.

Always thinking in words that'll get me some kind of verse.
Something that sounds not too predictable and hopefully not rehearsed.

I wonder if it in my head is as good as it is written down.
And if out loud it doesn't sound too profound.

I want to create something that has a hook.
Something that makes you take a second look.

It'll be simple but deep from the heart.
Some one will read it and say "that's fine art".

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