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"footpaths" poems
Inequality is something that should be preserved. Else who will wash my clothes and who will wash the sink full of utensils? What if we all got the same number of eyes and hands? We have created inequality with wealth and education. I cherish this inequality as I am above of some millions, else I would have been standing in queues and footpaths, begging, sleeping and scavenging.
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Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
Let it be
~ The Giraffe Cries Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain, balanced deep within the fear… Swaying to the side in calculated energy, breathing as the sweat begins to pour Toeing the line with blinders on only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath Shambles become my life’s dreams, as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand and contractual obligations The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me, teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances, blanketing the sawdust creations of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare, a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent pitched and heaved in frustration, riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts Not worth the price of admission - I wave as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding along platform bridges of age and destined footpaths The train departs…the giraffe cries
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
The Giraffe Cries
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain, balanced deep within the fear… Swaying to the side in calculated energy, breathing as the sweat begins to pour Toeing the line with blinders on only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath Shambles become my life’s dreams, as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand and contractual obligations The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me, teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances, blanketing the sawdust creations of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare, a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent pitched and heaved in frustration, riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts Not worth the price of admission - I wave as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding along platform bridges of age and destined footpaths The train departs…the giraffe cries
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
The Giraffe Cries
I first cried where freshness itself struggled to breathe. Outside the Ganges, asthmatic, began to cower back in fear, in disgust, in disease, browning like the discarded banana peels on the roadside below. I first cried in a dirt town where kings and queens drank to grass avenues and swaying music in the realms of history books. I first cried where those books aged quietly in forgotten rooms. I first cried where the streets bled out crumpling homes and cardboard stores with misspelt names, spilling children in dust dresses and hair matted into rust pieces. I first cried where those children hung babies on their arms like my mother swung her handbag, a flag of Valentino, while stumbling on crushed cans and dog **** and foetid mud-water on the way to the dentist. And the children cried out snot, their arms perpetually reaching for a rupee from the traffic. I first cried where white-lit department stores sprouted in defiant sanitation between eczema-covered apartment blocks in which washing lines drooped and parking was always a problem. I first cried where many gods and goddesses resided on the footpaths decked in glitter and cloths of rouge as old men with skin weathered into mottled leather shook beneath sheets of jute on the roadside below and offered tiny flames to their gods as morning bellowed and their coughs grew worse. I first cried where stareless men burnt their fingers on the Chinese noodles with too much chilli powder they cooked and fried and cooked for those who never saw them but to haggle over a ten rupee note, on the roadside, on every corner. I first cried as thread-blanketed teenage girls with wrinkled faces squatted amongst cows in the middles of roads, chanting prices, in voices full of tar, of the mound of peas they were selling for that week. I come every year. And I'm ashamed to say I'll never live here but in my verses because I can't stand the smell of the place where I was born. I first cried here. I first cried here.
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Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
I First Cried Here
I first cried where freshness itself struggled to breathe. Outside the Ganges, asthmatic, began to cower back in fear, in disgust, in disease, browning like the discarded banana peels on the roadside below. I first cried in a dirt town where kings and queens drank to grass avenues and swaying music in the realms of history books. I first cried where those books aged quietly in forgotten rooms. I first cried where the streets bled out crumpling homes and cardboard stores with misspelt names, spilling children in dust dresses and hair matted into rust pieces. I first cried where those children hung babies on their arms like my mother swung her handbag, a flag of Valentino, while stumbling on crushed cans and dog **** and foetid mud-water on the way to the dentist. And the children cried out snot, their arms perpetually reaching for a rupee from the traffic. I first cried where white-lit department stores sprouted in defiant sanitation between eczema-covered apartment blocks in which washing lines drooped and parking was always a problem. I first cried where many gods and goddesses resided on the footpaths decked in glitter and cloths of rouge as old men with skin weathered into mottled leather shook beneath sheets of jute on the roadside below and offered tiny flames to their gods as morning bellowed and their coughs grew worse. I first cried where stareless men burnt their fingers on the Chinese noodles with too much chilli powder they cooked and fried and cooked for those who never saw them but to haggle over a ten rupee note, on the roadside, on every corner. I first cried as thread-blanketed teenage girls with wrinkled faces squatted amongst cows in the middles of roads, chanting prices, in voices full of tar, of the mound of peas they were selling for that week. I come every year. And I'm ashamed to say I'll never live here but in my verses because I can't stand the smell of the place where I was born. I first cried here. I first cried here.
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91
You're  here today in your spot Where the footpaths cross And a little to the left Under those tall trees On a patch of flat earth. Across the grass to the right The old Plane, magnificent In structure spreads branches Like a globe of lightest green Catching the glittering  sun. Your easel, an old brown relic With leather carrying handle Held together by a strap Carries your canvas and paints Whilst you wear a tweed cap. And what I like, standing back To watch, is the quiet consistency Of observation; two living forms Joining in the imagination To create beauty and truth. Love Mary
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
Standing back
I staggered through the desert, dressed in brown rags, ripped. I was surrounded by flies. They picked at my sweaty forehead, spoiled my food. I had in an old wicker basket two crisp apples, which are brown now, thanks to those flies. My feet are dry, cracked and ****** not from flies— from hot scorpions. They hide under sand and pick at my feet. One day I left my house n’went for a walk; kicked open my front door         walked over the old stone bridge over water bright and blue, for         miles and miles, on footpaths by little rivers, through mossy forests, knee-deep in marshes, hiking over rocky, cold mountains, stammering across the plains. I saw the desert: punched me in the gut. Beautiful, I thought— immortal. A great tornado of sand came whisking from the dunes. I checked my watch: The glass was shattered. The hands were bent crooked. I unstrapped my watch and threw it on the edge of the desert and I sprinted toward the endless tan horizon, kicked off my rotten shoes         to feel the hot sand between my toes and ran. I fell and fell asleep. I was bored in my old, old house. The floor was always swept to shine, my bookcase: big, glossy, oak monstrosity. And no, I did not have a wife, or children. I lived in a sunny village, paved with stone. By the fountain, birds sang, merchants sold felt and mallets. I’m too tired for explanations. And besides, there is no trick, I left to leave, to run and jump and roll and howl. I knew it would end, like this or something similar. I decided to just lie down, and the vultures came like a great black cloud to circle, and the heat, the headache, my body buzzed cooled a dizzy, breaking feeling came and body was freed         like ice smashing to shards . . . on desert floor, old rags drenched         in sweat-body. I open my eyes wide. I keep them open. Tears come to my eyes. I let the sun blind me. I turn over on my side and close my eyes, see red. My eyelids are hot. The vultures caw and shriek like squealing pigs. I’m dizzy and my head feels thick. The vultures will eat me, rip my skin with beaks, and the flies will buzz around me until I’m bones, but I came here just to come here, and I lied here just to lie, and I lived just to live, so then I’ll die now just to die.
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Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
The Desert
I staggered through the desert, dressed in brown rags, ripped. I was surrounded by flies. They picked at my sweaty forehead, spoiled my food. I had in an old wicker basket two crisp apples, which are brown now, thanks to those flies. My feet are dry, cracked and ****** not from flies— from hot scorpions. They hide under sand and pick at my feet. One day I left my house n’went for a walk; kicked open my front door         walked over the old stone bridge over water bright and blue, for         miles and miles, on footpaths by little rivers, through mossy forests, knee-deep in marshes, hiking over rocky, cold mountains, stammering across the plains. I saw the desert: punched me in the gut. Beautiful, I thought— immortal. A great tornado of sand came whisking from the dunes. I checked my watch: The glass was shattered. The hands were bent crooked. I unstrapped my watch and threw it on the edge of the desert and I sprinted toward the endless tan horizon, kicked off my rotten shoes         to feel the hot sand between my toes and ran. I fell and fell asleep. I was bored in my old, old house. The floor was always swept to shine, my bookcase: big, glossy, oak monstrosity. And no, I did not have a wife, or children. I lived in a sunny village, paved with stone. By the fountain, birds sang, merchants sold felt and mallets. I’m too tired for explanations. And besides, there is no trick, I left to leave, to run and jump and roll and howl. I knew it would end, like this or something similar. I decided to just lie down, and the vultures came like a great black cloud to circle, and the heat, the headache, my body buzzed cooled a dizzy, breaking feeling came and body was freed         like ice smashing to shards . . . on desert floor, old rags drenched         in sweat-body. I open my eyes wide. I keep them open. Tears come to my eyes. I let the sun blind me. I turn over on my side and close my eyes, see red. My eyelids are hot. The vultures caw and shriek like squealing pigs. I’m dizzy and my head feels thick. The vultures will eat me, rip my skin with beaks, and the flies will buzz around me until I’m bones, but I came here just to come here, and I lied here just to lie, and I lived just to live, so then I’ll die now just to die.
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Clouds flat as pancakes line the sky hovering over rivers and lakes, roaming across prairies and bluffs Seasoned with a bitter sweetness. Some trees less lively than others, Some blaze with a unique aura. Wild reeds and wild weeds ride the wind-- Brown and rusted like train track bolts. Signs for a woodshop boutique lead down a road prancing deer wander. Sun rays hint shades of light through cracks Revealing a scene to be seen. The red, the orange, the yellow-green. Brown, sleeping stalks of corn in rows And the scare crow standing tall in The middle, still in nights silence. Lifeless leaves falling to the ground Leave colored murals on footpaths Soon to be covered with sheets of Snow as nature prepares to sleep.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Beauty Sleep
Strolling along the footpaths in my mind Kicking away unwanted leaves Never knowing what I might find or indeed what my journey achieves. I know hopes and dreams are buried somewhere in a file I clearly wanted to relive Most of my dreams are on a wing and a prayer and some of my hopes are wanting to forgive. I come across memories from a short while ago I sit on the bank and on my face there is a smile Across the stream shines a golden glow I plan to sit and dream just for a while. I feel a chill and there is a twinkle from a distant star I have lost track of time; dusk has arrived too soon Visions of my youth has nudged me from afar and I hear gentle whispers from the silvery moon.
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May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
Whispers From The Moon
The silver moon falls from sight as the rising tide kisses adjacent piers. The cool morning rests over the gentle bay as clouds commute covering the light of day. Brown thrashers rhythmically mimic stolen song as they traverse the canal. Barefoot toes roam freely frequenting familiar footpaths. Minute minnow mouths toy with the bait bobbing the cork. Experienced hands handle seafood adopting its scent while the blue ***** boil into crimson. Afternoon showers cool the earth as a mysterious moon lowers the tide. Night falls again in Mississippi.
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Jun 6, 2023
Jun 6, 2023 at 4:21 PM UTC
Mississippi
I tire of this Patriarchy The footpaths, The Guidelines The strict Dogma, The misogynistic guise I tire of these Sins The evil manipulation, The father of my fathers The pleasure of power, The hearts swollen with hate I tire of this Psychological Harem The predestination, The pain of letting things go The image staring back at me, The toxic masculinity
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
To Tire of Old Ways
Tired Brain spits words in fits and starts The internal running commentary misfiring badly Ideas stuck in bottlenecks Traffic backed up and down the on-ramps Leading off the congested thoughtways Tired Stormwater overflow pours out of blocked drains Sidling up the gutters of fallen leaves And other assorted detritus of modern existence Spewing out over footpaths and under cars And over the tops of the boots of downtrodden dawn treaders Tired Mountain pass impassable under it’s mercurial precipitate mask Features only glimpsed in snatches Like looking through a white picket fence while running Thought trees bunching up around the middle Warping under the sun and the scrutiny of others Tired Collapsing under the weight of the wave function Subatomic particles currently in a state of nonexistence Abandoned altogether by the Higgs, thoughts vibrate and dissipate In extraordinary frequency and noise Drowned out by the audible hum of the big bang Tired As if running a marathon in treacle Start with a whimper then dribble to a halt Running barefoot on salt flats Or over pillows in stilettos More time spent on face than feet Tired Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more The court jester prances for the Big Queen ***** And her merry King of Fools with his band of merry drunkards Quickly losing the point of it all As words start tumbling down in random order Staccato signal messages like binary or Morse code Information overload threatens to upend the boatload Like the military dumping refugees into the harbour Buckle up armour and wait for the onslaught Of somnatic visions, twisted psychedelic impressions Land mine concussions in the fevered dreams of veterans Who witnessed limb torn from limb In the name of something nobody remembers Lose their tempers and start a war on home turf Jungles petrified into concrete monstrosities that blot out the sun From the flowers that feed in the cracks of the pavement Everywhere bereavement and none shall take leave From the cold, impassive logic of Death Who comes knocking as you read this Wired No chance of sleep now This is why one shouldn’t write poetry late at night
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Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
Why one shouldn’t write poetry late at night
Tired Brain spits words in fits and starts The internal running commentary misfiring badly Ideas stuck in bottlenecks Traffic backed up and down the on-ramps Leading off the congested thoughtways Tired Stormwater overflow pours out of blocked drains Sidling up the gutters of fallen leaves And other assorted detritus of modern existence Spewing out over footpaths and under cars And over the tops of the boots of downtrodden dawn treaders Tired Mountain pass impassable under it’s mercurial precipitate mask Features only glimpsed in snatches Like looking through a white picket fence while running Thought trees bunching up around the middle Warping under the sun and the scrutiny of others Tired Collapsing under the weight of the wave function Subatomic particles currently in a state of nonexistence Abandoned altogether by the Higgs, thoughts vibrate and dissipate In extraordinary frequency and noise Drowned out by the audible hum of the big bang Tired As if running a marathon in treacle Start with a whimper then dribble to a halt Running barefoot on salt flats Or over pillows in stilettos More time spent on face than feet Tired Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more The court jester prances for the Big Queen ***** And her merry King of Fools with his band of merry drunkards Quickly losing the point of it all As words start tumbling down in random order Staccato signal messages like binary or Morse code Information overload threatens to upend the boatload Like the military dumping refugees into the harbour Buckle up armour and wait for the onslaught Of somnatic visions, twisted psychedelic impressions Land mine concussions in the fevered dreams of veterans Who witnessed limb torn from limb In the name of something nobody remembers Lose their tempers and start a war on home turf Jungles petrified into concrete monstrosities that blot out the sun From the flowers that feed in the cracks of the pavement Everywhere bereavement and none shall take leave From the cold, impassive logic of Death Who comes knocking as you read this Wired No chance of sleep now This is why one shouldn’t write poetry late at night
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Footpaths fidgeted ‘Neath her fragile toes, Wind whispered secrets Within eternal woes. When the lunar and The lunatic ride ambitious With their foes She waits in hunger For the fair, kind Wolf.
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Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
Wolf like Flower
All the roads, footpaths, and roughened trails of my beginnings Lead me to the map of your heart, that long buried treasure. I will trace words and phrases along the contours of your lips, And glide cautiously across the footbridge of your wanting. You will be stilled by the weight of my breath upon your brow, And you will know love at a pace that awakens you to your own preciousness.
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Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Removing Roadblocks
* “For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand”* Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes and patterns allowing breaths to sigh Eyes peer into velvet skies, visions set in motion eternally, find me stranded within the confines of my heart, longing for you Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow, a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival of this crested view Lonely among the maples, towering soldiers lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom as they too reach for your smile “And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view” Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths, candle lit in passing moments which flicker, enchant Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand, a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings, ripples following moonlight sonatas, days of spring blooms and whimsical showers, flooding affections to wash over me, carry me to you This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls, beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion “Does your heart share this moon tonight, with me”
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Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Does your heart share this moon tonight
a mountain just like all others who displays all of its mediocrity and indifferences for the world to see but will allow those who care enough to stumble through its raggedy footpaths to acknowledge the true beauty that exists within the mountain top lakes
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
the concealer
**I crossed paths With an icy princess who left Indelible footpaths on mine embittered soul.**
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
Love-struck....15W
~ “For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand” Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty; In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes and patterns allowing breaths to sigh Eyes peer into velvet skies, visions set in motion eternally, find me stranded within the confines of my heart…longing for you Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow, a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival of this crested view Lonely among the sycamore, towering soldiers lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom as they too reach for your smile “And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view” Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths, candle lit in passing moments which flicker…enchant Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand, a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings, ripples following moonlight sonatas, days of spring blooms and whimsical showers, flooding affections to wash over me… carry me home This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls, beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion “Does your heart share this moon tonight…with me”
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:12 AM UTC
As evening takes my hand
Wander worried rambler roam. Wander down the path of a riverside wood. Step by step, Shuffle to and fro. A Forgotten industry remains. Man made mines, Dug out quarries, Fencing, barbed wire, power lines, and pressure treated wooden poles. Littering the landscape. A blood letting favor, favored low. A hydroelectric dam. Murky and historical waters enter its mouth, and then, exit from its other side. Constantly ******* and spitting, and churning turbine whine, Spinning gear stuck, clamped to the spine. Luck may have it that these waters may never go dry. Luck may have it that these currents stay 'live. Merrily manic, it flows. Strong and bold, sparkle, sprung, sold! Pushes and rolls, gives and goes. Cold. Electric mother glow. Neon, argon, blazing blast, to give city speckled lights a mast. A grip to grasp, to squeeze, to cast, shadows in the night. Yellow, orange, red, and blue, the shades of dreamers, with their sorrows leaded, heavy, holy truths. Unspoken tomorrows, last goodbyes, mouthed silently at last in their heads a film score out of time. The air is baked, the land is spry. The sun is shattered through prism pines. I carry myself upon the leaves, of dead footsteps, make believe. Native footpaths of long ago and red sandstone trail of men to behold. Come to this place and let sights be known, Come to this place and let sights be known, histories of ours, histories bygone.
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
The Red Sandstone Trail
through dawn i stumble, singing to bustling streets through clenched teeth, through wavering eyelids i am the sum of the sleep i haven't got. i was lost, and couldn't and can't tell if this day pervades, but; lost like this, lost undercurrent, while caverns of cloud subsume, i can take this. in an instant, lucid life is a dream i carve whilst awake. i'd never seen vanishing as perfectly as this platanus leaf beneath rain, beneath me. the sky dissolves as i breathe, choking on city air. at the end of everything, i draw out short straws. indisciplined, the spaces between my heartbeats become, to curl up and writhe and scream aloud your name, to take down the whole **** coast on the single point we intersect, with hope; to fall into your life, like slow leaves to footpaths.
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
apricot flame
4 o'clock, saturday Dread and Panic are holding hands in my chest: An extraordinary case of the mean reds watching the gray from my kitchen window the cars parked over cement fields precisely 300 vehicles when full the boy sitting on a gray bench waiting with his baseball, shh! His gray father is shouting at his gray phone, his gray wife finally called that number. all gray.       the sky here is almost always sleeping a blanket of melting nimbus the gulls slide inoffensively over the roofs our courtyard grass trembles for them the wind falls out of the bay wind, the world traveler without a suitcase I imagine it kicking up dust in exotic fields only the rocks are gray there, gray because they deserve to be. the whole scene is quite extraordinary A Run Of Wild Horses! Gall-lop-ing gliding offensively, red and white and gold shining sweaty and flying! can you imagine? --it's starting to rain and the boy is still sitting, he's so gray now I can hardly see him the wind still spills in from the bay down the road where I can see them running from my window- Mains whipping like flags of furious change Hooves beating down the cement footpaths The streetlamps are crumpling into heaps of flowers Tails raging back and forth, metronomous passion chords Fast, rapid gaining (Lover's Heartbeat) -the boy is yet unaware legs of inspiration fast approaching -the cars twist into red willows over golden hope fields Shh! His father, master of gray has been sacked! Tr-am-pled! Now his body of flowers lay in the street! Arrest. They have arrested. Standing tall and silent like Liberty they take the boy upon their shoulders, an acrobatic wonder and continue slowly across the grass -it still trembles for them and take flight, to the next courtyard and then the next. I'll never forget the grayness of his eyes as he disappeared over the trees who were once chimneys, his mouth was stuffed full of flowers.
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC
A Run of Wild Horses
4 o'clock, saturday Dread and Panic are holding hands in my chest: An extraordinary case of the mean reds watching the gray from my kitchen window the cars parked over cement fields precisely 300 vehicles when full the boy sitting on a gray bench waiting with his baseball, shh! His gray father is shouting at his gray phone, his gray wife finally called that number. all gray.       the sky here is almost always sleeping a blanket of melting nimbus the gulls slide inoffensively over the roofs our courtyard grass trembles for them the wind falls out of the bay wind, the world traveler without a suitcase I imagine it kicking up dust in exotic fields only the rocks are gray there, gray because they deserve to be. the whole scene is quite extraordinary A Run Of Wild Horses! Gall-lop-ing gliding offensively, red and white and gold shining sweaty and flying! can you imagine? --it's starting to rain and the boy is still sitting, he's so gray now I can hardly see him the wind still spills in from the bay down the road where I can see them running from my window- Mains whipping like flags of furious change Hooves beating down the cement footpaths The streetlamps are crumpling into heaps of flowers Tails raging back and forth, metronomous passion chords Fast, rapid gaining (Lover's Heartbeat) -the boy is yet unaware legs of inspiration fast approaching -the cars twist into red willows over golden hope fields Shh! His father, master of gray has been sacked! Tr-am-pled! Now his body of flowers lay in the street! Arrest. They have arrested. Standing tall and silent like Liberty they take the boy upon their shoulders, an acrobatic wonder and continue slowly across the grass -it still trembles for them and take flight, to the next courtyard and then the next. I'll never forget the grayness of his eyes as he disappeared over the trees who were once chimneys, his mouth was stuffed full of flowers.
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52
unbound feet escort me afar from whence i came the long forgotten footpaths lay long behind my memory searching, i wander through the vast sea of green before me the raging wind captured in the brief rush of eager leaves quick to their demise sheltering my easy steps from the traces of the shadow walkers who track me in the night hark, now i hear them calling their hungry voices decline in me the longing for new land beyond the crystal coastline where i can abandon the thick desolation of the land you once called home
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Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
navigator
you could say, are long dirt roads that never end trotted on by horses (you can call them men) Women you could say, are cobble stone streets constantly impaled by stilettoed friends (you could call them men) Women you could say, are black tar roads riddled with curves and bends plowed on by Subarus (otherwise known as men) Women you could say, are nice footpaths in the park run on by children around the age of ten (often boys that grow up to be men)
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Women
Starry-eyed, I peeked at you through the shop window The salesman’s toothy smile was nothing to your new-polished glow. Your fake leather belts and stiff rubber soles Made me dream of journeys sans mud, debris, and potholes. The salesman whispered the ‘discounted rate’ delicately into my ears, I glanced down at my slender wallet and blinked back my tears. My feet slid into your gentle folds, a warrior coming home, I was fifty short but in your embrace, the world I wished to roam. Your beauty was unsurpassed, though the insoles did itch, And your buckles gleamed like fairy dust, when the toe-cap pulled a stitch. You helped me traverse wet sand heaps on under-construction roads You stood with me on the roller-coaster of rush-hour public transport. You were with me through the muddy puddles, of early monsoon Caked with dirt, you stayed alert, through alleys litter-strewn. You held me in your hard embrace on broken footpaths Helped me slink through curfew gates not even the cat could surpass. And I should have known, you were too good for this town My fake leather sandals with the rubber soles of brown. As I hung off the bottom step of the spasmodic minibus Beneath me the buckles ripped, the outsoles gave up. And I know that over the months, we’ve had our fights And I’ve said more than once that you were overpriced. Though it’s true that I think you could have done with a discount Never let them tell you, our bond wasn’t profound. All my neighbors know of your tales of valor What you lacked in durability, you made up for in glamor. So what if the heels were rickety and the insoles tickled? The road to affordable beauty with potholes is riddled!
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Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC
An Elegy on the Death of My Fake Leather Sandals
Starry-eyed, I peeked at you through the shop window The salesman’s toothy smile was nothing to your new-polished glow. Your fake leather belts and stiff rubber soles Made me dream of journeys sans mud, debris, and potholes. The salesman whispered the ‘discounted rate’ delicately into my ears, I glanced down at my slender wallet and blinked back my tears. My feet slid into your gentle folds, a warrior coming home, I was fifty short but in your embrace, the world I wished to roam. Your beauty was unsurpassed, though the insoles did itch, And your buckles gleamed like fairy dust, when the toe-cap pulled a stitch. You helped me traverse wet sand heaps on under-construction roads You stood with me on the roller-coaster of rush-hour public transport. You were with me through the muddy puddles, of early monsoon Caked with dirt, you stayed alert, through alleys litter-strewn. You held me in your hard embrace on broken footpaths Helped me slink through curfew gates not even the cat could surpass. And I should have known, you were too good for this town My fake leather sandals with the rubber soles of brown. As I hung off the bottom step of the spasmodic minibus Beneath me the buckles ripped, the outsoles gave up. And I know that over the months, we’ve had our fights And I’ve said more than once that you were overpriced. Though it’s true that I think you could have done with a discount Never let them tell you, our bond wasn’t profound. All my neighbors know of your tales of valor What you lacked in durability, you made up for in glamor. So what if the heels were rickety and the insoles tickled? The road to affordable beauty with potholes is riddled!
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Young children skip stones on the lake. The boys, they "accidently" fall in. Mistakes are the best memories made. Laughter fills the sweet summer air. On their chubby cheeks the sun dances and they breathe in the lucious smell of springs late blooming flowers. Summer is finally here. Handmade Lemonade stands scatter footpaths and lemon peels litter the street. Lemonade 5cents Daisy chains rest on the older girls heads as they tan in the sun. And in ten years time, polaroids will fill their walls Of this beautiful summer in the town by the lake.
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Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
Summer sun.
baptism from the clouds washes away channelling to the harbour broken branches in gutters leaves strewn across footpaths wild urban obstacles puddles stay wet socks umbrella struggles a moment of teasing blue drifts to grey portents time enough to clear eaves unblock drains prepare for another cleansing
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
Deluge