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Raining into my soul, all the sadness of a lifetime folding itself into my being.
Increased joy unfolding itself in many rhymes of imagination, telling everyone about a life beyond my own.
Not being able to get out of the hospital and go to the cafe to listen
Feeling saddened by this predicament and wanting to be extracted from it as soon as possible.Wandering up and down interior pianos, poetry wanting to be expressed in talented voices, singing karaoke in the night.After effects culminating in blanket strands of tonight’s inherent rhythms, being put to sleep without being soothed in musical melodies and written…
Silence keeping still in precarious positions, trying not to offend anyone with inaccurate predictions.
Always keeping track all the time, as tempos rise and change over time.
Autonomous gatherings of ideas being generated by sorrow, grief and remorse.
Letting go without a word left, sorrow’s tears now replacing words in verse.
A poet’s world is a lonely one from all appearances.
surroundings or people.Inside, deeply quiet, keeping pace with serene wanderings of thesoul.Curiously seeking out new experiences and placing them in memoriesnewly created.Wondering, tuning in to inner whisperings, carefully not letting themstray too far.Hiding on cloudy days to stay inside and play happily alone with ideasand images of my own doing.Vibrating the core of all being…
Bursts of color sprinkled across the lawn of earth, standing prettily, faces turned up, watching passers-by.
Leaf hands held gingerly at their sides, then reaching skyward.