beings
trying to
cope with a
human
awakening.

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on the page,
the cup chipped
on the windowsill.
wood stacked against
the porch,
the shadows on the
empty swing.
the kiss lost,
and the ring.
red dirt dried
on the shovel,
the old boots left
by the door.
the creaking of the
screen door opening,
the box tied and
packed away.
hunger sap dried
on novel sheets,
the half smoked cigarette
lying in the ashtray.
the sound of the empty room,
in that old house on nowhere lane!

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Of Poetry!
What is
Your opinion about
This here?
There are
Many boats going on
On this stream!
Yeah! A lot
Of poetry boats are
Many going on!
Whose boat
Are you going on
Poetry stream?

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Oh, the things that people do
As life they uncover,
Can we ever discover?
The reason for the unreasonable
The breakthroughs from tradition,
That seem in a way, treasonable,
But it feels so good,
To break with some traditions,
Progress is made,
From experimental, renditions.

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Never to be seen again,
Nothing, ever lasts
Nor us, nor we, nor them
Once the die is cast
And Life is on its way,
There is no turning back
Till our final day,
But how we miss our Past!
The once lived, happy days,
For some, yet not for all,
Those days, those years
That won’t come back,
Like first Roses of May
Like Love that’s gone away.

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