Posts
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A Family Buried Amongst Wildflowers
I cannot wait for you to arrive home in the beating summer
of post-war with your soul taken by order of the governor.
I cannot wait for your bleeding ink letters written in haste -
A longing for sunburn
The moonlight casts a lonesome silhouette
of where your body would bring the picture
to life in this humanly incomplete puzzle,
pillows and blankets jaggedly shuffled and
stuffed into vacant cracks, and I dream that the chilled -
Garden of Ending
The domestication of the wolf into dogs is
comparable to the snatching of virulent
plants to make them minimalistic million-dollar
loft decor. Please, for the love of God, indulgent -
"I DON'T WANT TO END UP SIMPLY HAVING VISITED THIS WORLD"
"I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world" - "When Death Comes", Mary Oliver
My soul is still an empty basket in which I
still need to fill with the experiences in life I don’t -
Poetry in my everyday
My life is not nearly as poetic
as the nature of humanity.
However, if you weave the right words together,
anything can become poetry.
The life cycle represents how life is round
just as Keats once said. -
What the Fae's Do in Their Spare Time
Gather around rock circles in an unruly display.
Tussle with the cattails until the sky explodes with snowflakes.
Poke at the cryptic critters living beneath the sand of the lakes.
Guide the fish away from casted lines, just to mess
Loves
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Who Is Autumn?
Autumn is a woman with a top hat and golden eyes atop a horse as dark as night.
Autumn is the auburn hills glowing in the light of the harvest moon.
Autumn is the pumpkins and the squash and the nostalgia.
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Hood Rats: A collection of Poetry- About 5 PM
5 pm
Is a time of day where it's not quite night yet.
Some would say, The day is young.
Others would argue, the day is over.
They will get in their cars and drive home to their families.
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Better Things
autumn leaves, they
fall to the pine-bathed
soil, and my heart falls
with them, and I think it's burning
too, burning too, for all it takes
is one glance into your
amber eyes, september sight, and
you've got my -
The Artist of Fall
When night awakes sooner,
and the stars become brighter,
Fall descends onto the land.
Soon enough, winter will bring its false sand,
until then, the leaves paint the sky-
as the trees and wind begin to sigh.
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New Polaroids
Amber leaves cling
To umber trees reaching
Frayed roots deep into the ground.
They've told you time
And time again, "autumn is the season
Of the dead.
Green leaves rusting, flowers
Dusting over till the pink -
Spooky Season
When the air is crisp,
with a chilly breeze,
fall puts a spell on me.
The leaves fall in a wisp,
as an artist weaves-
a portrait of the fiery sea.
Though, it’s not February,
love seeps through the air.