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Poetry Please start one thread for your own poetry and just add to it! |
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05-26-2010, 04:45 PM | #1 |
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Magic_and_SIlk~~From My Secret Garden
From the time I was very young, when I would get upset or encounter something that made me sad, or when I would have to endure things that made me cry or when my heart was broken, I have had this place inside that I could go. This place was not a place that, at first, was accessible to anyone else. It is a place within my heart and soul, where I could go to heal myself or to hide from the things that would hurt me so I could get my bearings and deal with those things in more healthy ways.
This place is what I called 'My Secret Garden'. It is the place where my muse lives. It is the place that I go when I need complete solitude. I can shut the gate behind me and lock it, so no one can follow. Or I can just stand on the threshold and gaze at the Witseria and Poppies that grow there. Now, when I wish to let someone in, all I have to do is present a work of art or a poem or prose. These things are small parts of myself, tiny parts of my soul. They are steps in my Journey. Writing them helps me see inside myself. And sometimes, I feel like they are good enough to show to others. Maybe someone else feels the same and can take some comfort in knowing that they are not alone in this world, no matter how lonely it feels. DIAGNOSIS
Standing on the asphalt plain- Jagged edged, Full of resentment. It mourns for the smoothness of Youth. Under my feet, a protest. No lips to form words ~yet, biting. Darkness descends, Silence ruptures me ~my hands. I rend the air with an endless keening that empties my soul. Lightning strikes me. I wait for the rain to fill it up once more ....to wash it away; that blackened plain. Hold tightly; I attempt to keep my world from flying apart like shattered glass. COPYRIGHT S.J.Sexton
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05-27-2010, 03:52 PM | #2 |
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~~PROCESS~~
Hues of such longing, ~Pigments of pain, Brush held as gently added the stain. This blankness before me on fluttering wing. I touch you with magic and lace up the string. Placing before you undefinable grace, You lift me in dream; leave not a trace Resonation in bone ~vibration of soul, Inclination to Astral ~Half into whole. Imagine a spark beneath silk of Sea. The stars light the eye ~moon into me. Brush to the canvas ~laughter of two. Conscious of wonder, of me into you. Copyright- S.J.Sexton 2010
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My joy in life comes from the Journey. |
06-01-2010, 02:07 PM | #3 |
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GRAY DAY
**~GRAY DAY~**
Muted light Mutating my thoughts. The dead things bend; Stiff as a brick --in the wind. This body's curves --echoed again and again..... Undulating on the horizon --a reflection of sky on the ground. Insanity peeks in --as the monochromatic scheme Bursts its vein --and another blossoms in liquid form that matches the horizon --and the undulation of my body In it's gray pain.... Indistinguishable from the sky -----from the earth -----from the sea... .............I disappear............. COPYRIGHT S.J. SEXTON 3/28/06
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My joy in life comes from the Journey. |
06-13-2010, 10:47 AM | #4 |
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Safe Inside The Storm
Safe Inside The Storm There is a storm rolling in and the wind is blowing. It sinks into my soul. The Winged Ones careening, Thrown about as leaves ..........Swift as arrows. Eyes closed, I send myself to you-- My essence on the Tempest ..........Thunder rumbles distantly carrying the promise of your return. This longing overflows as rain drums down, each drop as forlorn as I. --The sighing song of Storm, broken by rumbling punctuations mirrors my voice. ~I long for you, my Love. ............The ache of my wish, The passion burning constantly within- Like a flame. This storm covered you as day grew old and at the eve, brings your caress with the quenching rain; ~The Power of Wind ~The blinding flash in the roar of thunder ...........I lay back and I feel you cover me inside the storm. Copyright S.J. Sexton 2005
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My joy in life comes from the Journey. |
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