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In the darkness safe and true
trapped in the shadows
below the thick mountain dew
the sparks of lighting ran through the cloud
with the tremmers of clashing giants being so loud
my eyes shuttered; watching as they fought
sinking into the mattress so that I won't get caught
drifting away to something so unreal
something even more enchanting and surreal
A honey-dewed glaze covered my eyes
......
Geboren im Licht,
wenn die Welt still atmet
und die Zeit langsamer geht.
Ein Blick nach innen reicht,
um Wunder zu sehen,
die andere übersehen.
Nicht laut,
aber da,
......
I used to hold her hand at night
Roll over in bed and take her hand in mine and think "This is love - it must be because I want to hold her hand while she sleeps"
In the evening or at night she would tell me about things that stabbed her and made her hard or even mean and I would cry inside but think "This is love - it must be because my heart breaks for her while she speaks"
One night, I was far away
And I was the one that had been stabbed and wanted to talk to her before I became hard and mean
It was too late
She was bloody gristle with nothing to offer
Not even a kind word
......
You are but one of many, who seek to see the dream,
Chasing the unknown, pressured by your own self esteem,
You are bound by nature, the rules wider than the seas,
An un-caged bird wanting to be set free,
Those stars that you can't count, and those you wish to be,
Those years that you look back, wondering "Oh, what might've been"
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Geboren im Licht,
wenn die Welt still atmet
und die Zeit langsamer geht.
Ein Blick nach innen reicht,
um Wunder zu sehen,
die andere übersehen.
Nicht laut,
aber da,
......
A bee chases a butterfly
Flapping her frail white wings
Flys avidly unto the lea
Sprightly swirls in subtle swings
A bee chases a butterfly
A leaf plunges off a tree
Long thin grasses stretch to extreme
Reach out to seize glare's glee
......
These are poems for poets and poems about poets. Also, poems about the art and craft of writing poetry...
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch
(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine poet in his own right)
......
I see the sun run over the sea, later set
Below the horizon of Bay of Bengal, every evening
And the sea I see threat
The boys and girls, and sing
Whimsically, 'O, I'm now giant, be alert';
So they go apart.
I see the sun run over the meadow, later hide
Behind the trees of beautiful Bengal, every evening
And the meadow I see bid
......