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A Portrait Of Grace

A Portrait Of Grace

Psyve

How in the hell do you get away with cluttering the forum with forty-some poems in a row? This is so discourteous to other poets. I'm disgusted. Jerryk.

0521200013.0528pm

squid ink stains novel / mirror phrase Calypso shark / pirate ship coins found.

Lines Are Being Formed

Voices
Choices
Heads in the street
Political
A revolution
Eyes with spots blackened stench
Riots
Black against white
Love is presented as lust in disguise
Inside we hide are true emotions
One may convey logic for fear
I shed a tear to numb the pain
New president
A wall
Yet where is the real voice
A challenge to be free is a question of time
Abortion
The saga continues

POCKET WATCH FROM A JUNK SHOP

It has neither heartbeat nor biology
With guts of silver serrated gears
And a face of ancient numerology
With two suspended golden spears
It has rested in the junk shop for years
And being what it is it knows no past
But is simply posing where it was last

Like carvings on a gravestone worn by ages
Its thin engravings are mostly faded
Rubbed out by the palms and thumbs
Of different men who could not image me
As I cannot imagine them whose lives are done

Loosing Someone That's Still Alive

Their are many wonders
Things that keep your thoughts
from going forward.

When you see someone with a gift
that is unknown.
They don't feel that they have
what people want.

What a waist
Everone has a gift
They just need some space.

God, awesome as he is,
will give you what it takes.

Loosing someone that is still alive
They need to know that God
will give you grace

Love Your Enemy

Love Your Enemy

Daffy Duck

Daffy Duck
has worst of luck
unlike his friend Bugs Bunny;
has fear of work
will always shirk
except in search for money.

I've Kept The Snow

So bare and clean
Like untouched canvas
Snow has been
When it first fell

And I've been guard
On my small patch
Although t'was hard
Throughout my spell

For I'd presumed
That others ,too
Had not resumed
Their daily trade

Should just maintain
The fallen snow
Should all remain
The way t'was made

Yet say the clock
Has made it's rounds
And say a rock
S'now dust at sea

I Think my Mom is Dying

I don't think this will be a poem,
just a dumping ground for some thoughts
since there's too much
family on Facebook
and the official "news"
hasn't yet been announced.

My mom's been taken to the hospital
probably five times
in the past year and a half,
always with coughing,
Pneumonia,
passing out,
heart failure.

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