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hold the ache
in slim fingers
like a swimmer
streaming arcs
the brittle surf
the bird lark caught
in the net of clouds

these sandy shoals
of bitter lacerations
racing reason
tracing rhymne

and the forest sighs
while the eye of moon
shutters through the
dark limbed limbo

and in the kelp

the great swaying forest
you bury your treasure
my wayward heart
Its yours forever
till the years grow dark

Editing stage: 


far far from the ocean
and the Great Lake stone shores
but I feel them
these storm seasons
are talking

miss you........

author comment

how completely beautiful

your turns of phrase are captivating
in their imagery

there's a sweet ache in these words
and it echoes in the conch shell held
to lips...a call to the wolf wilds

your m

I loved their work Monet Manet and the others of their time
I mean I loved Caravaggio but to be brave enough to
craft the huge canvasses of light from pure colour
the simplicity of that move from the realism of light and
shadow Much like the bursting of the Beat Poet in
their days the heady industrialization and expansion
of americas last frontiers after the war machines wheels
begun to slow I dont know I love painters I love poets
artists of all feilds that madness condensed and
carefully applied in an aperature of brilliance

I just love people who are creatively different
I dont think thats a crime to have a passion for them
it would be like loving a mermaid!!!

author comment

...that this was a very good effort! It read well, and had great imagery, to boot.
Well overall, nice effort.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

Thanks Docmaverick is slow and careful
put more thought in this one then most
Not the fringed jacket nostelgia or wild
haired imp some of my writes have been
Writing is effort I may say I can write
off the cuff but in the end when I put thought
before about them They become something
a bit more then the usual Perhaps much
like the Poet whom is undergoing the mid
life range change

nothing like the roan beneath one and the
horizon bathed in the last of today

author comment

and wash away the violence of years

how I love thee

author comment
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