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Given the choice
I'd actually prefer to do what's right,
but that's not afforded to everyone.

Some must do what they have to do
despite the repercussions,
and the embarrassment of egos.

Then, there are some whom do whatever
strikes their "fancy", at any given moment;
as is the case of my dark-eyed, beauty rare; mystically named, Oria.

She alone can wander into a space inside my heart,
where others have trod, and made it seem so very "pedestrian"
and, can turn it into a favorite memory that's yet to happen !

There have even been times where Oria
has caused feelings of inclinations, and urges
so deeply, that I've almost lost my bearings;

which beats losing my marbles, I would venture to guess.
Yet, there are reasons for all things, Oria.
Even an inept, nonsensical entity can see that !

We've all received our assorted clues
throughout our lives, and histories.
I've even seen inside all of your burdenous basements !

A place where everything echos of the lonely night,
and where stands, many of the fallen;
the unfortunate victims of other's expectations.

Which has left a giant chasm where the old soul of Oria used to dance.
Back when I saw into her,
at a time when she could never, even fathom.

Remarkably, hers is a heart that withers not
in the dry, and windy desert's dire extremes;
for she can genuinely find solace in desolation.

Because, that is where the echos of her heart lie
and the opaqueness of it's vacancy feels like home,
where all of her personal reasons keep hiding in wait.

I enjoy sometimes being in her wake
as Oria surveys some of her abandoned pathways,
for there is nothing pedestrian about her footsteps.

She's statuesque, without seeming regal;
adaptable, without ever having to concede;
and capable, with a spirit that whispers to me.

Because, I've glimpsed inside, past her dark-eyed beauty;
and into the sunshine that is in her heart,
which allows enough light to make the evening magical;

a trait that cannot e'er be learned.
Because, it is actually a way of life, if you will;
and Oria is the only one, that knows the way back, without even looking.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
An exercise in futility.....really. Merely trying to capture someone's beautiful essence, with words. An extremely difficult task, when trying to describe my young friend, Victoria.
Editing stage: 


I think your poem is beautifully and skillfully written! I especially enjoyed these lines:

She alone can wander into a space inside my heart,
where others have trod, and made it seem so very "pedestrian"
and, can turn it into a favorite memory that's yet to happen !

always, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:

...I don't think I'd have any "feedback"! This was written about someone, so it made more sense than some of my others.
Thanx, again dear Cat;

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

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