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    poetry


    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:59:32

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    The hollies are dotted
    with their annual seeds

    of fire. Those bits of exploded hearts
    that seem fallen from the sky

    to cling to them. Those berries
    are so red. They remind me

    of the hearts we used to draw
    in grade school. There are so few

    places I find that color in its
    natural state, so when it comes,

    it arrests my eye quicker
    than a master’s art. This

    is the natural state of things.
    All year the labor and I come

    to this. Same place where
    I have worked to forget you

    and here you are—still
    these tiny jeweled bits

    of life shining through a wall
    of monotonous green. And I

    can’t stop looking back

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:59:14

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:55:05

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    The hollies are dotted
    with their annual seeds

    of fire. Those bits of exploded
    hearts that seem fallen from the sky

    to cling to them. Those berries
    are so red. They remind me

    of the hearts we used to draw
    in grade school. There are

    so few places I find that color
    in its natural state, so when it comes,

    it arrests my eye quicker
    than a master’s art. This

    is the natural state of things.
    All year the labor and I come

    to this again. Same place where
    I have worked to forget you

    and here you are—still
    those tiny jeweled bits

    of life shining through a wall
    of monotonous green. And I

    can’t stop looking back

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:54:57

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    The hollies are dotted
    with their annual seeds

    of fire. The bits of exploded hearts
    that have fallen from the sky and

    clung to them. Those berries
    are so red. They remind me

    of the hearts we used to draw
    in grade school. There are so few

    places you can find that color
    in its natural state, so it comes

    it arrests the eye quicker
    than a master’s art. This

    is the natural state of things.
    All year the labor and we come

    to this. Same place where I
    have worked to forget you

    and here you are—still
    these tiny jeweled bits

    of life shining through a wall
    of monotonous green. And I

    can’t stop looking back

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:50:57

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    The hollies are dotted
    with their annual seeds of fire.
    The bits of exploded hearts
    that have fallen from the sky
    and clung to them. Those berries

    are so red. They remind me
    of the hearts we used to draw
    in grade school. There are      so few
    places you can find that color

    in its natural state, so it comes
    it arrests the eye quicker than a master’s art. This is the natural state of things. All year the labor and we come to this. Same place where I have worked to forget you and there you are—tiny jeweled bits of life shining through a wall of monotonous green.

    ...Created 2018-12-07 07:45:51

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2018-12-06 23:14:25

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2018-12-06 23:02:11

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    It may be the grace of a pirouette,
    the whimsical life of music that must speak
    without words, or even the novelty

    of a world that teeters so neatly
    on the presence of so few
    men. I’m not sure when it started, my love

    for the ballerina’s curved silence,
    but that love has never left me. And
    today, when I was thumbing through

    my memory, it was the many nights
    I dreamt of the distant boy, the one
    who in shadow is only blonde hair

    and dark trousers, where it all began.
    But of course that wasn’t it, because
    I only saw the boy because I already loved

    the dance, and in loving the dance, fell
    before it in a room filled to the heart
    with the language of movement.

    And that dancer, he was just about my age,
    and he was so far from where I was
    sitting I could only make out the shape

    of his grace. How it marked me
    for months, how the closed symphony
    of who he was followed me

    like an unnamed tune on
    into the other days
    of my Rachmonioff life

    ...Created 2018-12-06 22:57:20

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    untitled written by MyPeriodical
    That Kind of Love Never Brought Me Flowers written by Jazzy
    Tired Vine written by MyPeriodical
    I am a sorry son. Part two written by MyPeriodical
    written by Daniel Barlow
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Survive ed - right back at the beginning written by MyPeriodical
    Giant written by MyPeriodical
    Broken Promises written by S.A.M.
    Scared written by MyPeriodical
    Gone written by MyPeriodical
    Where is My Ghost written by ForgottenGraves
    written by Daniel Barlow
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Remedies written by MyPeriodical
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Release written by robbie
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Leyenda de Un Maldito Cobarde written by MyPeriodical
    written by Daniel Barlow
    I am still sorry. written by MyPeriodical
    To Be written by MyPeriodical
    One day older, One year wiser. written by Rhythmal
    Instances written by hyproglo
    written by Daniel Barlow
    The First Time written by Wolfwatching
    Sanctimony written by MyPeriodical
    Silly Rulers. written by MyPeriodical
    written by Daniel Barlow
    untitled written by MyPeriodical

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    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems
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