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It’s the bird in meMad, mad Hoopoe BirdHardly flying, minding the burrowsPicking phrases like fat wormsSwallowing them wholeI wonder if a lightn..
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From a recent prose poetry prompt at a writers workshop
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I fumbled my way through the day, every dayCursing my hands of stoneWhen I don’t shake your handPlease don’t be offendedI am just saving y..
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Where you were concerned, I floatedTreading in shoes made of marshmallow and dryer lintHolding taught my own shadowNot wanting to add to the weight of..
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Caution doesn't pay the billsYou tell me to hold fast, wait and seeNot to let my emotions "steal the show"Truth is a better breakfast than a dinnerLet..
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Wisteria, hysteria, hypertension, sexI was genetically coded abstractlyYet my intentions and longing are much the same as yours and a lionsIn the even..
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What about this Q?
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If my moral compass is sprung,
you say it is,
then what I see when I look at you
is not true North, as it once had been.
If the path tha..
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He looked over the drop, dead, pan,
fried
Knowing she wasn't his, hunt,
lion, pride
Losing to love is not losing
Losing to love is only los..
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Expressing something that means something, requires a hammer, more so than a pen or a talent for kinesthetic storytelling. Chipping with murderous aba..
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