They Call her Peace #poetry #photography

poetry penned in moon dust

In my hand I held her

a fragrance that grows faint

she dipped into the sunshine

we insulted her with paint


In my hand I held her

not wanting to let her go

breezy calm like spring time

I wish they’d let her grow


In my hand I held her

though she damaged by the storm

the reds of hate assailed her

hopes and dreams were dashed and torn


In my hand I held her

she seems so out of reach

man  bent on world dominion

her name – they call her Peace

Kim’s prompt for Poet’s United / Verse First is Close to the Source. When I saw the little blossom on my rose bush (this am), I felt the need to write this for her. The bugs and deer rarely leave a bloom. The symbolism is strong for this little rose.

poets united

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An Entangled Cobweb Woven… – Dark Poetry

Poetic Depression - Melancholy for those who need it...

An entangled Cobweb Woven…

Each individual string provides

A crucial part of the sentiment

Maybe not manifest, perhaps not prominent

But surely fundamental

Unique in each way you can see

The way that you breath

It’s all that you feel

The course through your body

The core within me

Approbation of this inquiry

No abnegation or lingering apathy

It’s just right for you

It’s just right….

For me….




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