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Re: Two New Poems

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love them.....

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> Please be Patient

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> Please be patient.

> I have walked so many miles,

> so many journeys,

> yet while finding the world

> I never took the time

> to find myself.

>

> Now that life has given me

> time to sit and rest.

> Reflect,

> I look into the mirror

> and see a little child.

> One who never learned

> how to act

> or what to say.

> So many mistakes

> waiting to happen!

>

> Please be understanding,

> for the only language I know

> is poetry.

> So few also speak this

> and often it falls short,

> or gives impressions

> of reaching too far.

> I can paint rainbows with my words

> yet a face to face verbal hello

> is for me, very difficult.

> I become scared. Very scared.

>

> -More so now than ever.

> The first time I saw you,

> the light surrounding you

> was brighter and warmer

> than a thousand suns.

> A most radient

> auspicious wishing star

> which has fallen to Earth,

> and the universe blessed me

> by being allowed

> to see and recognize

> all that you represent.

>

> Please be aware.

> The cherished moments

> when we do talk.

> Timeless eternal moments.

> Everything becomes nonexistent

> except your words and smiles,

> and each time I open my mouth,

> I am praying ever so heavily

> that my spoken shaky words

> do not become stumbling blocks

> or non intentional disasters

> which could damage or destroy

> our crossed paths.

>

> Your name known to me;

> Such a splendid gift.

> I am humbled

> and I am speechless.

> Ah! yet another gift-

> speechles.

> For as long as I silently smile

> to you, and for you,

> no mistakes will be made.

> Even more reassurance

> that you are indeed

> the wishing star.

> All that I ask (is),

> please be patient.

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> ******

>

> A Picture Paintes / A Picture Covered

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>

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> The distance which seperates us;

> As I look at the glaring midday sun,

> you are becoming absorbed

> in the tranquility

> of the midnight moon.

> Yet, these are one in the same.

> Codependent. Coexistent,

> for if one suddenly fell, or waved goodbye,

> would not the other do the same?

> We are, have been painted

> by Heaven's paintbrush

> into the exact replicated scenereo

> of majestic mutual existence.

> Remove your tightly wrapped veils

> of fear and uncertainty.

> Trust in that the universe

> makes no mistakes,

> and pay attention to the clock

> breathing on the wall.

> The hour hand, at it's choosing,

> will swoop down on us

> like a hunter's falcon

> and carry us into death.

> Before it's too late,

> remove the veils

> so we may live.

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> -Randy

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> ---------------------------------

> Never miss a thing. Make your homepage.

>

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Randy <jqpublic_59@...> wrote: Ink Blots Knock knock. May I enter your world? I have nothing to offer except my heart's totalness, my soul, my every breath and my words. Yet putting you into words would crudely resemble kindergarten finger painting. Ink blots. Nothing more. For complimenta and poetry become you with no

effort. Gentle dewdrops on morning flowers. Confetti at a ticker tape parade. Things that simply are... Page after page. Book after book of unintelligible word splatters. Though, (no democratic voting necessary), they will be seen and understood by all as references to you. Beautiful and pure. *** Nothing More The curtain is drawn exposing the day. The wind howls. Cold. The dark skies smother all picnic laced hopes, and again slaps my face, eliminating my empty filled longing of "perhaps today"... The clouds churn preparing to vomit their drenching rain. I see this event, this life, lack of life as a manifested masterpiece of ugliness. Nothing more. Not knowing love, an unsurpassed unity of blissful sighs eternal, and greasy popcorn during movie rented evenings- Not knowing. Did my watch stop? Time's concept is lost. Is damnation a month of the year? I am numb, very numb and lost. All days are reruns of the ones before. Years before. Eons before. You see (speaking to love), I have never seen the starlit eyes that the world claims you have. Nor the sound of your voice. The caressing words, caressing touch. Never knowing you, it is impossible to find

me; So I am not and nothing more. Within my infinite mime box moment, I watch the roses outside committing hari kari with their own thorns. Their existance, their purpose was to be offerings when you were found. They have given up, and the few afraid of death have packed and caught a train. Nothing remains. No crickets playing seductive music with their back leg violins. No stars or full moon. Night is only the definition of darkness absolute. I breathe on the window pane and there is no fog. I look into the pond to see my reflection, but all thats there are fish washed onto land. Franticly gasping all in vane. I feel they were emanations of

my guardian angels, now dead also. Yet, here I stand, still alive I think, rolling around in my eternal riches of nothing more. -Randy Looking for last minute shopping deals? Find them fast with Search. Butterflies are free........ Carole

Looking for last minute shopping deals? Find them fast with Search.

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Dearest Randy,

Your words are so beautiful. The second poem is so visceral that I

could feel every word you wrote. Keep these poems coming to our

group because I know they are touching people in ways you might not

every realize.

Love and Light,

Carole

>

> Ink Blots

>

>

>

> Knock knock.

> May I enter your world?

> I have nothing to offer

> except my heart's totalness,

> my soul, my every breath

> and my words.

> Yet putting you into words

> would crudely resemble

> kindergarten finger painting.

> Ink blots.

> Nothing more.

> For complimenta and poetry

> become you with no effort.

> Gentle dewdrops on morning flowers.

> Confetti at a ticker tape parade.

> Things that simply are...

>

> Page after page.

> Book after book

> of unintelligible word splatters.

> Though,

> (no democratic voting necessary),

> they will be seen

> and understood by all

> as references to you.

> Beautiful and pure.

>

>

>

> ***

>

>

> Nothing More

>

>

>

> The curtain is drawn

> exposing the day.

> The wind howls. Cold.

> The dark skies smother

> all picnic laced hopes,

> and again slaps my face,

> eliminating my empty filled longing

> of " perhaps today " ...

> The clouds churn

> preparing to vomit

> their drenching rain.

> I see this event,

> this life, lack of life

> as a manifested masterpiece

> of ugliness. Nothing more.

> Not knowing love,

> an unsurpassed unity

> of blissful sighs eternal,

> and greasy popcorn

> during movie rented evenings-

> Not knowing.

> Did my watch stop?

> Time's concept is lost.

> Is damnation a month of the year?

> I am numb, very numb

> and lost.

> All days are reruns

> of the ones before.

> Years before.

> Eons before.

> You see (speaking to love),

> I have never seen the starlit eyes

> that the world claims you have.

> Nor the sound of your voice.

> The caressing words,

> caressing touch.

> Never knowing you,

> it is impossible to find me;

> So I am not and nothing more.

> Within my infinite

> mime box moment,

> I watch the roses outside

> committing hari kari

> with their own thorns.

> Their existance, their purpose

> was to be offerings

> when you were found.

> They have given up,

> and the few afraid of death

> have packed and caught a train.

> Nothing remains.

> No crickets playing seductive music

> with their back leg violins.

> No stars or full moon.

> Night is only the definition

> of darkness absolute.

> I breathe on the window pane

> and there is no fog.

> I look into the pond

> to see my reflection,

> but all thats there

> are fish washed onto land.

> Franticly gasping

> all in vane.

> I feel they were emanations

> of my guardian angels,

> now dead also.

> Yet, here I stand,

> still alive I think,

> rolling around

> in my eternal riches

> of nothing more.

>

>

>

> -Randy

>

>

> ---------------------------------

> Looking for last minute shopping deals? Find them fast with

Search.

>

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Share on other sites

Very beautiful !!!! Randy <jqpublic_59@...> wrote: Ink Blots Knock knock. May I enter your world? I have nothing to offer except my heart's totalness, my soul, my every breath and my words. Yet putting you into words would crudely resemble kindergarten finger painting. Ink blots. Nothing more. For complimenta and poetry become

you with no effort. Gentle dewdrops on morning flowers. Confetti at a ticker tape parade. Things that simply are... Page after page. Book after book of unintelligible word splatters. Though, (no democratic voting necessary), they will be seen and understood by all as references to you. Beautiful and pure. *** Nothing More The curtain is drawn exposing the day. The wind howls. Cold. The dark skies smother all picnic laced hopes, and again slaps my face, eliminating my empty filled longing of "perhaps today"... The clouds churn preparing to vomit their drenching rain. I see this event, this life, lack of life as a manifested masterpiece of ugliness. Nothing more. Not knowing love, an unsurpassed unity of blissful sighs eternal, and greasy popcorn during movie rented evenings- Not knowing. Did my watch stop? Time's concept is lost. Is damnation a month of the year? I am numb, very numb and lost. All days are reruns of the ones before. Years before. Eons before. You see (speaking to love), I have never seen the starlit eyes that the world claims you have. Nor the sound of your voice. The caressing words, caressing touch. Never knowing you, it is impossible to find

me; So I am not and nothing more. Within my infinite mime box moment, I watch the roses outside committing hari kari with their own thorns. Their existance, their purpose was to be offerings when you were found. They have given up, and the few afraid of death have packed and caught a train. Nothing remains. No crickets playing seductive music with their back leg violins. No stars or full moon. Night is only the definition of darkness absolute. I breathe on the window pane and there is no fog. I look into the pond to see my reflection, but all thats there are fish washed onto land. Franticly gasping all in vane. I feel they were emanations of

my guardian angels, now dead also. Yet, here I stand, still alive I think, rolling around in my eternal riches of nothing more. -Randy Looking for last minute shopping deals? Find them fast with Search. Anastasia

Never miss a thing. Make your homepage.

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Dear Randy,

As I am sure you have heard me and the many great members of

our family/group say, your work is incredible! The poems are polar

opposites for lack of better way to describe your words without

taking away from their beauty and yet so inticately woven to capture

my attention with each and every word typed. I was literally after

reading " Nothing More " blown away by your descriptions and agreeing

silently in my head with the many ways you described feelings I

myself have felt. As always, brother, your talent is truly a gift!!

I truly cannot wait to see what you have to write next. It seems the

words do pour out of you and I thank you for sharing these beautiful

works with us! Om mani padme hum and love and light, Luna

>

> Ink Blots

>

>

>

> Knock knock.

> May I enter your world?

> I have nothing to offer

> except my heart's totalness,

> my soul, my every breath

> and my words.

> Yet putting you into words

> would crudely resemble

> kindergarten finger painting.

> Ink blots.

> Nothing more.

> For complimenta and poetry

> become you with no effort.

> Gentle dewdrops on morning flowers.

> Confetti at a ticker tape parade.

> Things that simply are...

>

> Page after page.

> Book after book

> of unintelligible word splatters.

> Though,

> (no democratic voting necessary),

> they will be seen

> and understood by all

> as references to you.

> Beautiful and pure.

>

>

>

> ***

>

>

> Nothing More

>

>

>

> The curtain is drawn

> exposing the day.

> The wind howls. Cold.

> The dark skies smother

> all picnic laced hopes,

> and again slaps my face,

> eliminating my empty filled longing

> of " perhaps today " ...

> The clouds churn

> preparing to vomit

> their drenching rain.

> I see this event,

> this life, lack of life

> as a manifested masterpiece

> of ugliness. Nothing more.

> Not knowing love,

> an unsurpassed unity

> of blissful sighs eternal,

> and greasy popcorn

> during movie rented evenings-

> Not knowing.

> Did my watch stop?

> Time's concept is lost.

> Is damnation a month of the year?

> I am numb, very numb

> and lost.

> All days are reruns

> of the ones before.

> Years before.

> Eons before.

> You see (speaking to love),

> I have never seen the starlit eyes

> that the world claims you have.

> Nor the sound of your voice.

> The caressing words,

> caressing touch.

> Never knowing you,

> it is impossible to find me;

> So I am not and nothing more.

> Within my infinite

> mime box moment,

> I watch the roses outside

> committing hari kari

> with their own thorns.

> Their existance, their purpose

> was to be offerings

> when you were found.

> They have given up,

> and the few afraid of death

> have packed and caught a train.

> Nothing remains.

> No crickets playing seductive music

> with their back leg violins.

> No stars or full moon.

> Night is only the definition

> of darkness absolute.

> I breathe on the window pane

> and there is no fog.

> I look into the pond

> to see my reflection,

> but all thats there

> are fish washed onto land.

> Franticly gasping

> all in vane.

> I feel they were emanations

> of my guardian angels,

> now dead also.

> Yet, here I stand,

> still alive I think,

> rolling around

> in my eternal riches

> of nothing more.

>

>

>

> -Randy

>

>

> ---------------------------------

> Looking for last minute shopping deals? Find them fast with

Search.

>

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