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Open Poetry #31
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Always Lisa
Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 133


0 posted 2004-04-05 04:21 PM



Show and Tell

Show him all those photos when I lived to write
Tell him how my sprite burned a bit too bright.
Show him words of plain and out of sort to some...
Death can be a need to make a person numb.

Tell him that the poet feels a bit too deep
Show him lines that lock in words for him to keep.
Tell him that my season was a passing thought.
Show him all my words that stood for depth I've fought.

Tell him that the spring gives birth and new days dawn
Show him how to love his life when I am gone.

Always Lisa,
copyright April 2004

© Copyright 2004 Always Lisa - All Rights Reserved
Nightshade
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Member Patricius
since 2001-08-31
Posts 13962
just out of reach
1 posted 2004-04-05 05:00 PM


Lisa, this is a very deep, and hurting write. At least it is to me. Why not show him all of this now? A few words speak volumes.
hugs, Chris

Grover
Senior Member
since 2004-01-27
Posts 1967
London, ON, Canada
2 posted 2004-04-05 07:28 PM


Excellent... keep writing, share your gift.
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
3 posted 2004-04-06 03:21 AM


terrific piece!
Kicking Kim
Member
since 2001-04-16
Posts 426
Cloud Cucko Land!
4 posted 2004-04-06 07:47 AM


WOW,
This is a very heartfelt piece.
Tell him as much as you can now,
because we never know when the
last tomorrow will come!!


^*~Kimberley~*^

"Theres no posession, just obsession and growing depression"

Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348
Florida
5 posted 2004-04-06 09:56 AM


Lisa~

Very nice.  I saw this as being written to a son...

But I also make stories up in my head about strangers...so I could be wrong..

Susan

"cast me gently into the morning, for the night has been unkind"
~Sarah McLachlan~

Dark Angel
Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

6 posted 2004-04-06 05:03 PM


Very nice indeed...Enjoyed.

Beauty of the world which is soon to perish has two edges, one of laughter and one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
(by Virginia Woolf)

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