Open Poetry #34 |
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Too Heavily Salted |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
My fever dries my tears Halfway down my cheek Playing on my fears I’ve grown old and weak Unwanted and discarded Wrinkled and red eyed Broke not to be restarted, Yet I might have tried. The crusty cheeks redden Dry lips chap and crack My soul begins to deaden Never to come back. Gloom |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Must I beg the night to stay, lend me dark that I might cry; for no one sees these tears but me, and yet I know not of the why. "My turn it is," oh, some would say, to explain away the vagaries of what's called fate, others, "due", and all I know, is it happened to me. But should I wake to a glorious sun, to hear bells toll and a bird that sings, then perhaps I'll view it differently, and chalk it up to "one of those things..." ~*~ Thank you for the inspiration, Sir... my mother, long gone, always called me her Pollyanna... and my father, who is also long gone, never questioned her nick-name for me at all... ![]() |
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Krawdad Member Elite
since 2001-01-03
Posts 2597 |
I always know where to come to silently commiserate. Thanks. |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
chuckling @ kraw but oh man, it must be the day to feel old... Joining the commiseration line here. I'd hug you all, but this danged arthritis... Oh what the heck? wince ![]() |
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Juju Member Elite
since 2003-12-29
Posts 3429In your dreams |
reminds me of me old poems. (: |
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