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In Memory of Tim

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Oh
Precious life
How fleeting you are.
You give everyone
Some number
Of minutes

No one knows
How many they have
Until they’re spent
And no treasure
Can buy one
More.


Scraping space

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Rumble, thunder, tremble, fire
Lift off, reaching skyward
And breaking into the blue
Breaking free from the green
Scraping space

Float, tumble, turn, fall
Drop down, aiming groundward
And leaving the blue
Shaking hands with the green
Coming home


Some days are

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Some days are shiny
Some days are rainy
Some days are bright
Some days are glum.

Some people are shiny
Some people are rainy
Some people are bright
Some people are glum.


My tears

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Drip, Drip
The rain won’t let up
Drip, Drip
It’s making it really hard
Drip, Drip
For the world to see my tears.


Awakening the world

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Swirling mist of black tea,
Bergamot,
And a hint of vanilla
Drifting lazily
Around the rim of my cup.

Stir in some honey,
Cream,
And a hope for the day
Sipping lazily
Awakening the world around me.


The shade

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After the sun
Gets mostly across
The sky

The shadows creep
And overtake
The flowerbed

And I soak
The shade.


What you see

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What’s in a poem?
When you don’t have the time
To make up a rhyme?
Or count your meter
To look more complete’er?

When your stanzas
Are disheveled and unequal?

And your lines
Are
Variegated and
Bouncy?

What’s in a poem
When it acts like life
And is un
pre
dic
ta
ble?

Makes no difference to me
Because what you get

Is

What you see


Gone away

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Gray day,
Hazy day,
Sun, sun, sun’s
Gone away.

Windy day,
Chilly day,
Fun, fun, fun’s
Gone away.

Cloudy day,
Sad day,
Love, love, love’s
Gone away.


Find a smile

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Sun’s up and ready to shine,
Time to get up and use this time
To make a new day
And make a new way
To find a smile


Morning Tea

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Stir, stir, stir
Pa-ting, pa-ting, pa-ting
The sound of tea coming together
In time to sit outside
And watch the world come to life
Is my morning symphony.

Toby

Wordsmith, taking raw words and spaces and working them into unique works of art.

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