There’s No Poetry Left

 

The moon’s illumination in the dead of the night

A hauntingly peaceful sight

Dimming light, flickered one last time

The stars are falling from the sky

Disappearing as quickly as they appeared

The sun’s bright light masks the stars

Fooling those who sleep through the night

A poet’s soul, just like the stars

Is buried deep and lost in space

 

 

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Bewitched

 

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A barren vase set on a table

Transparent to the naked eye

To one, what you see is what it is

…simply an empty vase

To another it is a symbol

Something is missing

Fill the vase with flowers

This will change its perception

Fill the vase with the wrong flowers; change interpretation

Unaware of the signs, one moves forward

Reading too deeply, another tries to stay strong

Battling the conscience between right and wrong

Forsaken flowers wither in a lucid vase

Threading dispassion into lace

The universe seems solid to the unwitting mind

 

 

 

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Chasing the White Rabbit

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Down the rabbit hole she falls

Twirling down the windy halls

With a thud she hits the ground

She can’t help to think as she looks around

“This must be what Alice sees”

A taunting grin floating in the trees

Cryptic riddles drift through the breeze

Clumsy curiosity draws her in closer

She leans in for the eerie purr

“Fear the queen, she’ll have your head

Never be caught with your hands red

Paint those roses to cover your mistakes

But you surely will not disguise the fake”

Tempting tea at the party

The Mad Hatter eagerly awaits as she takes a sip

Better judgement gone in a zip

Run, run, the queen is on her way!

Run, run, do not stay!

There he is, that quick white rabbit

Never understanding why she chased this habit

 

 

 

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