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    Then walk on …

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    This Garden...

    This Garden Lilacs in odor, to recall the perfumeof maiden's amore, in her casting roomVelvet and violet, tender but todayfor each casts its memory away. Roses thick, with pink and blush-a just kissed cheek, the stolen rushWhen courage meant to quickly stealthis budding flower, and grant it, real. Tulips tipping, to the dew, please satethis thirst begins, if passion wanesAnd drunkards, we, crushing vinessucking our fingers, of green-grape wines. It's a natural thing for meThis garden, I grow for thee. And all encompassed, by a forested gateto frustrate all, that dare penetrateHidden, but very proudly, minethat reaps, that grows, that shines. And to toil tirelessly, just to comparethis golden evening, and your raven hairThis soil I turn; A bed tucked inrecalling how your arms held me then. These blooms that lift their hopes to the sunjust like I did, once we were oneAnd upon your chest, in red, blushedare pink roses, two, both full-flushed. How I clamored, over sudden flowersfrom sun to moon, became fertile hoursTo think I'd ever walk away, this fieldthis earth, this Eden, this ever-real. A tulip, one, and the dew satisfieda craving far greater, so intensifiedIt held its head up and spoke of Springand how sudden it comes, once winter flees. And in this forest, prepared to standthis stead garden, this fertile landI prepare the fruits, of thy hunger's needto fill the basket, with resulting seed. It's a natural thing for meThis garden, I grow for thee. ~~~

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    • hello dearest Styxian this is very beautiful, sensual and romantic…I have a garden dream to I always picture wisdom is there walking through the garden having philospohical conversations with Eve it is a curious thing… this is beautifully written and your metaphors are just right to evoke deep feeling ❤️

    • Hey Crims! I’ve edited this one so many times, trying to get the rhymes and meter tight. I’m not much into this type anymore, but it’s good practice for my ol’ brain. LOL
      Thanks for letting me know that the effort paid off!

    • I love this. The rhyming is sooo good!
      Dare I say perfect, yes I think I will.
      I think about your back yard and all the hibiscus 🌺 back there.
      This isn’t too far fetched 🙂

      Love it and you!

      • Well my love, no flower compares to you!
        Don’t forget the monster bougainvillea! (yes, i had to look up that spelling, LOL). It’s taking over the yard! Wanna come play gardener with me?

    • Beautifully penned, Mark. A very passionate write indeed my friend. Excellent work as always. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • Hello Sir Damian!
        I don’t write many rhyme/meter poems much. It’s hard for me to get deep into my feels if I do. Freestyle is my obvious choice, because I can detail them better. But any rate, I do attempt to test some creative builds like this from time to time. And no, no AI assist either. (Seems many do lean on AI nowadays).
        Anyway, thanks dude. I enjoy your dropping by’s !

    • Look at you going all rhymey! This is so lovely, well done.
      ❤️k

      • Hey you!
        This was a major task to write! And several edits to get it to where I’m satisfied with it. I’m proud of it for the effort verses the result it took. So when I get any acknowledgement for it, I can breathe a sigh of relief! Thank you!

    • This has such a ye olde sonnet vibe to it. It flows and builds great imagery. Trying to write in a rhyming fashion fractures my brain. Well done!

    • Trust me, it wrecked my brain big time! I hacked at it quite alot. I actually had some more “ye olde sonnet” type words in it, but took them out because I didn’t want it to seem pretentious. If that makes sense. I also doubt that I can ever write one quite as solid as this one, as far as the build of it. again. Maybe if I break out the old pencil and paper, so I can erase a hundred times. LOL. (I still write on paper sometimes, because it holds a unique touch to me.
      Good to see you Willow. Hope you are well and enjoying life!

    • I’m not used to seeing rhymes from you so this was a pleasant surprise. Your poems are always a pleasure to read. Great job here, this to me is a dedication poem and one well written.

    • Hello Tim. I started out as a rhyming kid. LOL. But as I got older and read more contemporary material, it changed my preferences. It was more in tune with my “feelings”.
      But, I have a few attempts here and there, to stay mentally sharp I suppose. So I appreciate the nod for my result. these ain’t easy for me. If for anyone.

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    Willow wrote a new post

    Ink Therapy

    I trap memories in versescribbling in my sleepetching them so deeply...they become permanent marksfading slowly over time...leaving beautiful scars it's a medication...needed to survive{pre}scribed for internal healingit comes with no deadening propertiesno sedatives...but it's my personal narcotic I won't deny the...

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    • I second this addiction. I feel lost and unfocused if I do not write.

    • I third this addiction.

      I love the written word..mine and others.

      Great write,right,rite,wright….lol

    • Very relatable Willow. Thank you for sharing 💕

    • Brilliantly penned, Willow. Into the book it belongs! Infectious vibe your words and the musical arrangement my friend. It’s the one addiction that I feed and I refuse to kick. You summed it up well as you always do. Loved this one Willow. Excellent work. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • I think this addiction is more healing than harming. It’s how we clear headspace and reset. About whatever is naggin’ the noggin. I knew you would feel this one too. Thank you, my friend

    • You express perfectly what most of us here feel, dear Willow! It’s the same with me – I scream, weep, bleed and laugh my soul onto the paper.

    • It’s horrific, that ‘silent scream’, the self-reflection not seen in the mirror, the expression held inside. I hear your pen, Willow. It’s LOUD!!! But I welcome it. Let the ink flow, make Rorschach’s of rage across the page. Just know, you are seen!

      Curt

    • Brilliant work.

    • I don’t run the pen. It runs me, girl. As Shrek said…Better out than in. Excise the wounds so they can heal clean. Thank you, girl. You wield a mighty pen yourself

    • Thank you, Thomas

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    Avalanche

    truth is...I don't sleep these daysI stare at the insides of my eyelidssilently screamingthere are holeswhere joy should livebefore it pulled up stakesand retreatedsomewhere...I can no longer see itand the darkness...is thick with remembranceheavy with dreadnot wanting to crawl...

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    • I feel this. Know that you are not alone feeling this way. the statement of “I am tired” cut deep. At one point the feeling of it all and feeling that no one gave a damn was so much…let’s just say I would not be here if I did not have someone. We all do not have that “touch stone” person. I do understand.

    • Absolutely gobsmackingly brilliant,powerful,honest,scary and sad.
      When I read this, the only question. I had was why?Why does one keep holding on when there is nothing left to hold on to?
      Why,if God exists,would he torture his children?

      Why are we even alive?

      Take care my friend.The tide can turn quickly and bring you back to shore.🙏

    • Tired,, but alive, broken, but the pieces are all there, they fit together, like the way rain brings flowers. Our tears fill the oceans where all life began. And our scars (whether visible or unseen) become the instruments of our music and can be heard in the cosmos. Willow, your poem resonates like violin strings, hauntingly and with grace. Not sure if you see or feel it, but you give us all the strength to continue, to disturb the universe, like pebbles thrown in the pond, creating ripples that go on forever.

      I do not know you, Willow, and have only read a few of your poems, but I am happy you are here.

      Curt

    • Powerfully penned, Willow. The armor does get thinner with time I think it’s part of facing mortality. At least that’s part of it anyways. There are layers as I always say, but it’s tiring indeed. Time catches all of us eventually, but our scars lend to wisdom, even those earned by trial and error. That’s what popped in my head anyways. Excellent write my friend, I can relate. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • Some days the scars weigh more heavily than the wisdom. But it’s there, resting, I think. Thank you for the reminder, my friend

    • You nailed it. Fantastic work. It’s hell to get old.

    • This is the first piece of yours I have read, but HER suggested you for membership in our new Spoken Word group. I took her at her word, and though I have not heard any audios by you yet, I wanted to take a peek at just some of your words first. If you have audios, I certainly want to hear them, on the strength of the words you have left here, not what someone has told me. This is brilliant work, Willow, tough, strong, gut-wrenching, sad; it touches all the emotions and pulls the reader in. I will read more, and I want to hear what your work SOUNDS like.

      • It sounds like emotion unfiltered, I imagine. Still new to me. Hopefully you’ll find it interesting. Thank you

        • What I have heard is amazzzzing.

            • I had to listen and read again. This is so kickass. And I had to come back to confess: I have been there, Willow. Spent months with other versions of me in that cold, white setting, surrounded by so many suffering with me there, with only ourselves and our pain for company. This piece brought all of that back … so many years ago, … so many miles since then. Thank you for this.

              • Yeah, it has serious weight. I try not to let it sit too long but it will have its say

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