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ground... in truth

Living plain ...yet craving flight I long to chase, in imitation. Simulation status: I'm ground... in truth and that's what matters

cache

Which way, taunts my cache of words... tonight abundance, or deficiency. They manifest, then opt... for reason abstract, by degrees

Flecks, of Twenty-six

Flecks, of Twenty-six your poetry... your creed drafting verse, interior it resonates... of life like thunder, to the cloud. Outside, in the streets your letters... burn in sound

you're heard

Words of virtue whited-bearing settle... like a poem. I feel your caution at my pane sweet visitant... of ode my soul, is well aware you're heard... within a snow

Flecks, of Twenty-six

Flecks, of Twenty-six your poetry... your creed drafting verse, interior it resonates... of life like thunder, to the cloud. Outside, in the streets your letters... burn in sound

tread

Poet... treading water mulling, on this fragile game (of life). Waiting on a happenstance... while tossing coins (on ice). Poet streetlife. Today's miles of morning musing, after receiving my next to last radiation treatment. 👊👊👊 Thoughts sift, and blur... just out of understanding. Just out of focus. Three intense months of slippery soil, emotional baggage... along with the whitest light of faith, hope, and grace, illuminating my days. I'm excited to continue forward, giving these raw surges, insecurities and fears... up to a higher power, and contour on through this life. And oh, what a gift, this second chance at fate, given to a grateful mortal... such as me.

cedar-scented

Within the vale, of forestsome of us... are in a knowing. Hungered after words, are cedar-scented we wait for love ...to be invented

Payment

Rise and fall descent, into a field, of solace a mending... of a soul is payment, for the sinner. Bonfires, lit from past emotion chilled by judgment... of a winter

shatter... on a pane

Teardrop, to a landing place it's shatter... on a pane tamped-down words, that once, expressed                         ...a chance. You feel, that time now seeks it's refuge, separate, from your soul the burn... of vulnerable

offstage

A Poet leads... by shadow a standby, of a different fate the maker, of affection with methods... to confide. An understudy dreamer in rhythms, whispered intimate... to name situated privately, offstage

The burn... of vulnerable

These are days of rays, racing thoughts... and disconnected words. Robes of white, smiles brave, and laying prone, in prayer. Press repeat, then count the beeps... upon a morning breastboard. Day 12 of radiation treatments... my spirit in a mixture. My physical... is adapting well. My mind... is feeling somewhat off, separated, from my soul. The burn... of vulnerable. I'm physically feeling strong, and holding onto faith and gratitude, that this cancer is showing me how to know amazement... in the little things. Cliches, yes... but within that, a truth. How my timing, has changed. I'm slower... behind the world. My tasks are but a millisecond off the pace... of my surroundings. I'm on my

word machine

Hooded, in a veil of dull I want to write... original opened, from my limits to hack this word machine. I spit, into the hat that once was worn ...by every poet. Tipping notions, by degrees to seek, a metamorphosis... in me

a come to

we all desire a tint... of fate a shuffling, of our colors inside, a prophecy a maximum... a come to a grandeur point, in time to always be, remembered that fantasy... devised a kiss of immortality... defined #poembehindthesun #poetryhub #wordtouch #poetrysavedme #igpoetry #poetryhub #wordtouch #words #wordsinthenight #wordsoflight #poems #poetrysavedme #igpoetry #poetryhub #feel #igpoetry #igwriters #igpoet #wordmotifsandwaterlines #bevflynn0331 #newbookunveiling #bevflynnpoetry

invasions

Wildfire invasions when sugar-snow emotions burn... without a whisper spoke. We're all just prophets ashes words compounded... in the smoke

tines

Threads of tines as patience... winds like fingertips, to snow. They represent this weight, of fire lain underside... my soul

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