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©2016 by Bev Flynn Poetry. Proudly created with


On days, my drive         feels incomplete partial, to the whole. I get... I'm made, of variations imperfections fake bravado masks, enrobed as words and needs… that come and go groundwork tries                           and soul

just because

her words, she thought were once translucent            but the more she thought of it they were not ever really free this is how she's always been manic... in a plan then SNAP one breath, a change of mind instant secret tears, and canceled livings cruel aboutface pause                        ... just because


Halftone essays, gradient some words... define as art. They range, of light they shadow-breathe to lie... beneath the heart


Parallel... is language in juncture, time and phrase when lives, adjoin in poetry yet gazes... self-contain. When higher selves... compose a multiverse to veer, towards the physical, they crave. Open hearts, then cross... upon the page

In the crease

Furrowed, in the infer translation... of the fate you seek ageless right there, hidden in the crease reveled... in a fragile word-release


Just below the surface affinities... have taken place in parallel, to winter's-dark then tenderly, a snow... relights the spark

Vertebra... and tangle

Grapple, in a dreamer's soul this holding cage inside all vertebra... and tangle. That pinned-on faith of Someday... coming sweet release, that once was planned ever-reconciled fantasy Can't you feel... it's vanishing? Make time to seize that dream

Sworn revisiting

Ever felt, an unpredicted reach? And in, that sworn revisiting ... you learn. A quickening, of comfort and constancy. Returning validation... to your words

Theatre, and phase

She'd been through states... of being performing, to her craft casting words... without a motive theatre, and phase. Turned inside... by scope, and want she learned to shield her heart until that urge, did fade

from the inside

Tonight... I'm keen a rolling-stone, as wind thrusts memories round my mind. Time, and over makes me bold, to let them come alive. Tonight... it's safe I'll face them, from the inside


Air, beneath a shell-ice I breathe... within the fold though          withdrawn I work, to phrase my candor. Encased with words ... I'm never alone


Phrasing, at window's edge romanced... by an orchid in snowfall #poetlife


Playdown, of a memory it's imprint... well-defined it's rawness blurs... with time. It's shadow, mates... at dark with the warfront, of my heart

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