I sat down this morning with no idea what to write. After exploring the recesses of this brain, three tiny poems need released. By the time I write those, I will have two more bubbling about. So happy Friday 🙂 I hope you like tiny poems!
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What if anger was a ball we held
in the palm of our hand
and could set on a shelf
then walk away?
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Long, scalding-hot shower to wash off the day
Soft, fleecy pajamas on a cold-rain night
Eight hours of dream-dotted sleep
A crackling yellow fire against early morning darkness
I have returned to myself.
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What if time
is not a line or a circle
but a helix?
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Are you the person you think you are?
Or the person you’ve always been told you are?
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Death does not change the dead,
it transforms the living.
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Maybe those last three are less poem and more thoughts, but how do you think a poem begins? Have a wonderful Friday, friends.
Beth
great little poems and I’m always amazed how words just somehow bubble up
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