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Crush of IntellectI've never seen you, Master of Song,
But reading your work-
It makes my heart long
To touch your face
As you whisper in my ear
Lessons I'd hold so dear
This crush is one of intellect-
As on you I often muse
And want to be with you
Though your body I feel no need to peruse.
I want to feel your depth,
Shower in your dreams,
I want to inspire you,
To make your muse sing.
Poet, you're the first
I've not known but still want to impress
I want to be your student
I swear I'd do my best
Master of Meter, God of Rhyme
Let me borrow some of your time
From you let me learn,
Let me see in your world
You make me feel
Like the worn out cliché
Of the little schoolgirl
Just allowed out to play.
Speak to me awhile
Tell me your fears.
In your poetry there's such life,
To drink in your thoughts,
Every need, every strife
This near need consumes me
As the search for a fount of youth
Consumed those before we.
Such sweet ambrosial nectar
Each of your works is to me.
I have a need to read more,
An urge to
What ever happened?This journal is near complete
And while these last pages deplete
I've been looking back, days now,
With my brow bent low o'er these pages
And I've noticed
I never finished many
For instance, what ever happened to "Shady ?"
Near whole pages crossed out
What were they meant to be about?
When did I stop numbering pages-
And exactly how many times can I rhyme that with "rages?"
So many poems written to a love once true
So many hopes, and so few new,
What ever happened to having a lifetime
Of pages to fill?
The first few are so soft at the edge,
The books falling apart from the sine
It's been repaired again and again
This journal green, covered with leaves and vine
And on the front, a gold ribbon with sheen
Once it had beads, I remember that
Though they fell off, long, long ago.
The ribbon was cut with my very first knife
But I love this book, had it much of my life
So there's a duct tape bandage to fix the wound.
School librarian taped the spine
And glued the inside, where sections wa
writers blockI want to write,
To have that feeling,
But it's putting up a fight
What's a more peaceful sound
Than pencil on paper
While the Muse is around?
She's sleeping often, these days
Makes me wonder which of us lost our way.
Have I just not listened?
Have I just not learned?
This talent is still being tuned
I'm not the best, I know that's true
So wake up Poetry, so we don't get blue,
Wake up, Poetry, so we can do what we do
Sometimes I wish you were physical,
But then if you were I'd strangle you.
Never kill you, just give you a scare
I mean, you promised you'd always be there.
No you didn't
You're not animate, you couldn't
You only speak through me
What's the matter, nothing to say?
Oh look, a poem,
Guess you did stay
Poets TreeI realize now, standing here
With all I've learned
I've nothing to fear.
Yes, times will get hard
But that does not mean
I'll give and take to the knife
For there are also times
I'll be so very glad,
So drunk on joy,
So content with life
It will be impossible
To remember even slight strife.
I have my family
And I've found true friends
I've discovered art,
And these aren't a trend.
And when I'm sad,
Or hurt, or lost,
I'll no longer think
It's some sort of cost.
My masks I will stow
And my true face
The world will know.
I've shaken off enough shackles
To learn there's not reason enough
To snarl and to bristle
At these vultures
Making and feeding on another ones woe
They see no more than I did-
A means of defense,
They do not know,
For they just haven't seen
Anothers approval won't mend a broken seam.
And I'll do what I can
To help them to see-
There's not only safety
In the Poets Tree.
This tree I've mentioned once before-
I know it well
At its roots my Self I'd store.
I hid in my art, i
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More