Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Disorganized Thoughts

 Life is chapters, 

some of us have a few more than others. 


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... and to think I use to like rollercoasters.


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I am use to those Gulliver's Travel moments 

where he is pinned to the ground. Being use to it

doesn't mean I like it.


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I thought about all the energy it takes to hate

no one is worth that much negative energy.

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I have learned that in this day and age with technology at our fingertips...

children are missing out on simplicity.

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I find beauty in the simplest of things,

that is why my mind always drifts to nature.

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Rewriting chapters and burning books 

is gonna be my legacy. 


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Once upon a dream.....that is why they call them fairytales.


~

When the sky is bluer and the stars brighter 

on your own accord.


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I was once told 
" I'll throw you the rope, it's up to you to climb up it"

~

" Will you catch me if I fall?" " Don't fall" 

ouch I gotta stop looking back when running.


~

I watched the sunrise and set and  with each moment

I realized I do indeed hold the pen.


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" Blowing in the wind" hoping for a big windstorm.


~

Ultimatums  have nothing to do with love

and everything to do with control. 


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You can't put a price tag on love

it comes free to the right two people. 


~

It is amazing what you learn from a stranger

" Don't let your emotions control you"


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Once upon a moment....

~

Why is it most people like to imprison free spirits?


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Putting my life in order one thought at a time. 


~

...as the rain falls.


~





Thursday, February 11, 2021

Toys with The MInd

 Just a star bright in the sky

with no meaning or no rhyme, 

shining down on you and I

as it still toys with the mind. 


The mountains reach high

to unite earth with the sky,

I tremble as I look to see

if only once you thought of 

me. 


I'll never love the same again,

maybe this is how the story ends, 

my heart can no longer feel 

it's as if the days are standing still. 






Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Morning Thoughts

 The moral of the story "it is what it is" 


~

Choice indeed chooses the path,

where we stumble and sometimes fall.


~

I do believe in destiny 

and sometimes destiny isn't what we expect. 


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You can't live on dreams 

but doesn't mean I can't try.


~

Reality  is that true love never causes pain, 

I guess few people ever experience true love. 



Sunday, February 07, 2021

Bloom

 I heard the song of the blue bird in flight

he arrives each spring bringing joy to life, 

I await his arrival from March through May

in hopes of a glimpse of what comes with faith. 


I felt the magic that love can bring

it touched my heart and made my soul sing, 

from the moment I knew what love could bring

something inside of me awoke from the dream. 


I keep the feelings of sweet tucked safely inside 

the memories of  both you and I, 

like a day in spring when all begins a new

my love continues to grow and bloom. 

Saturday, February 06, 2021

World

 Here in the heart of the hollow you'll here

the wind as it dips down and whispers within,

a dance on the passing clouds above,

spinning and twirling as I wait on your love.


I can feel the presence like a magnetic force

drawing together in our forevermore, 

you can't deny the certainty that is true

like a bird that soars in the heavens blue.


I understand in the most unusual way 

the joy which brings meaning to the day, 

somethings are fate I know to be true

as it brought me your loving right out

of the blue.


Dreams , dreams they're all that I have

given  in a dream on my behalf ,

live , love and all will be 

as the way of the world meant it to be.



Thursday, February 04, 2021

Winter

Nature's lace upon the hills 

reflects the moon like in stills,

whispers of days gone by 

brings the memories to mind. 

The snow fell upon the hills

and the days slowly passing by,

as if trapped in the moment

and needing you by myside.

Winter is the artist

though captured have I, 

the design of a season 

time after time.


 The hemlock heavy and

the green frosted with white,

stands in silence as the winds

speak like a riddle in rhyme.