Introspection Lines Poems

Your words cave in
to my ear canal,
each laud casting lines
slight of fate.

I live this life
as a fish woman,
with my tackle box 
full of bait.
...

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Dear Fate,

Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. 

I suppose you are right, Fate.

Thanx for the tip.

Thanx for letting us know.

Thanx for nothing....

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Like sewage seeps
Trouble brews
Problems creep
A bonus thought
Of beauty weeps
When those moments flee...

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Stirred.
Blurred.
Deferred.

A haze of thoughts.
In the raw.
Unprocessed unpolished.
Ethereal feral.
Impulses really.

I might drown.
A sea of ambiguity.
Random content 
in my private universe.
 
At times, I can’t be bothered.
At...

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‘Tis not a sword, but mightier, the ink but darkened blood.
It takes me to the lofty peaks or rolls me in the mud.
It hands me...

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The importance of lines…

Ingrained, etched, immovable in their presence
A map that leads nowhere, except to navigate my life’s journey
Some in plain sight, laid bare, causing...

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Bad teeth since childhood, they still hurt.
Fifty years of playing with children.  
Known my husband since I was four.
Small town girl, who always wanted...

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Between two lines we walk each day, 
Between two lines of fate, 
Between these two eternal walls, 
Until we graduate,

And some lines shiver blissful music,...

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outline bold and black
empty form awaits color
I move past the lines...

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We are all little broken pieces
Trying to find the glue that give us form
Walking becomes harder, and swimming is such a chore
The weight in our...

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Each line is like a daub of the brush stroke
Of the Artist painting Grace
And the final adoring beauty
Is the image of your Face

Brenda Elizabeth Rose...

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Each day is an empty page
within an ongoing book,
a blank sheet waiting to be
etched with indelible ink.

One can choose to fill that page
with typeset; unchanging...

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What about the fact that am the one that will lose
              ...

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We've been floating through the years
Just you and me my dear
Without a worry on our minds
Or a watch to keep the time

Yet we question of...

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Ring-bound journal waiting fond writes;
Feel warm thermal as words now cite.

Small square box lines guide and align;
Sexy thoughts brined in sensuous signs.

Word follows word in...

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