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The Poetess - Miro
Her eyes on the moon or a twirled moustache,
Upside-down questions never before asked.
Violins play a solo alongside quiet pain,
That is only spoken of within poetic refrain.
Thought bubbles bounce and collide with stars,
A self never spoke of, disguised in rhyming memoirs.
Mazes and teeth in riddles unravelled,
As the subconscious mind becomes more well-travelled.
Layers of thought, covered with layers of feeling,
Brought into the light with a little free-wheeling.
Though dots may join up, there is no conclusion,
For a poetess is always part fantasy, part illusion.
Venn diagram discoveries made without knowing,
Sharing of ideas with the seeds they are sowing.
Exiting time when feeling off-kilter,
To observe all askew - a true angle tilter.
We scribble in darkness and scribble in light,
scribble for solace, for fun, for our life.
Copyright ©
Di11y Da11y
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