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Jean Calliope Poem
A Candle
To the soft touch of my breath
and stillness of the room
it cooly shivers
reaching high at times
to touch any other soft object
and lightly scorch it
The Burning Candle
Copyright © Jean Calliope | Year Posted 2020
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Jean Calliope Poem
I dream about sitting here alone with you.
In front of a warm cozy fire
Drinking white wine
And talking of old times.
Then, when we both run out of things to say
I touch you And you don't refuse.
Inch by inch we move away from the fire
and casually lie down.
I awake to the bright glare of the sunlight
and find that the fire's not burning,
the wine sits in 2 glasses untouched.
Have I been dreaming this all
And if so will this dream come true?
I ask of you
Respond to me you shy soul.
Copyright © Jean Calliope | Year Posted 2020
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Jean Calliope Poem
I dream about sitting here alone with u.
In front of a warm cozy fire
Drinking white wine
And talking of old times.
Copyright © Jean Calliope | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Jean Calliope Poem
They say there exists a disability,
one of which we call Autism.
He, as well as many others,
define this disability
not as an actual disability
yet as a special talent.
A method of feeling and expressing life
in a special way,
at a genius level
within one’s own specialty
If one is afflicted,
if in fact this is seen as an affliction;
why must they have to have undergone
This sacrifice?
And why does one individual
feel that this is an affliction?
You are special
able to express oneself in such a way
as no other.
YOU
are therefore,
a special entity.
Know this,
Remember this
And always be true
To oneself.
Copyright © Jean Calliope | Year Posted 2020
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Jean Calliope Poem
To go through unbearable torture
such as I;
and he as well.
The confusion,
the hurt,
the anger.
The lies which enveil
every minute of every day.
Were we ever real,
was I only a place to unload,
a place to live and store
your paraphernalia?
Copyright © Jean Calliope | Year Posted 2020
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