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Grace Watkins Poem
Oh to forget.
To loose the stone where it is set.
To step into whiteness,
fill the space with lightness.
I would let it trickle from my fingertips.
Scribble the memory of how i shaped my lips.
To this secret paper i Impart, how i used my words
to crush your heart
How one can get carried away in arguments
of right and wrong,
till ones wronged the right one in her justice song.
Oh to forget your means true end; it is done by
everyone on that depend.
I will write to you.
please forgive me all.
Let bitterness from your memory fall.
oh to forget
to forget
to forget
Let every person i hurt forget.
Then give me a potion of tales tall,
so that from my memory
it may also fall.
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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Grace Watkins Poem
love making, this celebration of the pelt
for each other and the feelings felt
we celebrate the skin and earth
all day rising in mirth
sigh and share and smile and applaud
till the devil and the lord
kiss and together merge
it is our love
made this euphoric surge
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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Grace Watkins Poem
It was done
I had once again put pen to paper.
A line had come!
An un bid swell
Like a sea current in a well.
Built, poured into and drawn from
It had come, it had come.
Not the best but a relief
Now i could ink out a life, a grief,
Make a friend
Then bring them to an end.
With a pen to pick and choose
Win over your loss, not give a toss
Hold them close again
With just your pen.
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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Grace Watkins Poem
To the sounding of the
Tick on Tock.
I added to it
Block on block.
My loneliness,
A drawing in.
A turning of anger
In.
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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Grace Watkins Poem
Dust hung swaying in shafts of light.
A book lay marked but closed;
piano and guitar slept,
remembering their last melody...
Silence, she sang, and everywhere
stillness was dancing,
light footed like a lilting
wind she is.
Nothing moved in the room
except the fire,
and the fire in me.
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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Grace Watkins Poem
Choose not to be the flower
But choose the stem
The stem holds the bloom again and again
From the first bud unfurling
To the last petal
Earth-bound hurling
The steps you waltzed with that one are forgotten now
But next spring a new love will arrive
Once again the wind will dance you
And you shall feel alive
Teach shy petals to welcome the butterfly
They will carry your pollen unimaginably high
In the end you’ll loose her and all that she brought
Yet next season who would have thought
An even more beautiful rose will arrive
Surely from dreams does her beauty derive.
Copyright © Grace Watkins | Year Posted 2009
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