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Christy Gomillion Poem
Love's tender bloom, a fleeting, transient grace,
A rapturous dream, a seraphic delight,
Where hearts entwined in an amorous embrace,
Find solace in the moon's ambrosial light.
But passion's fire, though ardent and intense,
Can wane and dwindle, like a fading star,
Leaving behind a melancholic pretense,
Of joy that once soared, now forever afar.
For love's elysium, a verdant domain,
Where bliss and rapture eternally reside,
Is but a mirage, a phantasmal refrain,
Where fleeting joys on fickle wings preside.
Yet, though it fades, its memory remains,
A poignant echo, whispering of past refrains.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
Talent isn't a gift, it's a muscle. It's forged in the quiet moments, the late nights, the endless practice. It's birthed from dreams, nurtured by passion, and shaped by relentless pursuit. So, dream big, practice hard, and let your talent bloom.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
She wove a tapestry of tender grace,
A silken thread of affection's embrace.
He, a tempest, a tempestuous soul,
Cast shadows deep, beyond control.
She, a beacon, radiant and bright,
Bathed him in the aureate light
Of her devotion, pure and true,
But he, oblivious, sailed through.
He, an incubus, a fleeting guise,
Lured her with illusory skies.
She, with an albatross of adoration,
Yearned for a flight, a love above.
But he, a maelstrom, dark and deep,
Dragged her down to the ocean's keep,
Where hope, a fragile, opalescent gleam,
Drowned in the abyss of his cold, cruel dream.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
In shadows cast by candlelight's embrace,
I hold my cello close, in tender grace.
The haunting melody spills from my fingers,
Weaving a spell that lingers and lingers.
Each note a tear, each bow a sigh,
The music carries a soulful cry.
In the echoes of the strings' lament,
An angel's presence is surely sent.
With every stroke, a story unfolds,
Of beauty and sorrow, of truths untold.
The cello's voice, both fierce and mild,
Captivates like the gaze of a lost child.
The angel dances in the music's glow,
A phantom of grace in the oscillate and swing.
Bound to the song, in ethereal flight,
Enraptured by the melody's might.
Together we weave a tapestry divine,
A tale of love and loss, of joy and pine.
In the hush of the night, under the stars' gleam,
We play on, lost in the music's dream.
So let the cello cry, let the angel soar,
In harmonies that will forever endure.
For in the heart-wrenching strains we play,
A fleeting glimpse of heaven's ray.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
The land lies silent
Beneath the icy embrace
Trees stand still, statues
Whisper of life now dormant
Yet hope lingers in the cold
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
In fractured glass, a soul confined,
A haunting visage, etched in mind.
A skeletal frame, a vacant stare,
A prisoner of endless despair.
Through shattered shards, a glimpse of pain,
A silent scream, a maddened brain.
A twisted form, a broken vow,
A withered spirit, lost somehow.
The mirror cracks, a haunting sight,
A shattered self, consumed by night.
A fractured reflection, a desperate plea,
A captive soul, yearning to be free.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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Christy Gomillion Poem
Rust clings like memories,
framing the world,
a mottled lace of time—
the window pane,
a portal to whispers,
yet the view is
a watercolor dream,
blurring edges,
softening the harshness,
where light dances
through corroded veins,
and beauty hides
in the flawed
and the forgotten.
Copyright © Christy Gomillion | Year Posted 2024
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