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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
How does my body
This flesh that withholds my soul,,
manage to bear the weight from the chains that have been embedded upon my bequeathing heart?
Where does one hide the pain that is encrusted upon these eyes that are dreary and now fail to sleep?
Why cant my mind acquit, my heart adrift, my skin ache for the touch of another?
Does it have to be me that has to live with this night, because happiness is the other side of this mirror?
h
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
'In the darkness may glimpses of light be shone upon me,
giving me the strength i need to walk thru the shadows of whispering trees and untamed wild beasts to mend what secretly is.....a silent but ever aching heart
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
I looked outside my window,
just the other day
As I watched the old trees leaves,
they slowly fell away
As slowly one by one did fall
With no pain, no hurt at all
Just the whispers of the trees
That still had all their leaves
What a lovely thing to see, if only I was that very tree.
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
I am not scared ,
You are not real.
It’s just a white sheet,
It’s No big deal.
Ha! Cobwebs on the door,
I could turn on the light.
But Why would I check,
I’m not scared,right?
Shadows on the wall,
Your funny, brother Joe!
I might just close my eyes,
I’m not interested in his show!
“Mum I cannot sleep,
I forgot, I have a test
I think I must study,
Plus, I don’t need to rest.”
“Son it is late,
You must go to bed.
Stop worrying about tonight,
Just get to sleep, I said”
“Dad, can you please come here.
My bed seems to be soaked.
It’s not because I’m scared, I’m tough
It’s because, I’ve been drinking coke”
“No worries son, Let’s change it now.
It’s really no big deal”
“Daddy can you tell the truth,
Are ghosts and ghouls real?
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2018
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
A new sun is dawning
There's a glistening in the sky
Mother hens are chirping
As Magpies learn to fly
Children are on bicycles
New love is in the air
Ice cream stalls and fresh fruit
Summer is everywhere.
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
Existential fear,
erected by the faceless horde;
old yellow!
seismic,
voodoo wave,
dominating weak;
Our Territory and tenure.
Yellow Peril, in all his glory
The depths of disparity,
neither somber or pallid;
chromaticity;
Old yellow!
Impending catastrophe;
A Permafrost wrap
Brazen
Yellow Peril, In all his glory
Hopeful Jubilation,
Bigotry
segregation
Blind,
Sad,
Immortal,
Yellow peril
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2018
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
Bid on my love
Crashing waves, thunderstorm
Soaking wet, yet I'm warm
Blooming flowers, turtle dove
All four Seasons, show me love
H
02-12- -2015
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
In the darkness she lies still,
Her closed eyes do feel my stare
Each breath she takes fills my lungs
Her thoughts, our minds, run
Her fears flood right through my veins
She twitches and turns for me
She is me and I am her
Our hearts beat as one
02-12-2015
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2015
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
I lie here still and cold.
My eyes grey and fathomless,
My cancer- stricken body.
Awaiting the quietus of my final nap.
A sleep that will last an eternity,
Filled with a tiresome, repetitious rhapsody.
My story forever untold,
The delinquency of my fable
Written 21-03-2018
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2018
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Mockingbird Stevenson Poem
The Toymakers Toy
I thought once Pinocchios strings had been cut,
his wooden body turned to flesh
and he became ‘real’
Yet, I have been cut loose from my strings,
only to be left feeling numb,
and raw?
I feel as though I have landed,
like a twig that’s been thrown by a child.
And am now, Just Waiting
Waiting, to be trodden on.
I was gifted a voice,
by the fairy godmother herself.
But given no volume
Or words to speak.
My ears however, have to listen.
my eyes unable to close,
my control centre never sleeps,
My tastebuds completely frozen.
My vunerable heart,
placed outside of my chest.
With no love or protection,
Just the echo of my masters voice.
The clinking of chains
Secured to my wrists,
clogging My arteries,
And, Starving my veins.
each breath is harder,
like grissle that's been gnawed,
straight off a bone,
By a ferocious beast.
A broken toy,
with a soul.
that is wanting to be real.
To find Giuseppe
and be loved,
not wooden with strings.
Copyright © Mockingbird Stevenson | Year Posted 2018
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