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Posts Tagged ‘wind’

It won’t be as black as my umbrella I forgot the weather I carried around me. My eye bags were  like cumulus cloud hanging low, grey and heavy moving slow hovering thoughts you won’t know what I am trying to get over underneath. I expect   rain showers drop down its pellets. And the prevailing [...]

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I met Monet in his princely demeanor, among the manicured lawn and the secret garden grows its verdant sprigs and tresses, wild and free in the prairie. Butterfly flutters  paint palette hovering bloom after bloom. Solitude   drips in cadmium and ochre sun sitting prominently, potted and composed, regal and undisturbed. A gentle touch of [...]

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From the grass bed, cotton fluffs of white swirling past shadowy ebbs and crests of green hills.   Dots of trees fringe the edges of reverie in the wind. I’m wide awake   asleep daydream embracing splashes of red soft velvety blossom full under the warm sun.   Free spirit flowing with the world shifting [...]

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We walk along the beach to see the happy couples like us staring at the ocean. And see how the waves come and go subduing our blues, buried under the sand. Did we become a tourist of our own, devoid of pleasure on being together? We walk like solitary man and woman glancing sideways, avoiding [...]

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There’s a suitcase in the hall. And emptiness will soon occupy it. Something which kept me immobile, quite undecided to test the wind or its aged leafless trees outside   where the silent pavement beckons and my own shadow as a companion. How should I, in the permanence of seasons would not be keen to [...]

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This man’s bohemian and the weird symphonies- the whining of fan blades; the sharp screams of children vibrating on the window pane; and the crackling sound of my bones tired of standing up, shuffling back and forth turning to see the bed tempting me to lay down, get lazy and do nothing.   And the [...]

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I can feel it now across this table in the old diner of this no man’s land, The sound of shuffling deck of cards. Or is it the leaves in autumn falling in September- that he will remember?   Do you know what it feels like to be buried in cans and tins of paint, [...]

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