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methinks

what is 

the colour of your peace, i ask

is it an angry red 

the type i used to dread

or a cool blue

the type that i never knew in you 

i can sometimes see some green 

maybe you truly are all calm, all serene

or are you now painted purple 

as i am, in this downward tumble

and as i haggle

with our collective fate 

you give, and you take back 

like a good god spurned 

but it matters not much 

for life always has a way 

like a sapling in a puddle 

it has no claim to dismay

and in no part, 

will my story be yours, 

because nobody asks the questions, 

that I answer in my poems, 

and nobody sees the meaning, 

I create in my life. 

‚Äčin his hand, a smaller hand 

and a boy he calls “hey buddy”

and there, in testimony, I stand

of all that he is, and could be 

Suddenly, he asked, “Will you walk these streets with me and our child?”

“Yes” she said. Adding that the child would most likely be terribly lazy, getting two half measures of indolence – one each from both of them. 

It was the world’s shortest, most unlikely proposal. That’s what it was about things that weren’t meant to be. They were perfect. They were intense. They made sense to your psyche. They filled up the gaps inside you. And they were clearly unattainable. 

they said 

put a ring to it 

like it were words 

set to a tune 

who really knew 

what a penance it implied 

of what self it denied

that i almost don’t recognize 

who knew that even before 

I donned that garb 

I already knew how naked 

it left everyone i saw

for faith was about love

love was about perseverance 

and perseverance is a lost art 

in a world of half measures 

and in time
all reasons dwindle
into a fortunate reason enough
and sometimes
not even so, and you begin to see
yourself in every someone
at every other some time

when did this journey begin?
when i’d no place to go
but for within

an amalgam of prescriptions
am i
in part due to affinity
and
in part due to concern
i have
been told to not think of that
just as
i’ve been told to move
to stop,
to step aside
and
to merely silence my self

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Lisa Jakub

Writing about what happens when we stop acting

so long as it's words

so long as it's words... words and worlds

Tommy Tomlinson

Thoughts on sports, music, books and other wonderful things