Wander-ing

Poetry about life given, lived, reserved, presevered.

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thought of clouds blown into shape over green meadows
 riveting in the maddening circle of white haze
 it never stops it never robs
the people that gaze at it

thought of ruffians hiding in the bushes of life
making sure that you and I will not go through life
without pain in it
- silvery hair slithers around fake bits

thinking of now and when the noon settles below
not realising how it's behind the sun
rating it's proud fun as dismissed strength
- bliss even if there's bitter

wandering 'round the life that we got 
jointless craving of another's done
doubting the facts of one's own bun
written in stone - nothing is gone

wondering about new things to come
mustering breath for when freedom will begun
wondering of how will irony become
clouds blow out of shape - will be pun.

Would love some feedback, so let me know what you thought of this poem in the comments below.

Thanks, Szabina @ Curiosity Corner Dublin

Light in darkness

Poetry written by Szabina @Curiosity Corner Dublin

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where does the bird fly when it's wings are restricted
prepared to fail yet hoping the best is yet to be inflicted
roaming the earth for views yet to be earned
soaring through time, the likes of which never been heard

laughing in the face of danger those others are
yet our bird sees behind their masks and far
beyond the unseen sheds of tears
longing to free them of their fears

synonymous salty enrapturing sacks of sorrows
stealing all the more of the tomorrows
little bird's up and sees it all on their cruising
wanting to stop and halt the bruising

it's hopeless, isn't it?

yet in the darkness a flickering light, some hope
in pandora's box can be found somehow, helps to cope
stunning eruptions of reminders of better days

not to turn back to but to reform.

Musings Relentless

A poem by Curiosity Corner Dublin

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Rapid rowing of the boat rapidly ravenous
Require-less and riveting ringlets off the mountain of words.

Word that wanting to willingly wonder
In wireless worlds of wanton climbers of fills.

Fill the fountain of fatuous fluctuation of frills
Fatefully fruitless floundering of the illusional hills.

Hills that contain imagination hovering
Haunting hauling hitherto unforeseen.

Unforeseen understood in underlying untoward 
Unification of untangled messes of the masses.

Mass musings of mundane mortals maniacally mounting
Lest the mysteries remain unsolved frail wanting yet more.