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Pictorial Definitions

Updated on October 7, 2009

Pictorial Definitions.


My life is a pickle each daily slice
tangy and sweet
but sometimes it can turn
suddenly sour..... puckering up my lips
and my heart.

Drawn from where fate
preserves all sorrows
in the jar of
bitter circumstances,
nevertheless I savor the
flavour of both
while breathing in
all the monotonous tasteless
breaths that stretch before me.

( ( ( ( ( ( O ) ) ) ) ) )

Love is a steamroller
bringing all that is

seperate tightly together
smoothing out all the bumps
and the pitfalls
in the road of life.

Merging two lanes
that will travel together
side by side
down joyous paths.

Love rolls over you
erasing all doubt
that stands in its way
leaving a steaming
expanse of warmth
behind it. 
Death is an exclamation point,
a period that lies under
a large vertical marker,
much in the same way
that you will lie
under a large vertical
marker over the period
that marks the end
of your sentence
in this life,
Birth is a portal
a doorway of flesh
opened only a few centimeters
allowing you to squeeze out
then it closes behind you forevermore.


It is the only door
you can never re-enter
yet it clings to you upon your leaving
with a long cord to sustain you
until it too is severed.
Courage is honorable insanity
driven by adrenaline and impulse.

The mind ignores all normal hesitations
and jumps headlong into the improbable
the impossible...without any thought
of self preservation.

A form of attempted suicide
with a twist,
for if you live you will be
looked upon with favour
and if you die

you will be revered.

Peace is the total abscence of fear
thus the impossibility of achieving it
in this life looms large
for who is without fear? 

Poetry is a rollercoaster
where on you ride the peaks
and the valleys
of your emotions.

It's a ride shared with others
some enjoy the trip
flinging their arms up in delight,
while others fail to grasp clinging
fearfully to each page,
afraid of misinterperting your thoughts.

Sometimes a poems words come fast
rushing down in a long sweeping flow,
othertimes they go clickety-clack
clickety clack up a dreaded
hill of uncertianity.

But at the end of each ride
you rush back
to jump in on some more lines
and take the thrill
of riding/writing the tracks over
the pages again.



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