storytelling

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Three travelers come across a forest, And pause to gaze-- Trees tall and hoar with age, in hushed air, Whose mossy trunks
At church last night, we were sharing a meal, celebrating the girl in nice, white clothes, not quite as little as you'd expect.
It's time I realize that now I wasn’t ready before Not like I thought I was I was only forcing the inspiration The urgency
Looking up at the sky I remember the timeWhen I received those wings and took flightUnbound by the earth and finally freeI thought maybe, I could fly higher
500
Cacophony Screeching and Despair Feet hitting pavement “Run to the left…. take this right
I still eat peanut butter as if it fulfills all the categories in  the nutritional pyramid. It can be found in the cupboards of each place  I hang up my jacket and step in. What’s convenient about 
Everything is Dark   I stare out through my window I feel numb and I can’t move Am I scared?   Boom! A flash of light a gun is firing, I don’t flinch Why can’t I look away?  
Her eyes were like shadowsReclusive and tauntingHis eyes were the sunShining, yet dauntingShe had seen him before but they never had spokenUntil one day she left him an affectionate tokenShe'd seen him at his locker, 46-BBut what she left he'd hav
I have never understood history
Madness is ambiguous, just like reality When life is too sweet, you get bad cavities Because there's beauty in the struggle The ups and downs, concavity    It's been a good life, so my concious holds
To tell a story with the tongue Can be a feat at best Yet every word becomes a world To the listening guest
She Will   The woman leaps across the continent: Bern, Paris, Munich, Prague, the green sloping fields of Switzerland. She is moving forward, moving towards  
  Dead! My love is dead! Taken from me prematurely By silver wrought through his heart, Murdered By a man no more virtuous than himself Immortal heart impaled My sisters slayed, bodies flayed

I am from lands which weep rain unto us all;From cozy tapestries of cloud and trees like the fingers of God.I am from the sweet, bastard child of Gaia and Hephaestus,Where Nature dances the waltz with Industry
Give me then something to write about All the truth-tellers scrambling around Aching twisting burning out Because really, whats left to say? Why write why write why write Poetry?
Old is the style of this poem, Harkening back to how long ago? Yet despite age, dear it is still, telling stories til' the day's end.
Upscale or upstage Peaceful fight or calm rage Black and white or a melodic gray Take hold of the wind or the gravity and stay
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