| White canvas' and drawers full of color
| |
| | of color
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| brushes
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| | and the dolphins of yore
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| clay
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| | the sea lions chime in
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| pencils and paper to write out my ideas
| |
| | and together we feel our artful
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| waiting for meInspiration
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| | journeyLove
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| somewhere between folded memories and
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| | all the beauty around me
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| todays rainbow or stormy clouds
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| | breath it in
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| My creativity depends on my focus
| |
| | make it my pleasure to visit anytime I
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| I smile
| |
| | chooseI take out my pen and write all my
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| I frown
| |
| | childlike adventures
|
| I tear up and feel the pang of some ones
| |
| | I write and it saves me
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| defeat
| |
| | encourages me
|
| oft times my ownArrival at a mermaids
| |
| | protects me from my own self sometimes
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| den
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| | gets it all out for all to see or to
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| flight of a nearby fairy offering her
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| | hide in my closetI write
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| dust
| |
| | my friend, my pleasure this pen of mine
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| Images of old masters who never knew
| |
| | My companion from whomever the words are
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| their worth
| |
| | birthedand then....
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| How to books of arriving at someone
| |
| | I cry
|
| else's vision
| |
| | I cry because I lust for my arrival to
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| Movies of passion or tears
| |
| | that space
|
| Fashion magazines and torn out pages of
| |
| | that space that dismisses criticism
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| sensual poses
| |
| | that ache
|
| Fashion magazines of women who line up
| |
| | I cry because it seems only inches away
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| perfectly in a crowd
| |
| | at any given moment my teacup might
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| filed carefully to meet my moodMelted,
| |
| | fallSo I YELL
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| my treasures
| |
| | I YELL at the incoming traffic
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| together with music!
| |
| | floods of eyes showing disapproval
|
| Ahhh music my muse!
| |
| | and I YELL at my own struggleTurning
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| Play it as loud as you can without
| |
| | around
|
| alarming the neighbors
| |
| | I see meI pick my battles and I run
|
| Feel the base and the pounding of
| |
| | I feel the breeze in my hair
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| musical notes as they meet their
| |
| | sweat falling from my head to my neck
|
| objective
| |
| | that confirms my travel
|
| Know the lyrics and sing to the top of
| |
| | and I feel the rush
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| my lungs
| |
| | because I run as far as I canI lie flat
|
| Yes sing!
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| | on the floor
|
| All the magic around me is readyThen
| |
| | quiet
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| dance!
| |
| | still and quiet
|
| Dance free on the sand of the closest
| |
| | I listen to the sound of my own breath
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| beach I can find
| |
| | I try to think of nothing
|
| Dance on fresh mown grass
| |
| | no false prisons that lock out creative
|
| feel the blood rush to my head
| |
| | souls or the inner child
|
| Dance like a fairy under flowers and
| |
| | I think of nothingSilence enters and I
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| leaves
| |
| | am calm
|
| Dance swimming swiftly just like a
| |
| | once againBirds
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| mermaid
| |
| | the wind through the tree
|
| Feel the wetness of her travel
| |
| | my cat licks my face
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| close my eyes
| |
| | I open my eyesWhite canvas' and drawers
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| yes, I am there!So Swim!
| |
| | full of color........
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| All the fish adorned with their jewels
| |
| |
|