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Keep in Touch (Flash Fiction)

10/31/2014

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by Lyn Lomasi; Co-owner of Brand Shamans &  Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
She still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. Visions of the home she once knew lingered in her mind as she tossed and turned. She opened her eyes and sat up, brushing her straight black tresses to the side of her dingy face. As she stood up from the dampened and flattened cardboard box she now called home, a familiar voice called out.

"Meli! Meli! I know you hear me, girl!"

Her sister rushed toward her for the first time in years. But Meli was less thrilled about the discovery. She wasn't proud of who or what she'd become and she certainly was in no shape for a visitor, even if it was family. Despite the crumpled and tattered clothing and the odor of the streets, Tunisa hugged her close.

"How did you find me anyway?"

She didn't receive an answer to the question. Her sister simply looked at her with a look she knew all too well. Something was very wrong. That's why she'd come.

"What is it, Tunisa?"

"Mom's not doing too well. She only wants to see you. That's all she's ever wanted."

Dutifully, Meli followed her sister in silence. There were a few department store shopping bags in the backseat of the new minivan. She figured her sister must have turned into a shopaholic, like so many others these days.

They eventually pulled up to a small blue two-bedroom house that sat on about an acre of unkempt land. Despite the yellowing lawn in need of some mowing, the house seemed welcoming. As they got out of the van, her sister handed her the bags.

"Go wash up and pick out what you like. They're all yours."

"Are you sure? You don't have to do me no favors, big sis."

"Just go on and get dressed girl. It's nothin'."

As Meli walked through the house she felt a sense of warmth - the furniture, the smells, the decor - everything was like the home from her dreams. Just like the home she used to know. This wasn't that place, but everything was here. She'd save the questions for later, as she really was looking forward to that shower.

The bathroom contained all of her favorite hair supplies and toiletries and the towels even contained her initials. Now things were getting strange, but she went ahead with the shower and put on a flowery, autumn-colored dress that flattered her shape. Her sister even remembered her size.

When she came out of the bathroom, Tunisa muttered something about leaving the rest of the clothing at the house for now. Thoughts of her mother ran through her mind. She felt guilty and ashamed for not keeping in touch all these years. Why was mom now requesting her?

She desperately wanted answers, but didn't know what to say. Was it even appropriate to question things? So much time had passed, she just didn't feel right having any kind of conversation outside of small talk.

Both her mom and Tunisa had tried to help when she lost her job and her home, but she was too embarrassed to accept help. She didn't want to be a burden or a charity case. Her skills were no longer useful. Computers had taken over everything she knew how to do, so she'd have to start over. Even fast food venues turned her down. They preferred the younger generation and she was far from that. She wasn't old, but she wasn't young either. After leaving behind everything and everyone she knew and loved, she had been too ashamed to keep in touch. How could she explain things?

They pulled up to her sister's home just down the road. Inside her mother was lying on a hospital-like bed flicking channels. She knew it. Her mother was ill and now she felt even worse for not staying in touch. She instantly went to her mother's bedside, but not before noticing the huge grin spreading across the woman's aging face. As they embraced, she said a prayer for her mother and apologized for not being around more.

Suddenly, she felt a chill and saw a flash of light. Her mother shouted something incoherent and began dancing around the room. Her sister looked on in astonishment. Apparently her mother hadn't moved her legs or spoken in years. The doctors never could make a diagnosis.

She now seemed to be cured.

All Tunisa could utter was "Thank you. That van and house you just came from are yours. I saved your furniture and had it built so you could be close to mom until she...but um, that might be a while now." The tears then flowed from her eyes.

It's never too late to keep in touch with your family. You never know how much you mean in someone's life.

*I originally published this via Yahoo Contributor Network
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Unexpected Disturbance (Poetry)

10/30/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
Looking for the patterns in the stars
Dude, you’ve gone a little too far!
Been so long since we’ve been lucky
This charming thing’s rather plucky!

This unexpected disturbance
Wouldn’t seen this coming
An unfortunate happenstance
Lost you in a crazed trance

Which way is that again?
Stop and ask for directions
How have you been?
Seen any sudden resurrections?
Sure unexpected to see 
Such a revival in a poor boy
So broken-hearted as he

But the change has come
As an unexpected disturbance
A man trying to find his way
As a needle buried in hay

The way out of a maze
Of sophisticated intellect
Out there’s a ghastly haze
Not all it’s cracked up to be
Our spiritual tour guide suspects
That the prime suspect is a she
For the murder of his naïve soul

Discovering he’s suffering
From the odd, peculiar symptoms
Those easily certify him as being
Sick and illogically damaged!



Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2004

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Barely Alive (Poetry)

10/30/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
The day has barely begun

When the paranoia overcomes

The better part of me

That I thought could never succumb

To selfish desires, yeah

Screaming out for connection

Yelling out for affection

I’m barely alive



I’m barely alive

This emptiness inside

No bees buzzing round in this hive

Feed me sweetness, candies

I’m barely alive

Hanging on, for your sweet love



Senses overload, aroma therapy

Feeling the flesh, heading down

That forbidden road, quite a highway now

Hot and fresh, acting as a total clown

Around that sexy lady-kind o’er there



I’m barely alive

This emptiness inside

No bees buzzing round in this hive

Feed me sweetness, candies

I’m barely alive

Hanging on, for your sweet love



Sensational, scintillating beauties

Paranoid and loving so many cuties

I’m barely alive


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2004
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I Can Hear You Smile (Poetry) - A 2014 Poem by Richard Rowell

10/29/2014

1 Comment

 
by R.A. Rowell, Published Poet
Picture
October 28, 2014

Even when there's silence
I can hear your smile
The love on your breath
I can smell from here

When I whisper
Sweet nothings to you
I can hear you smile
The most beautiful thing

Your dimples show
And your cheeks glow
Your eyes shine
And our love grows

They say love is
Best expressed
Through silence
It's true

Cause in between
The words we say
I can hear
You smile


Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2014


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The Lacquer (Poetry)

10/29/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture

February 10, 2008

Buried beneath the lacquer
The liquor stole your beautiful sight
Inside you suck on your inhaler
Searching for some inner light

What's left within for right
Is there any purpose to fight
You're fading even paler
The days are growing ever staler

This is a stage of fright
Darkened by eternal night
Hate pervades the valleys
And slips through the broken levees

Watch the cities wash away
As the citizens all pray
To their false idols of plastic
The end will be so fantastic!

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The Princess and the Pupil (Poetry)

10/29/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
January 5, 2014

I am a student
We each are a student
Of some kind, to some degree
One can never stop learning
Or risk withering away
Knowledge is a power
That can also be a curse

I once studied
Causes and effects
Saw many effects
Seemingly without causes
And had to dig deeper
For more of a meaning
Searching for hidden answers

I fancied myself a historian
Trying to uncover a mystery
Seeing what effects I may cause
What was my special place in all this
The fantastic chaos we call life
I wanted to learn from the darkness
To bring the world a new light

But then I fell in love
With a blue-eyed princess
Her voice brought me joy
Her face an omnipresent smile
To my life that felt empty
Missing something, I was
Ever incomplete without her

I learned all I could
About this beautiful creature
The more I learned
The more I fell in love
But all I could do was study
To observe from a distance
To never truly feel her love

I became obsessed
To create a world for her
Something to amaze her
Bring her to me
Just for her to see me
To recognize me for something
Just to know I brought her joy

She brought me joy
In my darkest hours
I wanted to return the favor
Even if it wasn't meant for me
The rest of my life is empty
My future dark and uncertain
Without her light to guide me

My Luna Starlight
The light of my dreams
Without you by my side
My nights are lonely and cold
What can I do to find a way
To bring me into your world
Only there will I feel at peace

Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2014

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Come Take My Hand (Poetry)

10/28/2014

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by Lyn Lomasi; Owner of Intent-sive Nature & the Brand Shamans network
Picture
Come take my hand
Sit with me a while
Come take my hand
We'll just laugh a while
Come take my hand
Listen to my heart
Come take my hand
We can never part
Come take my hand
Keep me close this way
Come take my hand
Promise me you'll stay
As you take my hand
I'm telling you now
Always as one we stand
This to you I vow

*I originally published this via Yahoo Contributor Network
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The Idle (Poetry)

10/28/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
The world falls to its knees

Every once in a while

To look up and stare

They have found themselves an idol



They cannot describe the experience

That they have been lifted above

Their little insignificant existence

To be accepted by open arms of love



They find their lives in ruins

The tears keep flowing

Can't deal with the truth

This day to day never knowing



What am I here for

Must set my sights

On a higher power

There must be something more



Some will look beyond

The faith, the beliefs

Try to find the answer

Science brings the mind relief



But in times the world meets

Challenges it can't understand

The world turns so bitter

Every one needs a steady hand.




Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2004
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Lonesome A Long Time (Poetry)

10/27/2014

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by Joshua Packard, JRPSongs
Picture

I'm slowing down to a crawl

Even though I wanna run

Want to run with you all

I'm back here feeling alone

I've been here a long time now

Waiting all day for tomorrow

Following a dream that waits for me

On a road that's always going

Felt lonesome a long time

And the remedy is at my fingertips

And it won't be the flirt that finds me

For I see none with my eyes

All of those and none of them

Are viewed with these eyes of mine

And knowing of me will never be ours

Until knowing knows itself

When these verse are of your voice

And of a choir are made these rhyme

I've been lonesome for as long as I know

A barren soul houses us all

Though the hue of my vision is distorted

I long for when I meet you outside

This shell can be traveled through

But be wary of what is your method

Gentleness will only do

What we want in the beginning and after

So lonesome for a long time no more



Copyright (c) Joshua Packard 2004

Read more of Joshua's lyrics at JRPSongs.
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Strings (Poetry)

10/27/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
February 19, 2008

Strung up too tight
Stretched too far
Coiled up, thrown away
And shown the door
Pulled my strings
Left them in knots
Then let them go…

Pulled in all directions.
My heartbeat stops
My skin goes cold
And my head goes blank

Strung up too tight
Stretched too far
Coiled up, thrown away
And shown the door
Pulled my strings
Left them in knots
Then let them go…

Pulled my strings
Threw me in a corner
The dunce hat on my head
You and all your friends
Threw rotten scraps to me
They were all stale and cold

I reached for you.
But you were far away
The Chains were too tight
You showed me the floor
You yanked my heart
Then squeezed it tight
You made it burst…

Chained up so tight
Stretched too far
Coiled up, thrown away
And shown the door
Pulled my chains
Tied them in knots
Then let them go…

My Eyes so blind
I see a bridge too far
I, torn up, bashed aside
My life flashed, before my eyes…

I somehow crossed that bridge
Was shown the love of a pure heart
My pain is salved now, the past is gone
I lay wrapped up in a new love

I have found the deliverance
From that elusive significant other
And you’re left alone with your own chains
Dragging you down to your deserved hell…

Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2002-2008

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Mr. Good Guy (Poetry)

10/27/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
There I go again

Dancing to my theme song

I'm such a wondrous hero

Righting all the wrong

Only to discover

A twist or a turn in the plot

Another mystery to uncover


I'm Mr. Good Guy

Here to entertain and appease

Please keep me on reruns

I'd like a little more exposure please

Let's end this season on a cliffhanger

Let's give the yuppies a tease.


Here for a few more laughs

Only to be shut up

By the network's cancellation

How rude of them, to override me

Another corny hero show-off

They're calling me


Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2004
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Dream Montage (Poetry)

10/26/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture


No blood flow to my head

Drowsiness just a way of life

But here comes a thought

That I wish to write about

My dreams are acted out

Like a collage of movie scenes 

A dream montage

Keeping my head up

Pretty much impossible

What was that I was dreaming again?

So much like life inside

When my head plays it out

Then I forget so much back here

Place where the rules of nature

Need not apply in any way

Words can be so clumsy

In dream things can be 

So much more clearly stated



Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2004
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Drunk on a Melody (Poetry)

10/26/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture


The words slip off my tongue

There isn't a single thought

Going through this cranium

May I belong in a sanitarium?



Damn I'm drunk on a melody

Can't erase it, can't change it

The tune just keeps playing

The Devil's mistress

She keeps pressing the button

This horrid racket

Won't leave my soul alone



Sixes turn to nines

Right turns to left

At simple addition

I'm becoming inept



Drunk on a melody

Can't erase it, can't change it

The tune won't stop repeating

The Devil's mistress

She keeps jamming the switch

This horrid racket

Left forever playing by that bitch




Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2004

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Create (Poetry)

10/25/2014

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by Richard Rowell, Write W.A.V.E. Media Staff
Picture
Photo credit: Morguefile.com free photo
May 6, 2014

To create
There is no not
It is only ever
A matter of what

Not a when
For I always
Wish to create
But what to do

How and why
These reasons
Always elude me
And for who?

Do I create
Only for me
Or do I create
Simply to create?




Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2014

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Stanzas of Seven (Poetry)

10/25/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Trying to get back my poetic mojo in early 2014, "Stanzas of Seven" is about my strange propensity to write seven-line stanzas. While I don't always aim for that particular structure, it happens more often than not in a lot of my work. So I decided to sort of dedicate these verses to this quirk found in so much of my poetry.

January 5, 2014


These stanzas of seven
When paragraphs fail me
Are a sort of heaven
For my self-expression
I didn't want to be a poet
Any longer, no more
Yet here I am again

These stanzas of seven
Are a bit of a form
Rhyme scheme is optional
But there must be structure
Some sort of order
To bring these thoughts 
Together in some fashion

I cannot shut down
And let my thoughts
Burden me any further
I am missing something
There is a great emptiness
That I do not know
Quite how to fill

I only know one remedy
But it is not perfect
I cannot pretend to hide
That I am lonely and afraid
That I will never be 
Anything, anyone of consequence
Any more than a rambling fool

These stanzas of seven
May be my last hope
To brainstorm away
For a solution to this
Malaise that won't go away
This suffering lack of purpose
For a faltering artist



Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2014

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Is There a Theme? (Poetry)

10/25/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
January 5, 2014

Can I write to a theme?
Can I reflect on these words
And give you a reason
Beyond they needed to be written?

Are these reflections on life?
Or are they just pretty words?
I do not know what they are
They simply are what they are

Is there a theme to whatever I write?
Maybe there is to you, but I
Am not one to openly classify
I simply produce what I do



Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2014

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Chalk Dust (Poetry)

10/25/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Sidewalk chalk
Photo credit: Morguefile.com free photo
Smoke trailing the nuclear rocket
Ahead's his palace and it’s gonna sock it
High tech bombers gonna chalk it up
Watch the fireworks, two thumbs up

What kinda world we livin' in?
To dreadfully punish every lil' sin
We make mistakes the moment we begin
Sit back & realize these are our kin

Every thing a deadly plan
Always trying to widen the span
Of what we believe as freedom for all man
But we only take as much as our players can

Then bring in the weapons of mass destruction
Seeing starting over here as better construction
And while democracy does serve its function
Warped minds can use it for dysfunction



Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2002-2012
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I Heard Her Cry; Did You? (Poetry)

10/24/2014

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by Lyn Lomasi; Owner of Intent-sive Nature & the Brand Shamans network
Picture
I  heard her cry as they crumpled their papers
Scattering them over her beautiful floor
I heard her cry as they cut down 10 trees
Then, hundreds and thousands more

I heard her cry as they polluted her waters
With paper, plastic, oil, and cans
I heard her cry as they used that same water
To clean off their dirty hands

I heard her cry as they disturbed the animals
To build structures that polluted her sky
I heard her cry as they kept on going
Without even stopping to say hi.

I heard her cry as she realized their thoughts
Were not of her beauty and wondrous sights
I heard her cry as she fell apart
So they could rise to 'greater' heights

I heard the Earth cry as they paid her no mind
Too busy tending to their daily chores
Did you hear her cry too from all of her strife
Or were you one of those closing their doors?

---

This poem is pretty much self-explanatory. Those familiar with some of my poetry and articles may know that nature and taking care of the Earth is a passion of mine. Sometimes people get so caught up in their normal routine that they don't think about the Earth. There are many things people do, not realizing (or sometimes not caring) just how much impact it has on the planet. I often wish more people would open their doors to an eco-friendly change, so that the Earth might last longer.

Will they? What do you think?

*I originally published this via Yahoo Contributor Network
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Invisible Me (Poetry)

10/24/2014

1 Comment

 
by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Image (c) Lyn Lomasi; All Rights Reserved
September 28, 2014

When you look
What do you see
A shell of someone
Or the invisible me
The one no one
Else seems to see
How am I such
A beautiful sight
For you to behold
I cannot say
But I do not care
As long as you
Love and adore
The invisible me


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2014


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Sights (Poetry)

10/24/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Image (c) Lyn Lomasi; All Rights Reserved
Oh, those pretty lights
Spotlighting those petty fights
Keep us wake on those long nights
Guiding our planes on their nightly flights

Oh, the sights
Oh, these plights
The nights, the blights
Which remain in my memory
Lord, did I just have an epiphany?

Oh, those street lights
Trying to prevent crashing frights
But never enough to save us
From Insanity's might
Leaving us in shambles
On this lonely night

Oh those sockets
Eye popping rockets
Taking off at light speed
A mess of photons is all we need
To see the destruction
The widespread reduction
Of Intelligence
The worldwide spread
Of Ignorance

Sights, of the plight
Stop, at the light
Flashing, end of the fight
No one's looking though,
Only if we see the light
Can our wrongs become right?

Oh, all of the sights,
Oh, all of these plights
All the nights, all the blights
Which remain in my memory
Lord, did I just have an epiphany?



Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2002


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Whisper (Poetry)

10/24/2014

2 Comments

 
by Lyn Lomasi; Owner of Intent-sive Nature & the Brand Shamans network
Picture
Image © Lyn Lomasi; All Rights Reserved
The following is a poem that I wrote after awaking in the middle of the night. Perhaps it means something to someone out there.

---

A whisper faintly heard
Through miles of forests and land
Calling for just a simple
Touch of a longing hand
Blowing through the breeze
A voice that's louder still
Yet does anyone even hear
One; staring from the windowsill
Whispering back faintly
Behind window pane and trees
Yet the whisper carries
Floating amid the breeze


*I originally published this via Yahoo Contributor Network
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Sickening Madness (Poetry)

10/23/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Image (c) Lyn Lomasi; All Rights Reserved
January 5, 2014

Thoughts they spin round my mind
Leaving me dizzy and nauseous
Constant bursts of creativity
Gone as quickly as they come
Promising a bright new future
But only leaving me wanting
Dazed, befuddled, and heartbroken

I see vast landscapes
Creatures of imagination
Beautiful beyond description
But I cannot draw them for you
I cannot tell you in words
What they mean to me
These characters of mine

This creative concoction
Brings me down so far
Into a sickening madness
Hours upon hours I lay
Trying to calm the storm
But I cannot find a peace
Until I can right my mind

Crashing and burning
My dreams constantly churning
Passions seems to come and go
Suddenly and urgently to and fro
But there is only one constant
The moonlight beckons me to a calm
The sickening madness to subside

Still I fall into darkness
Time after time for hours
Laying in a dreary mood
Wondering if I'll ever succeed
In sharing my world with others
Will it ever make sense
What is it I must share?

There are too many details
Too many worlds to explore
Too many stories to tell
Too many secrets to bare
It all exists inside my head
And now I have become lost
And sick with a trembling madness


Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2014

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Middle of Somewhere (Poetry)

10/23/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Image (c) Lyn Lomasi; All Rights Reserved
Start listening to the wind
Feeling the warmth rescind
Start watching the signs
Lost in the middle of nowhere
Getting dark, gaining fear
What is the reason for 
Being all the way out here?

But this nowhere must be 
Somewhere, you must see
In some certain direction
There must be some redemption
For a lonely, tired soul
Weary of wandering and
Left neglected in the cold



Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2005



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Melody (Poetry)

10/22/2014

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by Phoenix A. Desertsong, Staff Writer, Healer & Advocate
Treble clef
Photo credit: Pixabay, Public Domain
March 28, 2006

She whistles, she hums
Alone in her dead square room
If you gave her an orchestra
She would compose the greatest symphony
She is mad, but also sad
Disappointed with narrow minds
And tunnel vision


Music is her life
She knows nothing else 
Dreams nothing else
Her emotions speak out
As different pieces 
In a band
She has difficulty conducting


If she could find harmony 
In these voices
If she could unify this 
Chorus of discordant passions
She would be the greatest 
Composer to ever live
Oh, sweet Melody...



Copyright (C) Phoenix Desertsong 2006

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Crystal Blue (Poetry)

10/22/2014

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by Richard Rowell; Co-owner of Brand Shamans & Write W.A.V.E. Media
Picture
Photo credit: Pixabay, Public Domain
2005

Crystal blue eyes

I do empathize
With every tear
You cry, and I sigh
Wonder if it's all
Going to be worth
All the time you spent

I saw the innocence
Fade away as years
Just ticked away
Too much to do
Too little time
The stress ate away
What was left of your soul

Don't give that
You're not strong
Blind to the truth
That's what's wrong
Do what's best for you
Not what people say
Do what's best for today

The here and now
Matters the most
You can't worry
About the future
The world keeps changing
Perspectives fading
Ignorance breeding

Crystal blue eyes
Where is the joy
Which I most loved
Don't let it go
What makes you alive
The spirit inside
Can't commit suicide

Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2005

'Crystal Blue"  is  a poem of solemn self-reflection. It was partially inspired by the song "Behind Blue Eyes" by the Who.
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