Plaza Poetry Picks
When you lose someone you love, Your life becomes strange, The ground beneath you gets fragile, Your thoughts make your eyes unsure; And some dead echo drags your voice down Where words have no confidence. Your heart has grown heavy with loss; And though this loss has wounded others too, No one knows what […]....
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For my grandmother My hands lift high a bowl of rice, the seeds harvested in the field where my grandmother was laid to rest. Each rice seed tastes sweet as the sound of lullaby from the grandmother I never knew. I imagine her soft face as they laid her down into the earth, her clothes […]....
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They stroll in a field with no bounds or rein, their traceless steps in luxuriant grass. There are no harps or wings, no cauldrons or flames. Each guest rises equal from a bed of reeds. One leans back on a tree, luminous cloak against counterfeit bark. Another lounges in the perpetual breeze, arm […]....
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Behind the mask of summer sun, the green rush of spring, the peace of winter’s silence, and autumn’s fiery crown there are only moments strung together. Beads on a chain, each as valued as the next; a necklace fashioned of attention to this day. What is gone and what will be are links fingered lightly […]....
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The light snow started late last night and continued all night long while I slept and could hear it occasionally enter my sleep, where I dreamed my brother was alive again and possessing the beauty of youth, aware that he would be leaving again shortly and that is the lesson of the snow falling and […]....
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It is not anything that stopped; but me. It was not Death’s hearse of autumn leaves slowing down to find my Last Testament. If I made the smallest dent, I hope it was with Love. Nothing in this reflective silence is long enough. Nothing stops ticking in order to speak of me. I came into […]....
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Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting […]....
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At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them. At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them. At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them. At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We […]....
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