I’m Not A Fancy Poet

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I’m not a fancy poet
I don’t have a soul patch nor a beret
Within the confines of each breath
Trying to create a literary bouquet
I merely write how I feel
Without thought to how I’m perceived
No time for such arbitrary notions
True to myself, I know I’ve achieved

Looking Life Dead In The Face

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Looking life dead in the face
Feeling the fresh seaside air
Never backing away from the cliff
Crumbling footholds not to share
Nostalgic tones deepening now
A wish formulated into a drop
Standing tall against the tide
Generous breaths until you won’t stop