Poetry is what surrounds you, the air you breath, the the golden sunset you see, the chirping birds you hear, yet the wind that blows off your clothes such that we see your naked mind.
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Friday, February 3, 2012
simonpoetically: WHENEVER I MEET HER
simonpoetically: WHENEVER I MEET HER: Whenever I meet her on the street When her dove eyes meet mine As they crush the softest part of my heart I wonder loudly What...
simonpoetically: TRIBE-ULTIMATE-BRIBE BREED OF A NATION
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