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Where have all the Unicorns gone ?
     the sun is down, in the on and off rain

"They were here just a memory ago"

The night is on. . . in maximum
The stars hiding behind
Blankets of cold clouds
. . . have nothing to say

"The Unicorns never have to pay ,
just go on their way ,
grazing by the sea Eternity "

Inside I am gazing
into the emptiness of the night
Wondering ,"Where has all the magic gone ?"
. . . away on the backs of the Unicorns
 Feb 2015 Frecky Rosa
ryn
)
       o    (              (             (                  
O   )     (                      )        
            )                (      o
    (              (      (                       O  
   )     o              )   O       )        o
(    O              (     o      (         ) 
)    o                              )    (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•
They're all jesters on your path.

Unbeknownst to you
Light up only the wrong way.

Success is a slow poison
Wealth a carnage
Fame a fatality
And pride the hell’s peak
From where is only one way

Down.

Now there was no applause
As the King saying thus

Put down his crown.
 Feb 2015 Frecky Rosa
Alexis
Distance
Is not just about being miles apart.

Distance
Can be about
Being a road away from each other
Yet never having the chance to meet.

Distance
Is not just about different time zones.

Distance
Can be about
Chatting online everyday
But replying with only "yes", "no", or "k".

Distance.
It hurts more
When you're so near
Yet so far.
It terrifies me that we only get a limited amount of time with people. And that some people get more time than others who should have. I’m forever envious of those who’ve gotten more time with you than I have. That I may never get to be with you as long as they have. That our time is running out. And I miss you already. And I never want to say goodbye. At first it was slow, late nights in your car and afternoons in my bedroom. But now it feels like it’s happening all at once, like you’re doing a snow angel on my heart and it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Kissing on the sidewalk, holding hands in your coat pocket because I forgot to bring gloves. Wandering around museums and having hard conversations on your couch that make me love you even more; even when the air becomes glass, I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I feel to know you. That there’s no one else like you. My heart aches in your arms and aches when we’re apart. And I just want to be as close to you as possible, for as long as possible, because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I love who I am when I’m with you.
"If some people like your painting, fine.
If some don't, well, there's the door.

Take your work seriously
But don't take yourself seriously

Paint for yourself
Enjoy yourself"

I was watching a show on PBS today
"The Beauty of Oil Painting" with Gary & Kathwren Jenkins

Gary said this and I marveled at how much this echoed the attitude we should cultivate when writing poetry.
I think we could also consider writing poetry as a painting of sorts
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