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-E Dec 2017
Love isint blind..
Love just ignore the fualts..
Until the faults cover the whole page.

Some will love you for who you were.
Some will believe they can erase the ink.

But most will leave and find a blank page ,rewrite their story.

But no one seems knows they could just turn the page. Because thats just a chapter of their life.

And most pages are emty waiting for you to change the story's end..
-E
Poetic T Dec 2017
Sod the fumigated thoughts
that were meant to be
                           reflected upon.

My original attention couldn't
be spayed upon, like it was
              cockroaches of originality.

I'll crawl upon every blank lyric,
that seeds every page with my
                         worded heart beat.

Never can my words be confided
to the delusions of others
                      repetitive replications.
Maria Etre Dec 2017
It is only
when a writer
is broken
that ink spills
from her cracks
to fall on paper
For full entry: https://indiedoodles.wordpress.com/2017/12/06/cracked/
Nylee Nov 2017
I
am
going
to
get
lost
on
this
page
as
you
scroll
down.

Lyn-Purcell Nov 2017
Pen
Your fingers are pens on a page
on an autumn day.
Short poem, but sensual to a degree.
Haruharu Oct 2017
A blank new page.

Staring, wondering.

What should my next chapter be?

Where do I go from here?

The blank pages have no answers.

The pencil is trembling in my hand.

I take a deep breath as I write

Now live.
Cynthia Jan 2015
I have so much to say
But nowhere to start (Sigh)
A blank page full of dreams and nonmaleficence.
Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
LightShade Sep 2017
    *   *
She keeps re-reading her book

And recites the page about him

She no longer has the will to see the end

Now make her believe

Free her from the pain

Let her see the sentence

Beyond the sheet

Help her flip the
p
a
  g
   e
Flip it
Crystal Freda Sep 2017
She inhaled the sweet smells
of the soft, crisp, summer winds.
She touched the pink shells
on the white, coral sands.
She grabbed her pad
and retrieved her blue pen.
She began to add
words to her starting poem.
She described the ocean
as blue as a bird's feathers.
She watched the waves motion
in a brisk yet calming way.
She wrote and wrote
as the wind blew the pages
She noticed a small boat
hitting against the waves.
She finished her write
and felt an amazing feeling.
She knew it would be a great night
for a calm, breezy walk.
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