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The petals last pulse under forgotten echoes of moonlit shadows,
remained in a lavender scented field, soulfully still

The breath of crushed velvet, paired with unnamed galaxies,
bespoke of amethyst daydreams

Woven into them were sighs of silky dust nights,
filled with scorched upheavals

Dancing orchids draped in full bloom,
stirred fiery rains, flowing within air of royal dusk moons

Wisteria hues,
too refined for eggplant plums & hominy hums

Iridescent irises & lilac leaves whispered between
blue lagoons cloaked in filtered rooms

Still, they stand between
midnight dreams & mystical realities
my shot at a longer poem using an impressionistic poetry style and today's WD PAD challenge, "write a color poem"
Joss Lennox Apr 23
The forgotten book—
a dusty shelf, tucked away,
had so much to say.
Writer's Digest Poetry Prompt PAD Challenge of the day, "Write a book poem." I wrote this about finding/coming back to/making time for one's own creativity. Even in small, but purposeful ways. Writing is important to me and even within the busyness of my own world, it's necessary for me to make some time, each week, to do the things I enjoy doing.
Joss Lennox Apr 15
facing deepest truth—
in the belly of the whale
finding purpose there
my attempt at Haiku for Writer's Digest daily poetry prompt writing challenge for April 15, 2025, "Write a poetic form poem and/or anti-form poem." I chose to write about liminal spaces, essentially because, I'm almost drawn to them. Although most of them tend to be nostalgic, eerie, isolating, haunting, confusing or disorienting, I find the transition to be beautiful. There's a sense of hope in uncertainty that I find remarkable in all of us. How we overcome our obstacles and turn them into our victories. They're incredibly inspirational to me. Looking at it from a melancholic view, I think most writers/poets are melancholic, or at least a little cholic (you'll only get this if you're an office fan, maybe not even then). I tend to be drawn to nostalgia or even longing or heartbreak. It's morbid and depressing I guess, but I find loads of learning, inspiration and opportunity there.
Jackson Aug 2015
Just when I thought it was all over,
And I thought I was free,
Carried away from everything that could ever have
Killed me
Someone returned with a key in their hand
Opened the lock and returned me again
Now I am caught, now I will stay, forever just locked away.
Terrible poem. Part one of my thirty poem challenge.

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