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sunset stretched
out like deer hide
dipping the fields and
mountains in orange
the violet sky holding up
stars by her fingertips
sending the moon on the
back of the wind

foul things

don’t spit them out
chew on your words
if they don’t taste sweet
across your tongue
don’t spit them out
at another’s feet
only fools munch on
the sharp blades of foul things
and believe them to be
valuable tools worth bringing
to dinner tables
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: edible


fox eyes – pearly gleams
their white bellies and red fur
warm up our dreams –
we leap into the wet, green
night air around us
running through the thoughts
streaming – the longer we
count the ripples rolling across
water, the more they seem
to be seams unwinding,
until they still – they steal our minds,
and for a moment – a small, solitary second
we found the corner where Night and Dreams meet
before they embrace, walk away,
letting us fallĀ into a
weightless sleep

carefully written

Poet's Corner

i imagine our Gods
write and send
letters, notes, papers, and art
out into the universe

View original post 48 more words

death, life

life fails to exist
to those walking in death –
or is death a life simply resisting
returning to the world?
savoring a long, long moment
in the quiet – one we
always longed for but
could never achieve in
the life we wake up for –
but limits us in what we
can perceive beyond
Everything, or even the Nothing
that takes breaking our minds
emptying them out, and sending
them Somewhere, or even Nowhere
where the divine supposedly keep
our lives written on scrolls
as we sleep

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: savor

courage like the feathered

birds do not require
adrenaline to walk
tight ropes above our heads
or to fly into the sun
and yet we need
that and more, just to
shut the door
when we know
but refuse to accept
what’s done is done
we always sink lower
when we could let go
and fly higher

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: moxie

cold fires

breathe in cold night stars
let them journey far below
falling into our hearts
never truly ours
so we settle for fireflies in jars