2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 9

For today’s prompt, write a shady poem. I’ll leave the interpretation of this prompt up to you. It could be a poem that includes shadows and/or shading. It could be about a shady part of town or a shady person. Or well, something else.

Here’s my attempt:

“Shady spot”

Beneath every tree
is a shadow ready
to keep a reader and
book safe from the bright sun
on a lazy summer
day when the whole world
just wants a gentle breeze
to chase the heat away.


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425 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 9

  1. shann

    Silhouettes on the Shade

    fills the room over and over,
    45 rpm stuck in replay set,
    mom and dad argue about
    cigarettes (nobody bought any)
    dig through the kitchen trash
    for butts long enough for a puff.

    They don’t notice the music
    or me, under the piano reading
    a science fiction paperback
    to the steady pace of shouting,
    fear of being noticed, or worse,
    of becoming the next target.

    Stay in the shadows, little girl,
    time will pass and so will they.
    Blame may follow all your life,
    but try to stay a step ahead,
    and it’ll fade way before you,
    like a song from an old movie.

  2. ceeess

    Arizona Shadows on an Eastern Canada Wall

    Three Kokopellis dance above my desk
    one faces east and two southwest
    each casts not one shadow but three
    a trick of light and shade upon the wall
    and none really dancing at all

    their hair slicked back in cock-rooster combs
    bodies perforated with swirls and suns
    and snaking squiggles, flutes raised
    as if to play in tune, notes not heard
    and yet they blow and blow

    what tune would they play,
    how many flutes in time,
    would there be three,
    or maybe there’d be nine?

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 9, 2012

  3. lionmother

    I’m very late posting this, but it was one of those days yesterday!

    Sol y Sombre ( Sun and Shade)

    We bought tickets for the
    middle of the arena where
    the hot sun burned when we first arrived
    but they assured us the shade would soon
    be there and the bullfight would be mostly
    in the shade for the rest of the afternoon

    We took our seats on the hard stone
    and purchased a thin cushion to
    soften the hours we would sit
    unsure of what we would see
    awaiting the parade of the
    matadors, resplendent in their
    gold trimmed, embroidered

    Then the bull advanced
    we were still in the hot sun
    when the picadors shoved
    their sharp picks into the
    flesh of the innocent bull
    as he attempted to run
    from the horsemen
    flailing his horns around

    The matador strode in
    with his scarlet lined cloak
    and faced the bull with
    hidden sword
    The crowd shouted “Ole”
    as he skirted past the
    deadly horns and reduced
    the bull to a confused mess

    And then, when the shade
    had descended over us
    the moment of truth
    came and we watched
    the matador
    sword now extended
    slice into the
    magnificent head of the
    outstanding bull and
    my eyes filled with tears
    as the now shrunken
    carcass of the bull was
    escorted out of the arena
    to the cheers of the crowd
    while the matador presented
    the ear to the lucky onlooker
    who had captured his heart.

  4. Yolee

    When the Moon Slips Behind the Haunches of a Celestial Body

    Shadows drink the light of marriage.
    Spirits nearly vanish in each other
    between the seasons of fall

    and halleluiah, leaving some
    beds that love built unoccupied.
    Though the walk is off-balance,

    If you cross the penumbra,
    the sound of single-minded footsteps
    will rise in the East
    and support new psalms.

  5. Katrin

    The poem’s shadow
    began as a line
    a simple delineation
    of ordinary/extraordinary
    in the everyday morning

    And as the day grew older,
    after its dancing lessons,
    and afternoon nap,
    the poem became
    Lear’s shadow, the Fool–
    Clever, biting, loving
    to an old monarch

    And, after dinner,
    the shadow began its laboring,
    stretching the poem
    like taffy from one
    side of the prairie to
    the other, without losing a single word,
    expanding its imagery
    into lengthy diatribes
    against verse verbosity
    then, as its shady power swelled,
    returned to the point, the poem’s subject,
    the darkness in light
    the light in darkness
    and all the in-betweens,
    woven tightly into a shimmering braid,
    snipped off and slipped
    into an envelope filled
    with pressed violets and
    their slumbering dark

  6. Uma


    Skin of her baby was smooth, she rubbed almond oil
    felt warmth on her fingers. She took her breast
    that swelled with milk to his lips, pressed them open gently.

    The child got heavier each day, never opened eyes;
    the milk overflowed and stained her robe. She held
    the child close and rocked in grief, ball of pain in her chest

    from the nine months that she bore in her womb watching
    the life that was filling in, limbs emerging only to be laid to rest
    in an unnamed grave. Forgotten, claiming no lineage and family.

    (I interpret ‘shade/shady’ as ‘out of light’, ‘in darkness’. The poem is on the love child of David and Bathsheba, who was cursed to die the seventh day of his birth, for the sins of adultery of his parents. David’s journey of atonement and healing is narrated in the text, the grief of the mother is left for us to imagine and create.)

  7. De Jackson

    Argh. Found a typo in my poem. Here it is, corrected:


    She tries to stay within
    the well-lit precincts of herself
    but sometimes curiosity (poor
    kitty) beckons, or the tides
    tug at her heart just right, or
    she’s had too much coffee or she’s
    just plain had enough
    and every once in awhile
    (okay, a little more often than
    she accidently
    (on purpose)
    stretches over the line
    ( j u s t a l i t t l e f a r t h e r n o w )
    dips her toe
    in her own shadow.

  8. Jane Beal - sanctuarypoet.net


    Infinity. Impossibility. Reflection.
    The regular divisions of a plane:

    all the etchings and sketchings of your brain, Escher,
    the fish and the birds that go on forever,

    the geckos, the angels and devils, the Chinaman
    who cartwheels out of a checkerboard pattern,

    the books that become buildings,
    the table that becomes a street,

    the waterfall that flows upward,
    the labyrinth of stairs that never ends,

    your wife’s face made of orange ribbon,
    your own face made of ribbon,

    then entwined with the ribbon of a face
    that was yours in youth,

    your body in a glass ball
    held by your own hand—

    two hands, each drawing
    the other.

    Jane Beal

  9. suzibee


    Nothing looms bigger in the mind
    than at 3AM when all is dark
    all is quiet
    all in shadow
    Comes the dawn
    the light shines
    the mind quiets
    and everything looks smaller
    (or at least manageable)

  10. RJ Clarken


    “…wondered why I’m not the guy/whose silhouette’s on the shade…” ~Frank C. Slay Jr. and Bob Crewe, Silhouettes

    Say what you will. Perhaps I’m dull;
    a bit naïve or gullible.
    I trusted you and that was wrong.
    My story’s why I write this song.

    You cheated, ‘though you said you cared.
    With someone else, your love you shared.
    This farce, I don’t wish to prolong.
    My story’s why I write this song.

    One night I chanced to come by late.
    Was it misfortune? Karma? Fate?
    Emotions filled me, oh so strong.
    My story’s why I write this song.

    The jail cell’s where my song must end
    for crimes committed. Can’t pretend
    the shadows knew it all along.
    My story’s done; now so’s this song.


  11. Charles Cote


    I am you and not you,
    casted, subservient
    negation of you. I am
    grey standing you,
    blocking the light,
    nothing and you,
    hyperbolic and wane,
    discreet, receding,
    brash toward oblivion,
    enigmatic and clear,
    the you I am, not you.

  12. Jaywig

    No time to read everypone else’s today and missing the lovely swell of poetic voice through my day.

    Never mind, here’s my “shady” contribution

    Day 9 – shady

    It was all gravel and pockmarked
    flower beds when we arrived.
    For years my mother hated
    the orange invasion by marigolds.

    The irises, unfortunately, were strangled
    by couch grass, and the young man
    swearing he loved gardening
    did not come back to relocate them.

    But I have watched the shade-makers
    claim victory in this back yard
    claim it, wave its tattered flag messages
    to the sky scudding with questions.

    They greet me, wave excited arms when
    rosellas alight, chatter, and honeyeaters
    feast. And teach me no plant is
    an island, they grow together.

  13. stylib38

    Ah this is my very first posting except for a bravo or two

    in the Shade of a true friend
    I go to find a place of rest
    Free from the wilting heat of pretense
    the blinding glare of criticism
    the burning rays of expectations
    and find there the cool breeze of acceptance

  14. Khara H.

    Shady roots

    Today my shade is the burnt leather
    face of an old boot.

    I have known soft wet clay
    and dewy dirt–and the wet of palm
    pressing soft into earth flesh, reaching for the pit of me
    buried deep–and ancient as cypress roots.

    Today I am shadow and creeping fog
    growing in light.

    Find me in peeling, searing skin–rich as gold,
    red as sin, blue as ancient robes
    hemmed from sky corners.

    Today I am generations,
    germinated in a seed of night.

  15. Marjory MT


    Hurry,hurry, have a date.
    What to ware, can’t be late.

    Reject the pink, reject the blue,
    reject the green, what can I do?

    Reject the jeans, also the T,
    reject what all is just not me.

    The velvet sheath, the blouse with lace,
    Neither one will make first base.

    Oh, No, he’s here, I see him stand,
    I’ll have to go just as I am.

    But see his smile that says a lot,
    ‘Just as I am”, he’ll reject not.

    1. Marjory MT

      that was yesterday’s(Sunday’s) prompt..
      Must reflect SHADES of my memory,

      Hummm, what rhymns with memory?

      Maybe …Celery.

      Better stop – it’s late.
      In fact while we in the West are still in today,
      while You in the East are in my Tomorrow.
      I will come back when today’s tomorrow becomes today.

  16. Egnar T. Seinnhoj

    Last Call with a Showgirl Concubine [Sonnet]

    In shapeless lands of dance and pearly skin
    A waiter pours a voluntary drink
    A ginger whiskey glass of ice and gin
    And soon my lover pauses not to think
    She grips and stains the rim; a lovely kiss
    and gently slides her wedding band away
    She smiles from the corner of her lips
    With beauty more than I could ever say
    Our eyes collide a final time before
    She claws me with her lightly tinted voice
    “How would you like to walk me to my floor?”
    I swooned her “Love, there is no better choice.”
    She bit her lip, I wished to bite it to
    A concubine, a wife; my number two.

  17. Rosangela

    Gray Mind

    I feel swamped
    by this shady prompt.
    Without a shadow of a doubt,
    this is beyond
    my creative route.
    My words bond
    with blue and bright
    and this shadow thing
    has no light.
    Gray, blind,
    shadows into my mind.

  18. Sheryl

    This is a partially found poem I wrote when groping for an idea.

    The Shady Poet

    This shady poet took credit
    for lines he only found. John Shade
    was not his name.

    After all, truth is blue, but what shade?
    Who knows who said that?
    He did of course.

    A shade upon the mind there passes
    when he took Emily Dickinson’s
    thoughts to be his own.

    When spring comes back with
    rustling shade his poetry would
    be famous. Alan Seeger? Who is he?

    Memory is difficult for him now,
    Oh shade of Anna Akhimatova:
    the shade of a poem.

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  19. JanetRuth


    your shadow
    lies twixt
    and parchment
    where thought
    cannot transfer
    from ink
    so tonight
    I will settle
    for you and me…
    simply shadow art
    upon my heart~

  20. tunesmiff


    Ain’t no way I’ll ever make a living,
    If I’m lucky I just may make a life.
    I guess I’ll have to go and keep my day job,
    If I’m gonna keep my wife.

    I drive a rusty, beat up Chevy S-10,
    I think the wheels are almost square.
    It ain’t fancy transportation,
    But it always gets me there.

    This may not be my season in the sun;
    But at least I’m having a little bit of fun…
    Got it made…
    In the shade…

    I wet a line from time to time,
    And I wet my whistle, too.
    There’s not a lot of things I want,
    Or folks to tell me what to do.

    And this may not be my season in the sun,
    But at least I’m having a little bit of fun…
    Got it made…
    In the shade.

    Some nights I go out back with my old guitar,
    And sit beneath the stars and bend a string…
    And some nights I come down to this bar,
    And sit up here a little while and sing…

    And this may not be my moment in the sun;
    In fact the odds I’ll make it big are slim to none,
    But I got it made…
    In the shade…

    Got it made…
    In the shade.

  21. JanetRuth

    By the way…Thank-you Robert. I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is fire up the computer to see what’s new ….here! You are truly amazing…in spite of what Buddah Mosk. may think…wink. I left my thoughts on his blog :):) Also enjoying learning on your MNINB Blog. Thank-you again and I apologize for not saying anything sooner!

  22. JanetRuth

    I am content
    In the shadow of your love
    For your thought in mine
    Fits like a glove


    A shadow may lead
    Or follow behind
    But it never strays from
    The discourse of the mind


    A shadow sprawled towards the west
    Means dawn is crawling from its nest
    A shadow lengthened to the east
    Means soon another day has ceased


    A shadow is merely an echo
    Of hard matter existence
    When your shadow touches mine
    I offer no resistance


    Today the north wind
    Jeers and laughs
    Tussling tree-shadows
    On the grass


    You and I
    Make beautiful shadows

  23. seingraham

    Casting Shadows

    Yesterday’s a racehorse, retired now
    A thoroughbred with fine lines
    And good breeding still, but out to stud
    No longer running for the roses
    A chiaroscuro of Arabians everywhere
    Whispering fortunes forever
    Framing the future in shades of from before …
    Birthing history in the foals of tomorrow


  24. Kendall A. Bell


    You send your signal through the
    dining room lights, a flicker
    then the dim bulbs suddenly
    blare, suspicious shadows cast
    around corners, hide bookcases and
    the various toys and bones left by
    the dog on the floor. You wait for
    me to turn off the television, then
    move the drapes, send a flash from
    porch lights across the street,
    send a whistle through the vents,
    try to seduce me into following you
    to the basement to shroud me in a
    dark cover, to keep me in your
    otherworldly embrace.

  25. Linda Voit

    The man has potential

    if, when you’re walking west and he’s walking
    east on a sunny afternoon, he stops
    to talk with you, and when you squint,
    he pauses mid-sentence, studies your eyes
    as he tilts his head until he sees his own shade
    relax your face, and then, carries on
    as if he had never paused.

    Linda Voit

  26. Janet Rice Carnahan


    In a spontaneous moment,
    In their otherwise, routine day,
    A sudden change brought them,
    To a new route down to the beach!
    She had noticed an older couple before,
    Carefully putting on their hiking boots,
    Disappearing down a trail,
    They seemed to know.
    Deciding not to stop,
    On that particular day,
    Making a mental note to explore it,
    Hoping for time for it someday!
    In a flash, when the day opened up,
    It was the moment to find something new!
    Locating the parking spot,
    Where she had observed the older couple,
    They parked and headed to the sign,
    Stating to, “Stay on the trail”.
    Walking happily down a steeper path,
    Huge tall vine like plants circled overhead,
    Creating a heavy leafy dense over hang!
    Shadows were everywhere,
    Her mind began to get nervous,
    She worried that people could hide in here,
    They could have ill intent,
    Or shady plans,
    If they jumped out,
    They would be scared crazy,
    What would they do?
    There is no obvious escape.
    When she really sensed the terrain,
    She relaxed more,
    Realizing the fear was responding,
    Like a mirrored dance off the shadows.
    Trusting they were fine,
    A long dangling final vine opened up,
    To a spectacular beach path,
    Like virgin sand,
    Untouched by any human hands!
    Glancing back at the shady dark route,
    They had taken,
    She laughed at the fear of the unknown,
    And how if she had given in,
    They would never had dared,
    To take this fabulous other route,
    Revealing a sandy kind of heaven . . .

    By a welcoming deep blue sea!

  27. maxie2


    An unbroken dawn shields
    her as she labors to market
    with a bucket balanced
    on her head—a bizarre
    balance as her hips sway
    to the rhythm of her sandals
    against the gnarled road.

    Watched by a hooded figure
    in underground style armor
    with his flighty glances
    and nervous movements,
    she hikes up the waist
    of her skirt exposing the lace
    hem of her slip, unaware
    of the stare she now begs.

    From birth she has been unfettered
    by the looks she gathers,
    but she hurries toward the square
    with only one fear—that her stall
    may be taken. Cigarette ashes
    hit the mud as the figure
    eeks past, at last in step
    with her journey.

    He stops short before
    his approach grew louder
    than her humming, realizing
    that he is more afraid of her thoughts
    than she is even aware of him.

  28. cam45237

    Lost on a Walk at Twilight

    Shades and shadows ghost across the meadows
    Grass and green leaves fade toward veiled grey

    Winds and whispers shiver through the tree limbs
    Wings of nightbirds, voices of the Fae

    Curl closer when you find you are the most
    Disturbed by dawning moon and fading day

    In that moment when the two are even
    Mist and mystery come out to play.

    Hold my hand and follow in my footsteps
    Together you and I will find the way.

    To home and hearth and bed and under covers
    Where we’ll be safe, protected, unafraid

  29. deedeekm

    The Red Pot

    Rain and sun
    The perfect mix
    To create a poem
    That will not lay down on paper
    But springs up
    Shyly unfolding tiny green
    Then bolder to the warmth
    Hands in dirt 
    Are more than verbs
    They are Proper Nouns
    That name the something
    I feel as I place
    Roots in the red pot
    I place it
    Where stronger plants
    Will shelter from
    Heat of noon
    And wait 

  30. Melissa Hager


    After a month or so, Grandpa didn’t know
    he even had a bride; much less that
    she had gone home to be with Jesus.
    She had hid his condition well.
    Shaded him from ridicule and worry.
    No one knew it until he asked where Celia was
    about a week after her death.

    Each day he rests in the
    shadows of odiferous hallways
    or in the black passages of his mind.
    Oblivious to who we are or who he is,
    his thoughts are devoid of light.
    Shady Rest is perfectly named.

  31. Jannelee


    We sat in the shade that day
    you and I, heat rose from the sidewalk
    and I gave you the last of my water
    you panted, I stroked your matted fur
    you licked the sweet candy smears
    from my dirty, sticky fingers
    I tucked my knobby knees under my dress
    and you laid your head in my lap
    We sat in the shade you and I
    a cool breeze lifted a wisp of my hair
    I brushed it back and wiped a tear
    from my grimy cheek
    You looked at me with soulful eyes
    that begged me to take you home
    And I knew I would,
    because you must have lost someone
    just like me
    and I knew that daddy
    wouldn’t say no that day
    that day that had started like any other
    with daddy and momma hardly speaking
    he called me from the house
    and we sat in the shade in the front yard
    while momma packed a suitcase
    climbed into the waiting car
    and drove away with one last glance
    at daddy and I sitting in the shade

  32. David Yockel Jr.

    The Midnight Road

    As I walked the Midnight Road,
    I was comforted by a society
    of my shadows. This scattered, angular
    self, born of street lamps,
    porch lights and flashing high beams,
    opens up an inky world
    where I can walk home to a warm
    glass of milk and a dusty bed-side
    table, sleep outside on a pile
    of freshly raked leaves, and gather
    kindling for a lonely fire,
    all without breaking stride.

  33. Arrvada

    Shadow Self

    One side faces the sun
    Embraces the light
    Shows the world all it is
    But where the light hits
    Shadows form
    Creep out, reach out
    Tinging the light with dark
    Slithering in to corrupt the perfect gold
    He shows the world the light
    Ignores the darkness there
    That walks just one step behind
    Waiting to embrace him
    Pull him back inside
    Pull him down and show the world
    He is as dark and wretched as we

  34. Reno

    Where the Woods End

    When the thick ferns, nettle patches,
    shaded umbrella of tall trees,
    are finally behind –
    The carpet of emulsifying pine needles,
    no longer beneath the feet,
    cold air in shadows, gone,
    The forest standing like giants
    with backs turned,
    The strange influence
    of exotic mushrooms, giant spiders,
    all washed away by a vast rush
    of uninterrupted sun rays —
    Sprawling meadow
    made alive beneath torn clouds
    and a bright burst.
    Like everything behind me,
    with you in the fore.

  35. Golden Rule

    The shaded tree

    My mind is stayed on Christ
    The rock in which my foundation is built
    No longer a slave to my thoughts
    Because my mind has been rebuilt.
    I have broken the chains of selfishness
    Out of the pit from which I stood
    I’m no longer blind
    So this day forward I’m gone live with the end in mind.
    Now I can see
    The fullness of your glory
    And the way you make my life complete.
    Cloudy skies
    A rose planted underneath the shaded tree
    But now the Son is out
    And on that tree is where His blood was shed for me

    1. stylib38

      Golden Rule, I like “my mind has been rebuilt”. It doesn’t just happen , it’s a process. work. deliberate
      And “out of the pit from which I stood”

  36. Michael Grove

    Dog, Bird, Goose

    Ok, Ok, It was me. It was always me.
    But, you already knew that. I was
    the one who did it. There was never
    a movie projector that I didn’t get
    in front of. At school, or home
    or grandmas house, I was in the
    light casting shadows on white screens.

    With left palm open and thumb pointing
    up, right hand laid over the top of left
    with right thumb up too. The dog barks as
    as the hinge between middle and ring
    fingers opens and closes repeatedly.

    Thumbs interlocked and four tight
    fingers on each hand waiving the
    bird flies gently across the screen.

    Left hand upright and flattened with
    wrist completely bent over, the thumb
    is in position to do all the squawking.

    By Michael Grove

  37. gtabasso

    For a Bagpiper

    I met you years ago
    when a ring on my finger
    blotted out the sun
    and ringed me pale.
    I danced at my table,
    a Middle Eastern movement
    to a Celtic fiddle
    and won a CD that left
    with the drunk who moved
    on St. Patrick’s Day,
    of all days.

    And, on this St. Patty’s,
    five years later, a friend
    had your song on her Facebook.
    So, I sought for you, dreamed
    of you, listened to your music
    when I woke, as I drove.
    I found we share
    a weeping willow —
    that shade tree that sheds,
    loves water, hates wind,
    sways to the haunting pipes,
    the grief in our voices
    then dances for joy in the sun.

  38. Lana Walker

    One of those songs
    from over The Pond
    in nineteen sixty seven

    A curious verse
    not at all adverse
    shot it under eleven

    Strange rock band
    named not after sand
    but after a Burmese cat

    A court case ensued
    by you know who
    led to a nasty spat

    All hail
    A Whiter Shade of Pale

  39. hurtin-heart

             You don’t know him
     He is not what he seems
    He is a master at the games he plays, he always wins.
    He hides in the shadows
    Lurking about.
    You don’t see him but he’s there.
    I must be careful what i say and do.
    For he’s watching my every move.
    I try to escape but there’s no way out.
    I’m his prisoner there’s no doubt!
    Chains have bound me ,                  to someone
    I thought i knew…how did i not see the truth.
    As the years have passed, nothing’s changed
    Except the knowledge from his mind games.
    He can be your best friend or your worst enemy
    That all depends on you!
    But in his mind things are misunderstood. Will he ever again be the person i once knew.
    I think not…. The person i see now is the person he always was.
    Only now he can’t hide the truth.
    So good-bye to the person i once thought i knew! Hello to the one i’m bound to.
    Shackled and chained in the shadows of a mad man!

  40. Andrea B


    She became his corner-dodger
    an antsy summer shadowboxer

    He never seemed to mind
    her passings by or friendly smiles,

    but her drifts swung uneasy
    as her waves swelled in frequency.

    She feared her agony for him was audible,
    her corner bagel-run scheme barefaced

    Now she tips toe to toe, good chinned,
    a corner-dodger, summer shadowboxer

  41. Michael Grove

    In the Shadow of the Cross

    He had heard the message
    a year earlier and made
    a firm commitment. He
    told himself, “I will listen

    now.” He stood in the shadow
    of the cross and looked
    through it at the rising Sun.
    He was determined do His

    will. He would show the
    world the power of love
    in all its’ glory. In his thirst
    he drank the vinegar

    and tasted the poison. Now
    He walks very slowly in the
    shadows and carries his own
    cross as he seeks the Sunlight.

    By Michael Grove

  42. ellanytdavve

    A Themed Variation

    The branches and leaves
    are spindly shadows
    as the evening sun
    cast them in a dancing show
    on the wall.
    The breezy day comes inside,
    swaying and swirling
    in filigree relief.

    I stare blankly,
    reminded of
    my daily darkness,
    the turns I cannot reverse,
    the roads I cannot retrace,
    knowing someday I’ll see
    the insurmountable.
    Today I’m beset by
    small dramas,
    My fences larger by years.
    As if looking from great distance
    on to each choice and passage,
    the key details filtered,
    zoomed out of first seat
    in my orchestra.
    String section,
    string theory,
    string art
    imitating life
    those shadows.

    The leaves are shimmery
    on the setting-sun wall.
    Breathing is all
    that’s required.
    Nothing is insurmountable.

  43. omavi

    Sheltering From the Light

    Light concealed
    Brightness rejected
    Joy not wanted
    Not even smiles allowed
    Things done in the dark
    Best left simmering
    Slithering underneath mossy rocks
    Soul quaking
    Fearing the revel
    Afraid of the coming sunshine
    Truth becomes the pariah
    That dark hearts
    Try to stay hidden
    Never wanting
    To be bared opened
    And totally exposed


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