Kelly Seale

Rookie (12-17-1958 / Norfolk, Va. USA)

Kelly Seale Poems

1. 'Turquoise Tease' 7/30/2012
2. 'Tinted Glass' 7/31/2012
3. 'You Take My Breath' 7/31/2012
4. 'Touch' 7/31/2012
5. 'So Fine' 7/31/2012
6. 'In The Distance' 7/31/2012
7. 'You'Re A Dream' 7/31/2012
8. 'Fade In...' 7/31/2012
9. 'Fade To Black' 7/31/2012
10. 'The Slasher' 7/31/2012
11. 'The Reckoning - A Continuum For Fade To Black' 7/31/2012
12. 'The Last Poet' 7/31/2012
13. 'Just Kickin' It! ' - A Photographic Essay 7/31/2012
14. 'Dance Of The Sunprincess' 11/8/2012
15. 'Dance On Fire' 1/28/2013
16. 'Smoke' 1/31/2013
17. 'I Reach Under My Pillow' 6/21/2013
18. 'The Bullet That Missed' 6/26/2013
19. 'Porcelain Penguin' 7/7/2013
20. 'To Delete Or Not To Delete? ' 8/18/2013
21. You 8/17/2013
22. 'It's Only A Game' 8/27/2013
23. 'Chasing Amy Winehouse' 8/16/2013
24. 'Wilted Flowers' 7/31/2012
25. 'Innocent Bride' 7/31/2012
26. 'Eleccentricity' 7/30/2012
27. 'Take Me With You' 7/30/2012
28. 'Which Part' 12/13/2012
29. 'Breathing Fire' 4/26/2013
30. 'As Passion Burns...' 5/6/2013
31. 'The Memory Of You' 7/30/2012
32. 'Sunshine's Gift' 11/9/2012
33. 'The Ghost Within Me' 7/30/2012
34. 'Ellie May' 7/30/2012
35. 'The Magic Of Your Eyes' 7/31/2012
36. 'I'Ve Watched You Walk' 7/30/2012
37. 'The Essence' 2/2/2013
38. 'The Color Of Red' 3/30/2013
39. 'Interlude' 7/31/2012
40. 'Mercy' 7/31/2012
Best Poem of Kelly Seale

'A Rose By Anyother Name'

Look at me.
You see yourself as a dandelion,
one of many, and not at all special:
Yet, still considered a flower by some.

In reality, You are a Rose,
deep, rich red, delicate passion pink.
Soft, satiny petals,
And yet, you do have your thorns.
You keep those around you at a distance.
Seemingly to be safe,
but there is nothing to be afraid of.

So look at me...
You are in your prime, your beauty is in full bloom.
Feel it, let it happen, it's become a part of you.
You have such a special gift, in which you deny yourself
the pleasure of ...

Read the full of 'A Rose By Anyother Name'

'Turquoise Tease'

The smells of the Rodeo is always what got to me.
Sawdust and hay, sweat soaked leather, natural animal smells.
Fear.

I walked between fences, there were fancied up cowboys, reciiting; no, chanting to themselves, gearing up for one last hoorah.
'Snap! ' My camera comfortable in my hands, ready for that Pulitzer Prize winning shot.

My eyes noticed an aged man, both physically and spiritually-
His arms adorned with faded tattoos, propped up on the bull's fence, thinking to himself-

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