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Rebbecca Peninsulari Poems
Blend Right In
They are all stuck up jerks. Though I befriend them all. They talk about themselves. Their lives, their stuff, who's at the small.
Flight of the Macaws
Today I feel like flying past the highest high. Swoop down, turn around and be back to my dwelling place.
Our names could not be spoken in the same statement I was the predator, you the prey. An any day, I forget. You came up to me to say:
Does Anybody Care?
Maybe sometimes I hear my name in the crowd But every time it is not that loud. Whenever I hear a conversation I jump to the conclusion
I am cold and warm happy and sad tall and short loved and hated
Lost and Alone
Writing stories by the hour. Composing emails and then deleting. Hungry and cold. I'm lost and alone.
Leading The Pack
Pacing in front. Turning around seeing you there I am fine
Comments about Rebbecca Peninsulari
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Blend Right In
They are all stuck up jerks.
Though I befriend them all.
They talk about themselves.
Their lives, their stuff, who's at the small.
When I open up my mouth to reply
they don't even take a glance.
They listen to me?
I blend right in
they complain when I
keep my mouth shut.
Things pay more attention to me, like the sky.
I don't matter.
They are too polite too agree.
But if I realize, I do observe,
can't they feel what's true, can't they see?
I blend right in, I observe.
I know everybody's actions.
Everything I do,
I can ...