My cousin and I are friends, the deepest of friends.We do have pen names, hers being Z.O.Z. , mine being O.B. We enjoy writing poetry, here are two letters that have a lot of poetic quality.
O.B.
I am in, how do you say it, a bright frame of mind.
So much awaits us, if we only reach out our hands to grasp it.
Such ideas... such triumph! Forgive me, my thoughts wander... Have you ever noticed how beautiful words look as they form on paper? They grow under the tip of my pen... Like flowers blooming brightly beneath a shower of rain. When I live a day in my life, I want it to be worthwhile.
I want each day to be productive. I want each day to be blooming with the flowers of spring.
I'm sorry, my thoughts are vague and obscure. Perhaps you can decode them, with a mind as deep and poetic as yours. I enjoy our talks... I shall speak to you again soon.
Z.O.Z.
Z.O.Z.
Your mind is a beautiful picture, frame it in modesty, the brightest joy, and pure love.
The love that is within your heart of hearts. I feel as if the horizon is so far away, but really I am a silhouette against the golden sky. Atop a hill I stand, not of sand, but of rocky land.
Oh, ideas roll over my mind, like the tide rolls over a reef.
My thoughts usually wander, but why stop them? There's no telling where they'll take you. It maybe a long and tedious trip, but our pilgrimage will end, and our earned reward will be delivered.
Yes, words look so becoming on paper. Like frost on the individual blades of grass. They look like glass.
Like two pieces of metal being welded together under a shower of sparks. Or a newly wed couple coming down the chapel steps, being showered with rice.
My mind is like a gurgling creek. It bubbled and foams, it flows around bend after bend.
Words, paper, pencil, my hand, and my flying carpet, oh they skip merrily together, my carpet's tassels turning my hand, which directs my pencil across this paper, creating ideas from mere WORDS.
I would surely be an inkblot on the surface of humanity if I was unable to express myself thru words.
Words give meaning to our feelings, giving them names and shapes, so we can express our emotions thru them.
I too wish to be of service along this pilgrim way!
I want each day of mine to be full of truth. Full of goodness, glory and righteousness.
I can relate, my friend, poetical 'nonsense' , is my specialty. Vague and obscure are my cousins, we go hand in hand in hand, frolicking the whole day in verse.
Hasta luego.
O.B.
O.B.
I am in, how do you say it, a bright frame of mind.
So much awaits us, if we only reach out our hands to grasp it.
Such ideas... such triumph! Forgive me, my thoughts wander... Have you ever noticed how beautiful words look as they form on paper? They grow under the tip of my pen... Like flowers blooming brightly beneath a shower of rain. When I live a day in my life, I want it to be worthwhile.
I want each day to be productive. I want each day to be blooming with the flowers of spring.
I'm sorry, my thoughts are vague and obscure. Perhaps you can decode them, with a mind as deep and poetic as yours. I enjoy our talks... I shall speak to you again soon.
Z.O.Z.
Z.O.Z.
Your mind is a beautiful picture, frame it in modesty, the brightest joy, and pure love.
The love that is within your heart of hearts. I feel as if the horizon is so far away, but really I am a silhouette against the golden sky. Atop a hill I stand, not of sand, but of rocky land.
Oh, ideas roll over my mind, like the tide rolls over a reef.
My thoughts usually wander, but why stop them? There's no telling where they'll take you. It maybe a long and tedious trip, but our pilgrimage will end, and our earned reward will be delivered.
Yes, words look so becoming on paper. Like frost on the individual blades of grass. They look like glass.
Like two pieces of metal being welded together under a shower of sparks. Or a newly wed couple coming down the chapel steps, being showered with rice.
My mind is like a gurgling creek. It bubbled and foams, it flows around bend after bend.
Words, paper, pencil, my hand, and my flying carpet, oh they skip merrily together, my carpet's tassels turning my hand, which directs my pencil across this paper, creating ideas from mere WORDS.
I would surely be an inkblot on the surface of humanity if I was unable to express myself thru words.
Words give meaning to our feelings, giving them names and shapes, so we can express our emotions thru them.
I too wish to be of service along this pilgrim way!
I want each day of mine to be full of truth. Full of goodness, glory and righteousness.
I can relate, my friend, poetical 'nonsense' , is my specialty. Vague and obscure are my cousins, we go hand in hand in hand, frolicking the whole day in verse.
Hasta luego.
O.B.
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