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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (free e novels .txt) 📖

Book online «The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (free e novels .txt) 📖». Author M.J. Garrett



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How did you…?” I frantically ask.

“You. You let me out. You called me and I came to help you. Just in time, if I do say so myself.”

“What do I do?” My breathing has started to pick up as the realization of my actions become more apparent. “What do I DO?”

“Calm yourself.” He says with a steady deep voice. “Slow your breathing.” As he slowly lifts his hand and points at his temple, I close my teary eyes as I feel the steel of the pistol against the side of my face. Fighting the hypnotic urge to follow him, I hold my breath. Sweat and tears run down my face as my eyes begin to clinch tighter and tighter.

With a broken stutter, I shout “D-D-Don’t d-d-do this to me!!!”

With his face an inch away from mine he softly whispers, “I’m not doing anything. You are the one with the pistol.” The smell of cigarettes fill my nose as his warm breath touches my lips. My mind begins to flash images of all the things I hold dear. The pictures are filled with smiles and laughter. Images of my kids begin to calm my nerves, harnessing them to the point that I can feel the power and calm begin to fill me. I instinctively begin to control my breathing as I slowly pull the gun away from my head and begin to point it at this other version of me. I open my eyes, which are as black as the night, and see my bloody reflection in the mirror. Pointing the gun at the cracked mirror, I smile…knowing that I am now in control. A half grin of confidence begins to show as I see the fear on my reflection. Standing there covered in sweat diluted blood, I begin to squeeze the trigger. With one loud pop from the pistol, my body drops to the dirty floor.

“What do you think happened here?” Officer Rodriguez asked his new training officer as she gently stepped over the lifeless body.

“Suicide?”

“Suicide? What gives you that idea?”

“Well…for one, he’s head is scattered on the wall and he’s holding a handgun covered in blood.”

“Maybe…but this gun was never fired. Careful...that cigarette butt could be our only lead.”


Some dreams are worth having




She sat there inches away from my face. I could smell her hair and see the glitter from her makeup as she conversed with those around the Christmas dinner. It was amazing to see the comfort level she displayed to my friends and family. The crowded table displayed baked ham and turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables of all sort, and chips and dip. There was hardly any room to move or sit because of the crowded tables that filled the screened in porch, but we managed to be a family…at least for this one day. Looking at her there gave me a sense of joy! She had been gone so long and I thought I would never see or hear from her again. But like the prodigal son, she returned…or maybe it was I who returned?

Voices and laughter filled the air as jokes were exchanged and embarrassing stories were shared among those who sat at the tables. Her hand would grab the same chip as mine and I would quickly pull my hand away as her soft skin gently touched me. She would take that same chip and dip it into this amazing cheese dip and demand that she feed it to me. It was like I was in some sort of time warp! How could things not be different after all the time that she had been away? She didn't seem to mind that our knees would touch or that our feet would almost uncontrollably meet. She would put her hand on my arm and leave it there while she told stories of us as kids. "This is unreal" I kept saying to myself.

Her husband came to the table and sat across from us. I asked him if he wanted to sit by her and he said that it's been such a long time away from me and the family that he didn't want to separate us. "Is this really happening?" I kept asking myself. He was nothing like what I thought he would be…but yet, he was exactly what I thought he could be. He dressed himself in a cream colored sweater and his short cropped blonde hair was just like the pictures I've seen. I looked at him with a new trust and shook his hand as I welcomed him to the family. His grip was firm…well, much more firm than I thought it would be. I was highly impressed by his presence. Some people seem to have an essence about them and his was one of peace and trust. He made everyone fill so comfortable.

My wife leaned across the table to ask her and her husband if they wanted more bread. They both agreed so I passed them the basket of fresh baked rolls. After swallowing most of the food that was in her mouth, she continued telling the story of how we met and how the two of us used to get into so much trouble as kids. Her husband's eyes glowed as you could see the pride he had in his beautiful wife. She was amazing! She was the greatest friend that I've ever had and there was nothing that I wouldn't do for her.

The moment of bliss was interrupted by my mother's untimely desire to sing carols. Every Christmas we would sit around the fireplace and sing carols with each other so why would this be any different? It was odd to me that she wanted to sing in the middle of dinner, but that's what dreams are all about right? Oh, I didn't tell you? This story is a dream that I had on the night of January 3, 2009. It was the first dream of the year for me (unless you count the dream of me playing "Rock Band 2"…but I don't remember that one. I've only been told stories of how great I am at the air guitar)! It's amazing how dreams can show you how beautiful and fun life can be! Although, I don't see this dream coming true, I did wake up smiling…and I haven't done that in a while!


Her ride home...



Sitting there alone on that train made her wonder about coming back. She had been gone for so long. She didn't recognize anyone sitting beside her and this town didn't have many strangers. What was she thinking? Maybe she could get her old job at the kennel or maybe she could get a job working at the café. Who knows, maybe she could do both! She didn't have anything but time and being without him made it even harder to sit and enjoy the silence. She looked around at the people sitting around her. Each one has a story to tell to anyone who would listen, but these days, finding someone that would listen was harder than to tell the story. Each face sat there waiting to let go of the words they've kept silent for so long. Some were covered with beards, others were smooth and young. She wondered if anyone wanted to hear her story. She wondered if anyone looked at her face.

Her skin was soft and her face was flawless. She had long thin eyebrows that traced her intense but shy Spanish brown eyes. Her hair was lightened by the sun but you could still see the dark roots as she began to put her hair up. She sat there with her legs crossed and arms folded together looking around at each person. As they return the look, she would smile and look away. Her ears held these little diamond earrings that were given to her by her mother. Small in stature, she would always sit up straight with her back against the seat. Her legs were shiny and yet you could tell they were soft. Her knees were covered by her skirt and her soft feet were covered by the two straps of her high heels. One small strap gracefully hid the portion of her feet where her toes met her foot and the other went around the top of her ankle. She didn't polish her toe nails because she didn't have a color that wouldn't clash with her Brown skirt and wool suit coat, but it didn't matter…her smooth skin and beautiful toes where just a portion of what made this woman so unbelievably beautiful to everyone.


Shades of Gray



I've been in this taxi all day. The sky covered in the gray
of overcast and the light rain begins beads on the window as we drive through the city. Guided by the scattered thought of an empty future, I politely told the driver to let me out at the train station. After handing him a fist full of wadded money, my glove covered hands grip the dingy door handle as I pushed the door open with my elbow. The driver, who looked to be too old to handle luggage, looked at me and asked if he could help. I quickly smiled at him and encouraged him to find a warm lunch and not to worry about my luggage. He smiled back at me revealing his yellow tobacco stained teeth and merciful eyes. "You do know that the train is done for the day?" he said to me in his raspy low voice. I nodded, smiled, and walked toward the station. The air was full of sounds from the city. The squeal of brakes and the horns from impatient drivers join the sound of doves perched along the side of the station.

I grabbed my military issue duffle bag and throw the straps over my shoulder. The cold drizzle of rain has now turned into quite a down pour. Walking to a small café across the street, my thick wool beanie has started to soak in the rain but still shielded my eyes from the thick rain. The door to the café opened and the empty room echoed the sound of bells tied to the door handle. The door creaked as it slowly shut behind me. My wet boots left a trail of water and footprints as I slowly walked across the floor toward the center of the room. As I took the beanie off my head, it slowly leaked out the rain creating a small puddle on the hardwood floor of the café. "Hello?" I said loudly, as I stood there covered in wet clothes. With no answer, I slowly walked around the room looking at the old paintings on the wall.

"That was given to me by my grandmother." A shaky voice said from a small office in the corner of the room. "It has been in that exact spot

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