WingSpan Poetry Project


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My Home – the Land Of Contentment

Sunset with its blazing

colors of pink, gold and purple

-my favorite time of the day.

Birds laughing in the garden – chirping-

singing – as they hunt

for their food and water.



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Blue Jays


The sun is bright it’s a beautiful

day everyday blue jays fly by.  Blue

jays are bright and blue like the sky.

When blue jays whistle they sing to

the sky, the trees blow with the wind.

When the blue jays sing to the sky

they combine with the wind.




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We have been admiring its beauty,
The image of completeness and
what nature gives us so fully.
It’s always a special thing to
recognize and see the plentifulness
in things around us. Just as what
is in a well. Fully, simply flowing river.
What thrives in nature’s simplicity
is almost always beautiful to just see
its natural yet simple, plentiful addition
in life.



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It’s hard to make the good times last with how short of a life we have been given.
We choose wisely to live it without much
focus on the time flying as to preserve
the beauty of the moments we’re in.

No life would have been fully valued
when it’s spending time that could
be spent on valuing the moment you
have, to live over the time you have
left. Every second has a purpose and
every second should never be used to
think on what seconds were lived or
what are left to live.



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Many people say they hate
their life but really do
you hate it or is it the
way it has gone. We did
not choose the life we were
given nor did we want
this life but we still can
be a little thankful for it.
I’ve been to hell and back
but I have not yet given up.
I see people struggle everyday
with shit that should never
happen. The stuff that happens
on a day to day basis can
and will affect peoples’ lives.
Why hate your life when people
would die for the life you’re
living. Being thankful and patient
can do a lot for you.



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My Angel

I met my first angel
at my friend’s brother’s house at a party.
My angel was wearing glass.
Iridescent thick glass.

My angel is sick,
always coughing up thick smoke.

My angel is hungry
for attention, from me,

and only me

by Siren Monroe


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I Met My First Angel

at a funeral

My angel was wearing a black gown

My angel was crying because I died

My angel has a pet crow

My angel is hungry for souls

I brought my angel over to meet my dead dog

My angel’s secret is she really loves you.