Amateur Poems from the Work Place


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Disclaimer: I'm not a poet and these probably aren't even poems. I like to think of them as 'abstract' in terms of structure, subject matter and cohesion.

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'She is...'

She is Art.

Not in the way that a painting is art, or a sculpture.

But perhaps, a clipped hedge;

One that is trimmed and tame, but

At the same time, unruly.

One that will grow and be untamed and breach the boundaries

One that will never be complete.


She is Beautiful.

Not in the way that a sunset is beautiful, or the glow of a full moon.

But perhaps, a sandstorm;

An obscurity in the vision,

So that all you see is her.

Leaving without a trace

But making her mark.


She is Captivating.

Not in the way that a ballerina dancing their heart out is captivating,

Or a violinist, stroking the strings of Violin Sonata No. 9 is.

But perhaps, in the way that a public speaker is.

Acting with fiery passion that is so

Enticing and brave and dazzling to watch.

In a way that, once acknowledged, is impossible to escape.


She is Danger.

Not in the way that a provoked beast is dangerous, or a poisoned chalice;

But perhaps, in the way that a rickety bridge is.

Where there are so few panels left

And those that look promising, deceive. 

Where the water below is still, undisturbed, anticipating;

Waiting for the fall to unleash its Kraken.


She is Ecstasy.

Making you high,

But not in the way that the drug does;

Instead, using her Dangerous personality, her

Captivating smile, her Beautiful presence, and

Her Artful soul.

She is the butterflies in your stomach and the drug in your mind.

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