Under the Surface

poems dreaming
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Under my covers
Dreaming of things
I have never seen
Tossing and turning
Wandering and wondering
Until that time I woke
From the black and white
to a place full of colour
unknown to me

Sights never seen
On a bed of fallen hands
I could not believe
Giants surrounding me
Still as they stood
My eyes open wide

I feared nothing
But that light
falling on me

As I shifted to me feet
Those hands fall upon me
As if to say, you must stay.

There is more beauty
in your mind, forget
what is out there to see



photograph by Ruslan Gamzaliev


Image Curve’s Manifesto

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Thomas DeAngelo

This is a writer of modern poetry and an inspiring writer. Residing in the lower Appalachian mountains of Pennsylvania where he enjoys reading, writing and is his spare time hiking. He has been writing since the 1980's with expectations of being published. The words that flow by ink are the defeats and enjoyments of the life lived in the years that accompanied the mind of a writer that measured his time recognizing the passions of surrounding people.

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