The Introduction was trivial
compared to your entrance
into my world--the way how
everything just disappeared
and all I could see is you walking
It seemed as if everyone around
me suddenly stopped talking
and every motion was slow motioned
just for me to get that first look;
that first impression--I was speechless--
Man, that was priceless!
And when you took me into your embrace,
taking my breath away with that first kiss--
Ooh, that was bliss!
And since that day five years ago;
that famous intro you do--
I have to say, "You the man!"
Because I swear, when I look at you,
everything just disappears, all I see is you my dear,
and everyone around me suddenly stops talking
just so I can get that first look; that first impression
and every motion is slow motioned.
Creative Writings - Reina J. Morris
Pain holds my hand and won't let go,
I blister at his touch, walk weeping
by his side and wake to his embrace.
Pain holds my hand.
Pain holds my hand and won't let go,
I weep beside the river, step into its waters
begging for relief, Pain looks on, he
holds my hand.
From blisters ooze our blood and plasma,
down our hands, onto our feet. Pain says
to me: Do you wish now to escape? I know
not what to say. Mute, I hold his hand.
Pain holds my hand, he never lets me go.
I writhe and weep and finally look
into his bloodshot eyes; for he is weeping too,
Pain holds my hand, he weeps for me.
We walk three days through deserts dry,
Pain holds my hand. From my blood he draws
the poisons of my sins. Pain holds my hand,
he weeps for me.
Embrace my heart, created just for you;
though ageless eyes mind wonderment and pleas
inside your poems that bring this beast to knees,
this love regards an angel, now a muse.
Behold a landscape over flowered beach
where breezes sip upon that tendered flesh;
I'm bleeding rainbows, coating Summer dress
to cling a gorgeous heart I need to reach.
Let it be known, you are my noble friend;
your heart's pulse bonds our truth's experience.
Amanda, drain your tears unto my cheeks
and share the pain of love till moods ascend.
A seraphim will note I Love You, hence
the beauty born from honest words to speak.
Beautiful writer, herself.....
You're the moon outside my window,
And the stars in my sky.
You're the wonders down below,
And the birds that fly by.
You're the fish in my sea,
And the foam on my waves.
You're the leaves on the trees,
And the rocks in the caves.
I hear you, and see you,
I smell you, and feel.
I taste you, and embrace you,
I kiss you, and heal.
You're the plots in my dreams,
And the patterns in my bed.
You're the stitches in my seams,
And the thoughts in my head.
You're everything I want,
And you're everything more.
You're the one I want to flaunt,
And you're the one I adore.
You finally made it!
I've been waiting for you for a long time.
Now I invite you to come into my world.
Shhh…Step softly…Close your eyes.
Just listen. Feel.
Feel the silence. Listen to the energy.
Now open your eyes.
Taste the brightness. See the sweetness.
Embrace the love.
Now go. Spread the word.
Send the others.
I'll be waiting.
Amidst life that speaks in tones of everyday normalcy richness can get lost beauty can be taken for
Granted the first awareness that you created was mellowness but at its center was diffused beauty
The earth did stand still nothing sees so keenly as a heart that has been opened and stunned where
You were standing all things fled to a distance you were left alone a sacred hollowness surrounded you
Love creates the environment in an instant when it sees possibilities a life is being proposed a union
For life is conjured a story of place and promise runs in all directions only the night breeze can speak
These things with perfect eloquence tender embrace surrender that creates trust takes and binds all
Fear lets two souls become one in incomparable measures perfection known in no better terms two
Forms elegantly expressed they move in emotional storms that lead to discovery of what each has at
Their core and they find with amazement that they are truly mostly identical what a rush when you find
Your other half glory starts a dance that only ever widens to matrimony and the significance of life
When you produce a life that is yours can any other sky be so delightful where else can such tenderness
Spring when they coo a song that says were family the magic that was confirmed with a kiss now has
Reached the flood stage of bliss little arms jerk in that motion there is a telling of a bond that was stirred
And began when eyes met and promise silently spoke and triggered a path that opened unseen but love
Guided on the captured hearts that were meant to share a life it might be lived in ordinary days but still
When you look at one another longing still stirs time has only made the shaky early days into a fortress
Built by caring sharing esteeming the other what a grand opulence pervades seen in heavenly climes
Stained glass windows depict your life truly the prince and princess of fairy tales are there depicted
The prince in blue the princess in a white gown a small cottage stands in the distance there are no
Greater fairy tales than when love works itself out in human life one line sums it up they are thrilled
By each other’s touch or I fall at your feet with weakness you lift me in your own powerlessness
Our spirits as a vacuum then allows grace to flow it surges it disallows all selfish acts a fire unquenchable
Burns with purist burning its blazing leaps in the dark night it shows for all to see a great love is being
Consumed and lived fully I dedicate this to Ivy on her birthday truly love never dies
The scientist was first on stage,
Then came his Geminoid.
The family resemblance-
impossible to avoid.
An android in his image,
That seems to understand.
A body that is ageless
in the shape and form of man.
An android body could survive
The void of outer space
without the need for oxygen
Or food that looks like paste.
Could roam the plains of Mars
Explore the nearby cosmos,
Travel to a nearby star.
Then when, at last, they journey back
to Earth, their cosmic home,
will they embrace their distant kin
or find they are alone?
Your lovely face
yielding my mirror;
two bluish eyes,
Waiting for my kiss
Your elegant neck,
framed within soft hair.
Your unpainted lips,
responsive to my breathe
You’re bursting breasts,
sinfully for an embrace
each nipple thirsting
to my loving touch.
By Williamsji Maveli
Ever since she was young,
She heard stories about what happens after death.
She heard stories about heaven and hell, and everywhere in between.
She heard stories about forgiveness and salvation and redemption.
So when she decided to greet death as a friend one lonely night
On her bathroom floor, she thought she knew what to expect.
As her head leaned against the porcelain of her bathtub, she
Waited for the warm feeling to overtake the chill that came
From watching her blood pour onto the linoleum. But death
Didn't greet her like an old friend, or even like a relative
That she saw once a year at the annual Christmas party.
In fact, death didn't greet her at all.
If anything, it seemed as though she became death.
From her vantage point, slumped against the back
Wall of her bathroom, she could see her razor blade
On the far side of the sink, and the cut running
Vertically down her right arm, open and exposed.
She tried to move her head, then her arm, then any body
Part, but her brain seemed to no longer be in command.
She waited, and waited, and waited.
She watched the sun creep down the tiles on the wall,
And then back up again, and then back down,
Until she heard a sound at the door.
A distant knocking ricocheted off the
Walls of the bathroom and a soft voice followed.
She tried to speak, to scream, but she remained silent.
She heard footsteps growing louder throughout the house
Until finally they went silent, and a hand pushed on the door.
A scream, a shrill blood-curdling scream followed.
And then talking, and more knocking, and more voices,
And more screaming, and more footsteps, and more voices.
Until finally, men in white uniforms entered the bathroom,
Lifting her from her position against the wall. She tried
To speak, again, but nothing came out. They
Laid her on her back and suddenly her world went black.
She couldn't calculate the time spent in that bag because before
They zipped it up, they shut her half-opened eyes.
She heard more footsteps, and then cars, and then doors,
And then metal on metal, and then voices, and then doors.
Eventually, everything went still. No more footsteps,
No more voices, no more doors, no more screaming,
No more talking, no more knocking, no more screaming.
Everything remained still for a long time.
Longer than she could even care to remember.
She imagined this was death, the absolute end,
The kind of silence that wrapped around her like a coat.
But then everything wasn't silent.
If she was able, she would have sat straight
Up in a cold sweat, looking around frantically.
But she remained still and quiet as the soft noise
Made it's way around her eardrum like a vine.
She felt something touching her face, something
Soft and thin and pointed.
She focused on the object.
And then realized, it was a root.
The roots of the grass and the roots of the flowers
That were growing above her had finally come to
Reclaim their rightful space in the cold earth.
She wanted to scream out apologies to the roots,
And beg them to just let her go back to where she came from.
She begged the earth to spit her out like a rotten piece of fruit,
Back into the bathroom she so desperately wanted to escape.
But the earth was set on taking back what was rightfully theirs,
And that included her.
Slowly, over an excruciatingly long period of time, the roots
and branches and dirt found their way onto every surface
Of her once pale skin. It wrapped around her neck, nestled
Into her crevices, and poked at her soft spots, until there
Wasn't an inch that wasn't graced with nature's touch.
So she stopped begging the earth to leave her, and
Started welcoming the earth to embrace her,
Until finally, it claimed her again.
A mirror is only as good as what you see on its surface
and when what you see isn’t what you want,
you start to wish the mirror was broken,
that someone bought it from a fun house,
that what you see isn’t really you.
You start to avoid the mirrors in your house,
pretending not to worry about how you look,
claiming that you’re not a vain person.
But the truth is, your vanity hides
beneath a layer of disgust
like a sheath of decaying sanity.
You want to curl up,
curl up until you disappear,
because maybe then people would look at you
the way you want them to,
they would look at you fondly,
missing your little quirks and they would say things like,
“They were so beautiful, it’s such a shame.”
But the thing is,
that’s not what happens.
That is not fondness,
it is pity. They feel bad for you,
but they feel no guilt
for how they ignored you.
Disappearing won’t make people look at you.
I thought like that once upon a time,
and sometimes the thoughts still creep in
like little worms trying to eat away at the confidence I have built.
But damn it,
I have worked too hard to go back now.
When I look in the mirror,
I no longer see that layer of disgust
that sheathed my decaying sanity.
Now I look in the mirror and I think,
“Fuck, I look really good.”
I do it anytime I look in the mirror,
because now it’s true.
I believe every word of it,
I finally like what I see.
And if that makes me vain
then I will gladly accept the title.
I have wasted too much time avoiding my own reflection.
For once in my life, I’m finally happy with what I see.
And nobody, nobody, is ever going to take that away from me.
Look at yourself.
Embrace what you see, love it.
If you don’t like it, you can change it.
You can change the cut and color of your hair,
you can change the clothes you put on,
you can exercise and you can eat right,
you can even change the color of your eyes.
All I ask of you is that you don’t hurt yourself in order to change things.