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She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a pending rainbow
that's hiding behind the clouds
in the sky.

She is a warm pocket
in a cold, deep ocean,

She is a virtual art form,
She is poetry in motion.

She is thunder and lightning
in a perfect blue horizon,

She is a delicate wildflower
growing in a plush green field,
one that is mesmerising.

She is an unexpected smile
on a lonely day,

She is instant relief
when things aren't going
your way.

She is a suprising hint of sweetness
when you are expecting
something sour,

She is a timeless friend,
She is an immortal flower.

She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a breath of fresh mountain air, causing one to exhale a relieving sigh.

She is full of substance,
empathy, wisdom and kindness,

She contains infinite layers
of universes beneath her skin,
all of which are unrecognisable
to the naked eyes that suffer from "metaphorical" blindness.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
Dedicated to my daughter, Amanda. F ***
I caught a glimpse
Of the sun,
It was hiding
Behind selfish stubborn clouds,

These clouds were covering
The sunlight,
They looked like hooded cloaks -
Like dark scary shrouds.

I caught a glimpse
Of a magical rainbow,
It was hiiding
Behind very heavy hazy fog,

The thick murky fog
Obscured my visibility,
It stole all of the brightness;
A cruel, gloomy, colourless smog.

By Lady R.F ©2017
Red and amber sky
Tinges of blue
fading

Fire blazing sun
Slowly
cascading

Velvet clouds
Frozen in time
Like decorative lace

Holding their breath
Anticipating the illuminated moon
to take the restless sun's place.

By Lady R.F ©2017
Another beautiful sunset
Truly blessed
And so,
That year,
The rain
Had forgotten to fall,

Winter slept-through its season,
It didn't hear Autumn's
Wake-up call.

Winter was oblivious
To the Earth's changing position
With regard to the sun,

This was made completely obvious
When the likes of Spring
Prematurely sprung.

Winter's time
Was well and truly
Over and done,

Winter
Was over
Before it had even begun.


By Lady R.F. (C)2017
This piece is all that's left from my memory,
I accidentally deleted the original poem I had written.
I guess, the poem, as beautiful as it was,
was like that winter, it was over before it even begun!

I hate the feeling when I lose a poem - it's so sad.
With elegance,
A Wordsmith interprets
In the exquisite,
Timeless language
Of poetry,

Delicately composing
Beautiful words
Into elaborate sonatas,
Each rendition A graceful,
Classical symphony.

With beauty and intensity,
Full of raw emotions,

Each wordsmith
Extracts their most inner-feelings
And intricately converts them
Into rhythmical compositions.

And this
Is the only fluent language
Their soul is able to speak...

Each sonata they release,
With wings,
Is individually mastered,
Impeccable, and unique.

May each Wordsmith
Never miss a beat,

And continue writing,
With poetic justice,
Their heart's rhythm
On every sheet.

***

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
Dedicated to the Wordsmiths of our world;
May you never miss a beat and continue writing your heart's rhythm on your sheet.

***
Our hearts weigh more
when they are broken,

Our minds expand
when they are awoken.

Our souls can be felt
when they are shattered,

Our hearts, minds
and souls are fragile
when they've been battered.

They can be mended
with love and care,

With strength and faith
and with some valuable prayer.

We can learn
from all of our pain,

With our lessons
we can stand tall again.

Showing ourselves
some needed compassion,
patience and love,

Seeking salvation
from God above.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
Stars very rarely
Hang-out alone,

A perfect night sky
Lets this be known.

They come together
Forming a spectacular
Constellation,

Shining magnificently bright
In a festive celebration.

Subdued,
Gently glowing undertones
Of a perfect moon,

Allow each individual star's quality
To be extraordinarily exhumed.

A perfect,
Starry evening
Sadly comes to an end,

As dusk turns to dawn;
With it,
The sun it sends.

By Lady R.F.(C)2017
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