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Awake at dawn,
the gray and gold,
spinning circles of haze.
The cardinals perched to see,
they wait.
I pull from my mind,
the thought of you,
the glance you give me,
the words you feed into me.
I draw you,
in the light I see you,
in the way no one ever will.
I go to the window,
the cardinals float to me,
they pull my view of you,
from my mind and from paper.
I know the birds in red,
will tell you how I wait,
for you.
 Apr 2015 Aayush Rathod
Maddy
I feel your warmth
I feel your heartbeat
I feel your touch
Pulsating
Pulsating
Focus
Stay with me
No
No
No
Thank you Haniel
We will get there
Truth
Harmony
Beauty
Happy you are resting
I hear you now
Breathing
Breathing
Sleaping
Illuminated heart
Arrow piercing
Nativity
Purple Heart
The horn  sounds loud
Let it go..
Some people wish for a myriad
of things, music on a record
their own personal rock band
a mansion, a pool, being the chief
inspector.
Making money, a yacht, dream of a
big family, nights at an inn. Lots
of clothes and shoes and their own
marriage, a wife who will never
leave him.
*If I could have just one wish, I'd
want to be in any room, just one
place, you holding me with your
arm, and a fan on in the background
so I can hear your breathings
pace...
I'd rather have the kind of love
That grows organically
Not forced or rushed

I'd rather have the kind of love
That grows from a wealth
Of shared experiences
One hundred cups of coffee
One thousand laughs
Ten thousand smiles

I'd rather have the kind of love
That burns slowly
Continues to provide warmth
Gives off a steady light

I'd rather have the kind of love
That's built on substance

I'd rather have the kind of love that lasts
Movies and books would have you believe that love has to be a huge explosion of feeling. That the moment you meet someone you should know they're the one. There's more to love than that.
Your veins are a map
that I will always
want to explore

Close my eyes
and guide my fingertips
To a destined spot
You start the day waking up in blight

Staring at the ceiling, neither nor bright

struggling yourself left and right

feeling down and never delight

You gaze at your left to a wonderful sight

A hand has reached out

Grabbing it without doubt

You’ve sat down with a straight spine

Everything seemed all fine

Pulling you to a bright light

A dazzle you’ve been waiting for a long time

A pious voice whispers “You are safe”

But many screams “Farewell”

A great epiphany hits

You’ve lost your tomorrow.
I followed the lead,
Of my sinister caretaker
I was taught to serve my greed.
And we lived with men of no stature!

That was when my people, brown
Just free from the clutches of blond folk
We spoiled many men, who wore an unseen crown!
For our avarice grew of their prosperity’s scent.

We hooligans ruled the fear,
Of the humble and the righteous
They knew they lived in no ****** shire.
Our bare sight, rouse them nervous!

We revered no civil code
Vices and hatred our nub,
We belonged to no family, no abode.
No handcuffs strong enough to help curb!

Such was our thing, our cupidity,
To which none dare rise against!
Our victims seldom showed their agility,
For grief we inflict is a poor choice to endure.

The honest fell on my grime feet,
But how long will justice fail to prevail?
My hired judges failed to sow my ‘righteous’ seed,
And I was pushed into the chasm of evil to wail!

My life until death now lay waste,
These insidious walls seldom let me rest!
My wretched soul yearns to run away in haste
The very thought of freedom, a precious zest.

The days at first I numbered for a lost cause.
They made me hope, the very part I often stole,
From the just by virtue of my flaws!
At night I sit waiting for the sun to rise.

Those rays of light seem now as precious gold.
No prison mate was a heart of resort.
As a shoulder to cry upon and hold!
I yearn for a wise consort.

A woman like a mother, I wish.
Though a dream, I least have this liberty,
I feel blessed to have it to relish.
But I remind myself to repent for eternity.

I am reduced to a number,
I dread to now count!
Seldom have I got to be in a deep slumber,
My nightmares bark like a hound.

I stare out of the window,
As repentance flows out of my eyes
A woman came searching for me that fine day
The woman of a just man I once slay!

She didn’t have revenge in her mind
But pity and mercy like the viscous honey!
She bought sweets, I met someone kind!
I felt mortified of having robbed her man.

She claimed to instill goodness in me,
That there would be no disparity amongst us
If she choose to be passive and loathe!
That day after years I felt a bird sang to me of joy.

She preached to me of gods,
Of the same virtue but different form!
I prayed to them, one day a lord,
And soon watching her made my heart race!

For she was the only woman I knew
The only one I fell for,
A forbidden love, I fancy!
Soon she departed to her pristine abode
And with her left an eternal grace!

To this widow I owe my soul,
Her goodness makes me hope.
That I can be righteous and commit no foul
And this was a dream I sowed passion for.

I would stare out of the window
To see the birds soar high.
No mountain stopped their flight,
Nor a tree tempted them to rest.

Then when I heard of death’s call
And that my endowments lay unperformed
Her words proved to be true,
Hope surpasses the depth of every woe.

There lay a little of life to live,
A respite offered for a promise.
And they let me see the world,
All its grandeur, all its bounty!

It seemed nothing like yesterday
For they had taken from me
The chunk I should’ve valued most!
The world had risen in time,
And I was left with none.

But it felt akin to waking up
Like from a deep slumber,
In a place not known to me!
And every priceless breath I now took,
Like the first breath after coma,
The courtesy of the widow!
An ode to all the prisoners around the world who repent.
Breathe.

Settle yourself.

Try to understand.

We were meant to love.

And if we can not love, then we were meant to try to love.

And failing that we were made to breathe.

And try again.



-Sean Critchfield
This is the product of an exercise. I was instructed to grab the 7th book on my shelf, turn to page 7, and use the 7th line as my first line. The poem was restricted to seven lines.
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