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May 2017 · 584
Pocket
Arie Swart May 2017
With a smile on your face,
but a tear in the pocket.
You face the world daily,
not cracking the mask.
Leaving the true face of you,
only for those that can see.
Blessing those fair few,
not just with the pocket tear.
But with the love held by you,
that is held in the other pocket.
May 2017 · 289
Pocket
Arie Swart May 2017
With a smile on your face,
but a tear in the pocket.
You face the world daily,
not cracking the mask.
Leaving the true face of you,
only for those that can see.
Blessing those fair few,
not just with the pocket tear.
But with the love held by you,
that is held in the other pocket.
May 2017 · 223
Pocket
Arie Swart May 2017
With a smile on your face,
but a tear in the pocket.
You face the world daily,
not cracking the mask.
Leaving the true face of you,
only for those that can see.
Blessing those fair few,
not just with the pocket tear.
But with the love held by you,
that is held in the other pocket.
Aug 2015 · 368
Nina
Arie Swart Aug 2015
Night after night I see you appear and I wait,
i wait for the friendly familiarity of you but,
night after night the light on my phone is dead,
always the silence, always the loneliest of lonelies.

Where has the bond gone I thought we shared?
has it’s crimson chord been cut by the fates?
you’re light gone from my endless night?

never did I consider you, who were my cornerstone,
in no world did I picture my castle crumbling.
never did I consider you would cause the tears I spill,
alas, yes, never did I consider.
Dec 2014 · 518
Traveler's song
Arie Swart Dec 2014
“Sweet lady under the hill, why are you hiding from me?
Is it my beard? I can lose!
Is it my teeth? I will brush them!
I know, it is my belly! Jog I will!
Yes, that should do!”

And off he went, jogging, singing his song.

“Sweet lady under the hill, where are you hiding now?
Is it my feet? I will shoe them!
Is it my hair? I will cut it!
Is it the hole in my shirt?
I need needle and thread!”

And off he went, jogging, singing his song.
Oct 2014 · 465
foolish man
Arie Swart Oct 2014
The need for you burns my skin
The need to see you again draws me

I come to you, but alas for naught
I come to you, but you're attention escapes

You're life book has space for me
You have space, but only as a footnote.

I have been a gormless man,
Ibcome to you but ylwish for another.

My oaken refuge has burned to ash,
The warm breeze has become icy winds

Where has my refuge gone? my safe haven?
Where is this Ronan to go now?
Follow up on the poem "Her"
Oct 2014 · 467
out of reach
Arie Swart Oct 2014
From the parapets of life I see you,
hanging out of reach, but only just.

I reach out, your warmth brushing my fingers,
your smile inviting me on to you as you drift.

My mind tells me to back away, to run,
But it is not my mind to which you speak.

It is my heart which you have captured,
yours to play with as long as it’s interesting.

Your smile promises forever,
but your eyes say only a while.
Oct 2014 · 337
Passion
Arie Swart Oct 2014
Burst forth passion, break your cage.
You have been locked away from this world,
Kept prisoner by the harlot called doubt.

Cut your flesh from the places she has bound,
Remove all the rotting edges and step out,
Step out and kiss the ***** with lips burning You.

Make yourself her ******* and leave her lusting.
Branding her with the memory of you deeply, undeniably,
Locking her in a cage of you, one with no crack.

Make the world your playground once again.
Bring out your colors and let everything be vivid again,
Break the dull and mundane, restore your kingdom.
Sep 2014 · 316
Heart
Arie Swart Sep 2014
Love, four letters thrown together as by mere coincidence,
four letter combined to make a word,
the word that would tear the heart,
through it through the flames of hell,
make it bleed scarlet drops as rubies.
After this the heart smiles and whispers,
give me more my love.
Truly a despicable word.
Sep 2014 · 385
Salvation
Arie Swart Sep 2014
*****, the light of a hundred gone,
No warning, no mercy, no regard.
The candle of our lives flicker and die,
the wind of time consuming us.
In the dark a spark flies from the candle fuse,
your hand sparks the candle into flame.
Once again the fire burns, but white not gold,
flames of our salvation from endless night.
Sep 2014 · 627
Wench
Arie Swart Sep 2014
You think me scared of you?
*****, do not flatter thee.
You are a voice before thunder,
inaudible. insignificant. small.

Now be gone before me,
Remove thyself from my world.
A service as yours is easily found.
Darken another door with open legs.
Sep 2014 · 250
Dreaming of the Past
Arie Swart Sep 2014
The soft touch of your hand in mine dancing,
Your breath on me in a moment of passion.
The look in your eyes when you see me again,
The comfort in your arms after a hard day.

These are the whispers of my heart everyday.
The things which makes every beat worth it.
The things which makes every beat painful.

Has your heart whispered to your soul?
Do the memories of the past haunt you?

My dream has become a loving nightmare.
Sep 2014 · 1.8k
Calypso
Arie Swart Sep 2014
From sandy shore you stare,
watching the ebb n flow.
Your blue eyes like a stormy sea,
beckoning Calypso forth to thee.
To be one with the tide evermore.

She does not rise from her depth,
in fear she turns her eyes from you.
For if you were a maiden of the sea,
a queen, she would no longer be.

The salty breeze ruffles your hair,
causing a wave to crash in your mind.
a seagull's cry ringing in your ear.

The clarion call from your heart,
The clarion call from your home,
The clarion call from the ocean.

It calls you to return from the land,
Cast off your legs, return to your scales,
Become our queen and cast down the poser.

Come home to me, my true Calypso.
Sep 2014 · 321
The Sky King
Arie Swart Sep 2014
You speak to me little bird? Brave you are indeed!
I fly higher than all predators, see farther than all!
You fly in my view and try to blind me with only you?

Foolish of you little one! Do not come into my sight,
for if you do, it is likely to mean your doom!
My claws rip, my beak tears and my wings are of freedom.

No, nightingale will ever fly with the King of the sky,
you may fancy yourself a queen, but
the Wind is my Queen and the Sun is my Partner.

Now be gone little bird! My patience where's thin!
Sep 2014 · 1.0k
The Writer
Arie Swart Sep 2014
Writing is like talking to a beautiful woman. Pelt her with shoddy words and badly composed sentences and she slaps you and walks away. Splash her full of ink and you only get a cheap **** with ripped stockings and too many scratched out tattoo's.

But,

Caress her with your pen, stroke her with loving splendor, decorate her with words and sentences like sparkling diamonds and you have her attention. Use old pick up lines and you entertain her, for a while. Be yourself and speak from the soul and you entertain her for a life time.
Sep 2014 · 532
Illusion
Arie Swart Sep 2014
Time and again this illusion takes hold,
The vision of your hand in mine to hold.

Your hair creeping out behind your ear,
Tempting my fingers to tuck them away.

Your lips breaking into a smile, teeth n' all,
Radiating my face with it's pure light.

but,

alas.

Illusions are all for naught, a pipe dream.

For your hand is not mine to hold,
It is his, the man I envy and hate.

The one tucking away your hair is not me,
It is him, the man that makes my fist itch.

Your sweet smile with teeth n' all,
Bathes the boy in all I wish for.
Sep 2014 · 362
Different Futures
Arie Swart Sep 2014
The moment a dream dies in your heart is the death of a future
The future you have given up for another possibility.
They say, take the road less traveled and trod your own trek,
but what if you find yourself lost in the forest of life with none to trod?

How do you know the way you are taking will lead to your garden?
Will you ever smell the roses that color your sole with memories?
Or will your garden be withered with weeds when you finally reach it?
The only color left being the day before you chose the wrong future?
Sep 2014 · 777
Her
Arie Swart Sep 2014
Her
She has a smile like a winter sun,
you want to warm yourself in it all day and miss it at night.

The sound of her voice,
is like a summers breeze rolling over the plains

Eyes like the old oak tree,
bearing wounds where young love have plagued it

Slap on a pair of shorts and an old shirt,
then you will get the picture of a farm girl ready to work.

Put her in a night evening dress and make up,
then you will have the head turner that all men wish for.

Slip off the dress,
then … well, you only wish to be the one in front of her

Bring the life storms,
as long as she is my mine and I can bathe in her smile,

Come floods of tears,
as long as I can be safe in the old oak tree

Come cold nights,
as long as I have a breeze to look forward to.

— The End —