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CeriseRed Feb 2020
The day rises at eight, journeys at ten
Arrives nearly at noon
Salt sweat stream down her shirt

The day finds the hive
No honeys but melted chocolate chair
Steel rust stain stamp her skirt

Behold for no king bee arrives
Only the smoker
Fog fazed the dizzy dazzle bears.
I miss reading books which will take away your heart, will welcome you like home and will play the hands of time. Any recommendations? 🙃
CeriseRed Oct 2019
"We have no other choice
but to be brave and strong
each and everyday,"
Says the woman in the mirror

"But how far I will go?"
Doubts her shadow as she calls it a night.
  Nov 2018 CeriseRed
I am more than what you see
I am more than what you read
More than just a memory or moment
I am human flesh and bones with a heart deeper than the ocean, yet no
I will not let you in
My heart is not a garden,
for you to take a walk in
I have died so many times
while you were gone
The world has ended every night
you didn't come back

But I am more than that
I am standing on my feet again
Holding my dreams and hopes
in each hand
Because not even the world ending will stop me
Trust me
I am more than that
I am enough
CeriseRed Sep 2018
The dying hero said
To his wife and his beloved children
"I obliged you not to follow the same path I took."

With those words,
His daughter inquired,
"Father, how come not if it was a beautiful path
with those roses and dandelions,
showered by a blazing yellow hot sun
glittered with cotton candy sky
and a bouquet of trees and a choir of angelical wind?"

The hero stared blanky at his daughter
His heart gasped a beat and mouthed the words,
"Singsong the truth without coated sugar,
the world needs the intellectuals
with skills and talents,
neccessary for humanity to survive,
be a doctor who cures the sick,
be an engineer who builds
be a lawyer, be a farmer or a fisher,
anything will do but not the one I am."


"They are nothing without words,
They are nothing but robots,
without the tune of the tongue,
without the ink of the heart,
the world for them is all but rigid,
round but pointed,
with air but not breathing.
Words can **** but words can also heal."

The girl paused, then stand.
"Father can crack the caramel paint
and reveals of what's the truth,
I am who I am
and I am what father can do."

It was midnight.
The hero died.
A dead man and a dead will.
His deed still lives in pages,
and in the veins of his female kid.
A rebel daughter was born.
Her words were nothing for an empty soil.
A dead will and a dead man.
He wrote poems.
  Sep 2018 CeriseRed
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

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