Mystery, slow and steady
As I watch the stars take form
Powerless in this shell
But at least it's kept me warm
Concealing the outside world
From me, just a scared little girl
With no thoughts of bravery
Or curiosity to wonder about the storm
As lightning strikes
Through the scars in my eyes
And imagined tears take form

Tunneling through the hole in my brain
Trying to find a spot in which you still remain
Getting lost continuously along the way
Finding old memories,
Some dreams previously lost to me
Leaving my thoughts in disarray
If only I could find you, you'd say
'Take my hand, I'll guide you home
And never lead you astray'
But that destiny is clearly lost to me
And deep inside, I start to pray

Her life begins from ashes
From the ashes she rise
The same ashes she becomes
When she dies
More powerful
Stronger and wise
To sail for forever
In every skies
A mythical beast
Born out of fire
To keep burning always
She aspire
She flies high
She looks like a bird
The mighty beast
That some think is absurd
Flaming always
In yellow and red shades
Her blaze is eternal
It never fades
Only those ones can see her
Who believe
Magic she have
Even in tears she grieve
Bodies and souls
And every wound they heal
Her flame so hot
It melts even steel
She looks for someone
To enlighten and warm
But not to burn
In her firestorm
She is a bit dark
And a lot mysterious
She is powerful
And so delirious
She is exquisite
And so observant
Give us hope
Her heat so fervent
Her freedom and her flight
No cage can restrain
She is the Phoenix
And she would always rise again

scent towers oh thy lowers perfumeth of a four legged
hoof creature, from which thy parents descended
to mate with a mare, thy head and structure fully
capable of aiming the arrow, thy patronage
either Zeus- for me the better example maybe, horse,
whatever- speaks of *******. There I draw the line.
I shall never google that. Give me tall, hot,
and wet woman on woman.

the heart feels a gypsy
the mind a vagabond
the eyes get misty
by the lilies in the pond

bloom the petals pinkish
smudged with streaks of white
swaying slow by wind's kiss
glory displayed bright

upon the slender neckline
crowns of innocent smiles
fill all dark with sunshine
wipe out weary miles

o traveler feel the invite
merrily pause to respond
be a while in sunlight
among the lilies of the pond

daringly to
a million degrees celsius pulse

magnetically until
streaming showers

of mass
ejections

fluctuate
sporadically

or a car a tire a yard just grass
or a forest one tree, we have a proclivity
for that.
A low part is a valley , a peak a hill,
but us humans often call each other
parts of the body. Blood is just fluid.
A *****, can be woman or man.
We like ambiguity, at times.
A dude can be a ****. I know, I am most times.
The label lets us simplify, while at the same time
lower them and raise us.
Not even gonna go for the political things.
right winged left all are boxes we like to put people in,
you know all that,
but to call someone one thing aren't you forgetting
how you , if you say things like that, might be called,
a part of the body we sit upon?

because there are not enough poetry readers out there
a lot of poets checking on if their latest work
got any hits
not enough English teachers too!