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 Jul 2017 Eleni
Gabriel burnS
To war!
The queen commands,
Battalions defend at once!
The battleship is pounding on her shores;
and past defensive lines extends
the front of the invading force,
retreats, regroups,
rallying the troops,
the enemy is pouring through the doors.
Her thoughts are soldiers finally expired.
Her generals now under heavy fire.
Yet she's the one who, after all,
this battle, skillfully,  provoked.
It seems that she forgot
that cold wars can turn hot.
She managed for awhile to slow down the assault.
Now the end draws nigh when final hill embattled falls.
oldie-goldie (18+)
 Jul 2017 Eleni
Gabriel burnS
You, silhouetted against the skyline
******* slumber, slowly putting on
The night

Slipping into moonlight silk
Sliding into ambience
Of darkness laced with streetlights,
A veil of fireflies
Spilt,
Soft curves flowing side to side,
Voluptuous
Waves swaying delight,
My nocturnal albi
 Jul 2017 Eleni
Where Shelter
alas, the same promise,
yet again, broken, no more writing of
the lightness of perfection so real,
it cannot be a truly,
a man's one more poetic homage to improve upon nature's gift,
nary a single craft to be seen,
tho somewhere, a motor hums nearby,
a mechanical reminder that men
will intrude, even if unobserved,
not necessarily then,
a picture complete

the sun 7 o'clock afternoon sky low,
warmths the world, as did its AM reciprocal,
a dozen hours earlier,
both on a low heat,
a sky stove top
'keep warm' setting,
a desirable global warming temperature

that promise not to burden you
with a hundredth scribing of his
lottery luck, this poetry nook and the
idyll of its surround,
it's childlike insistence,
stomping on the greenest sea grass
of this portly world,
"write of me, attention must be paid!"

the lightest breeze of excellent sufficiency
asks the trees to shake
their compatriot leaves
as if to applaud,
one more time, a lord of the ring serenade,
an evenstar song of
the solstice of perfection

a cloudless night but for
an occasional wispy white blemish,
hinting that the orb's final bow will be
a forever remembered,
standing ovation performance

in an hour, to the dock we'll go,
joining  the congregant gulls
in appreciating the edging lower of
an immaculate inception
of a dying day's deceptive departure

my troubles, those that
furrow and till the brow,
105 miles away, as the crow flies,
for now suppressed into non-existence,
as we drink to
la vie en rose,
our wine, snatching the salmon pink
of suns rays rippling and reflecting
upon humans, who too reflect,
upon their good fortune,
this single and singular
peeking at the peaking of their perfection,
each wishing this be
their journeys end, their final solstice,
to walk into a funnel upon the water,
into the sun and the
horizon in attendance faithful,,
alighting upon the wings of the most glorious of  inviting, dying rays of setting,
answering the question, a long last finale,
here, here is shelter!
a  sincere apology for writing of, again and again, the perfection of this place in our lives

Silver Beach, Peconic Bay, S. I
 Jul 2017 Eleni
Sorcier d'argent
One at a time, slowly and softly,
I will carry you through the breeze,
Patience my lady, worry not;
For I will be your wings,

If you wish,
And only if you will.

Look at me, seek my world and
I shall welcome you,
With this chansonette,
This gentle little song for you.
A little undelivered piece I had written a few years ago.
 Jul 2017 Eleni
Fullfreddo
~

a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown

own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes

easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work

~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet

                                        ~                  ­                            

hard.

Capital Hard.

in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work

and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
Born May 22, 2015
My first poem.
 Jul 2017 Eleni
Jaslin Goh
fresh.
The moment water trickles down your body

clean.
The moment you step out of the showers

aromatic.
The moment the smell of freshly brewed beverage hits

savoury.
The moment amazing breakfast washes into your mouth

personal.
The moment you put on music and hum along
Enjoy your morning all! For an introvert like myself, I take breakfast seirously, it's me-time, where I am generally undisturbed. I love my typical mornings. I hope you do too :)
 Jul 2017 Eleni
SøułSurvivør
You're looking out
Of private eyes
Wearing shades
In disguise
But your soul-talk
Never lies.

You hide in dresses
Garish red
You break your back
You break your bed
Can't you get it
Through your head?
One more shot
You may be dead.

Russian Roulette's
No game to play
It's all a gamble
As you say
Want to live
Another day?
If you die...
You'd better PRAY.

You strut the streets
You sail in yachts
Your jetsetter life
Is paid for. Bought.
You can go to Fiji
But your thoughts
Are still around
They can't be fought.

You drink & drug
To hide the scars
Wear long sleeves
For all the mars
A lowlife *****
A superstar
Wherever you go...

... there you are.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/21/2017
No matter where you go or what you do you'll always face the enemy. YOU.

I know. I was an addict. But I died... in Christ. Now HE is in control. I still have to wrestle self. I still have troubles. But it's LIGHT-YEARS better than it was.

Thank you, GOD! ♡
 Jul 2017 Eleni
SøułSurvivør
After being released by the raptor, far above her home-world, the girl child put her arms straight down by her sides and dove. She plummeted. Angling her body so that she was falling head first toward her planet. She was absolutely fearless. Unlike the seraphim, who had wings, Natalheme was completely humanoid. Her tunic billowed around her as she fell.

The gravitational pull of her world was approximately the same as earth. In fact her entire solar system was very similar. But Sephiahm (pronounced sef-eýe-em) was slightly larger, and had 5 moons.

Na-mé (her parent's nickname for their 3 year old) kept her large lavender eyes open as she swooped down. She admired her beautiful Seph as it closed in on her. All of a sudden she spread her arms and legs wide. Her tunic began to catch air and she fell more slowly. But the tunic was hardly a parachute. She didn't need one. Soaring up from beneath her the eagle-creature positioned itself perfectly. She landed on its neck and clung tight with her knees bent 'round its wings! It swooped up catching the Mist once more...

The bird dropped down gracefully upon the balcony in front of Natalheme's bedchamber. She held onto it for a minute or so, stroking its mottled crystaline feathers.

"Thank you, Tikeerah", she said softly. The Mooshoré shrieked its pleasure and satisfaction, and shrugged the child off of its shoulders.

She went to a bowl of fruit, which had been arranged on her balcony for her breakfast, and selected a piece very reminiscent of an acorn squash.

She brought it to the bird, who ate it hungrily. The pulp mooshed all over its copper beak, and Na-mé wiped it with a small napkin. The deep red juice would have temporarily stained her fingers...

"Good?" She queried the raptor.

It lifted its beak and screamed into the air. Its cry resonated in the crystals which sprang from the ground...

"YEEESSS!" Other-worldly music bounced from one crystal to the other!

Natalheme sent up a cry of her own, "GOOODDD!" The crystal-music took on the characteristics of her voice also, and the melodious "echos" lasted many seconds....

... and The One smiled.



SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/22/2017
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