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In her hair, she wears
The beauty of Polaris;
Luminous orbs adorn
Her celestial body.
A veil of nebulae on her face,
Fails to conceal her eyes;
Alive with catastrophic bursts;
Reminiscent of supernovae.
Alnilam, a glorious embellishment
Graces her neck;
Sun-like Centauri on her arm,
And Elysian complement
To her dress of quintessence and energy.

R. A. Tyndall
Luna’s glow kisses gravestones,
In a field of eternal repose;
A lowered soul bemoans
In sibilant, unending prose.

The night fashioned in fantasy,
And the wind rends a mournful tune;
Bitter suites of ecstasy
On an impious night in June.

R. A. Tyndall
Children on the corner,
Standing in streetlight beams,
With fierce smiles, soulful eyes;
And fistfuls of broken dreams.

Children of the street,
Battered by circumstances’ blows;
With dry mouths, and burning bellies
Crouching in dumpster shadows.

R. A. Tyndall
She was Saturn,
The epitome of unique;
He was Jupiter,
The beast to her ethereal beauty.

She was Saturn,
Clothed in mystique;
He was Jupiter,
Clothed in shock and cruelty.

R. A. Tyndall
  May 4 Richard Frank
Amna Khan
Brittle, broken, beaten
I carry in my chest
a moldy stone.
It used to flutter once
and beat harmoniously.
Medusa's hair,
coiling around this planet
finally found it.
And now my heart is only a moldy stone, all thanks to this cruel world.
  May 4 Richard Frank
Amna Khan
Under the serene starry sky
lay a  hushed beating heart
In a field as far as the horizon offered
always allured by God's majestic art

Two glistening eyes on Draco fixated
Orion seemed the epitome of delight
Deciphering the secrets the cosmos held
in awe of the gloom broken by celestial light

Almost as if the stars were reaching out too
cradling the little one in their truths
unraveling their mysteries to the heart of the wild
in their lullaby, ease and soothe

The galaxies above used their magic to fill
the obscure heart with emotions aplenty
and all that chained it to the insipid earth
were mundane realities and gravity
Constructive criticism is welcome.
  May 4 Richard Frank
Amna Khan
Your tears strike
the frozen sleet below.
I shuffle to pick them up
because diamonds
are irrefutably too precious
to be wasted away
on such an ungrateful surface.
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