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  Mar 2016 Julie Langlais
Sk Abdul Aziz
One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what the other person has to say.
Julie Langlais Mar 2016
Four letters worth all the wealth you need.

Jl 2016
Two seedlings grow up on the same plot of land
Wonderful black soil, not loose sand
So their roots gripped deep, so tall they could stand
So face to face they grew, each one knowing the other
As they shot up, their love soon bloomed one for another
They so longed to touch and entangle
With their branches they wanted to hold and mingle
And all the way to their roots they wanted to feel the tingle
Their love grew strong, and so did their trunks
They were watered and cared for each day by the monks
And the years slipped by when one final hour
Their branches could touch with a little wind power
A few more years slipped by and they now could embrace
And they were happy they had been planted face to face
They stood for centuries happy and content in their place
Sadly they thought that this bliss would last forever
All life problems they swore to endeavor
They held each other through storms and sunny weather
Until one day his roots grew weaker
With every passing year their situation grew bleaker
One night a storm blew in and their situation was dire
The wind blew him over and lightning set him on fire
She lost some branches trying to hold on to him
She knew deep down to her sap that now her life would be grim
Without him by her side she started to cry
And with every eternal year that crept by
Her limbs no longer reached for the sky but drooped down to the ground
Cuz that is now where his charred remains could be found
She reached for him with every single limb
Her weeping went on each day of the sorrowful years she was filled to the brim
The monks took care of her but they could feel her great sorrow
They prayed everyday that she would stand strong till tomorrow
One day an old monk took a close look at the tree
And decided the pain had changed her so much that her name now is different by decree
So my child when you lay your tired head on your pillow
Remember her and all her seedlings are now the weeping willow
She's there to remind us of the loss of great love
That not even her seedlings could rise above
  Mar 2016 Julie Langlais
Little Bear
Things that make me happy..
I believe it is the little things
that are the biggest
...if you know what I mean :o)



little things make me happy
the biggest kind of happy I can be
and so I thought that I would list them
so that you can see.

okay so sunshine makes me happy
and cats and birds and dogs
and smiley happy postmen
and kittens and hedgehogs

I like bus rides that are easy
warm socks and and being tickled
walking home in daylight
burgers with extra pickles

I like holding hands and kissing
hot coffee, the colour yellow
children playing happily
sweet toasted warm marshmallows

I like friends that make you smile
even ones that make you frown
and ones that give you butterflies
and they will never let you down

I like sleeping late and bubble baths
words and reading books
blanket forts and fairy lights
sleepy mornings tender looks

I like chocolate coins in summer
iced cold drinks on hot hot days
words of love and of kindness
that make me smile for days and days.

And I like to know you're happy
no matter who you are or what you do
what makes me the biggest happy
Is knowing you are happy too.

internationaldayofhappiness :o)
  Mar 2016 Julie Langlais
Pixievic
I can taste the colours of your kiss
Fiery crimsons bursting through
Mellow yellows
Exploding into sweet tangelo
Cool blues
Turning violet
As my senses play this quiet duet

I hear music when you touch me
Bass lines throbbing alongside
Exotic rhythms
Tumbling into trembling strings
Soaring voices
Dulcet tones
Within your music my body groans

I can smell flowers in your words
Tender Honeysuckle pervades
Alluring Rose
Sweet Alyssum quickly follows
Heady Jasmine
Lascivious Lilies
Impressions that set my spirit free

You muddle my mind with euphoria
Sensibility rearranged
In anticipation
Of this intoxication
I live
In Synaesthesia
Whenever you are near

(C) Pixievic
A friend issued me a challenge to write a poem about Synaesthesia (the ability to taste colours or see smells etc) this is what I came up with .....
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