At my birth I drew my first breath...
my cries an announcement of my existence
My arrival.
And yet as I walk upon the water,
I stare and see you, a cold spectre above my crown.
Though I age, I feel your air circle around me.
As I age, I see your wings are aglow.
As I age, I'm nearing, nearing towards you.
And yet you stand, everstill and true.

Bask in your originality
for all the world
to see.

Make sure that you find
before you seek.

I grew up being both loud and quiet.
I grew up speaking but was never heard.
I grew up seeing but was never seen.
I grew up helping others only to be back-stabbed.
I grew up proud but clouded by shame.
I grew up with writing because it was healing.
I grew up told I was ugly, never beautiful.
I grew up thinking I would never be good enough.

In short,
I grew up a rather lonely, sad, broken little girl.

I told others to keep going but I never followed
through with my own advice.
Hence my philosophy of,
"It's better to walk away than fight and be right."
Which is why I don't like arguing.
My doubts were so big that I was trapped
down a well,
drowning in my
LOW SELF-ESTEEM
DEPRESSION
ANXIETY
FEARS
PARANOIA
and wearing my heart on my sleeve,
all the while.

I didn't see who I was in my reflection,
I just saw negativity and I would cry uncontrollably.
I know I can't get back the time I've lost.
I can't restart my life with a push of a button.
I'm still a girl in a woman's body.

If only I knew everything I know now
when I was...
when life was more simple.

I want to feel proud enough that nothing
that can bind my wings.
To everything I dream.
Everything I want to be.
Not just lil ol' me.
Scared little Lyn...

As the sands of time run,
wisdom comes with every deed I do.
Every mistake I made.

Sweet Sibyls of eld
who sing of mysteries held
My envy flowers

How I yearn to see
The written future for me
Miracles and pain

Do I want to know?
What you see in crystal *****?
The magic's in me...

A concrete angel
runs her fingers through
silver strings.

Lose yourself
in the depth of her
sad blue eyes.

She glides over
streams of restless arms,
an empyrean light
flying through umbran
constellations.

She is neither
deaf nor numb to
their pain as her harp
sings with sweet sadness.
As she wonders...

How strange and sad it is
that death gives peace
more than life ever did.

This poem marks my wishes that
I want in this New Year.
2017 is now a closed chapter,
and I hope to leave all the misfortune behind.
So I pray

That this year, I will be blessed with happiness
and stability for everyone; my three families.
My friends, my blood, and HelloPoetry...

This year, I will be able to hone my craft
and have to confidence to go
after my dreams.

And finally,
I pray that my mother remains in good health.
Let me not worry about her all the time.

2017 has been a year of heavy burdens.
Where I felt like I couldn't handle anything.
I know there is no end to our burdens, so
I ask for you to broaden my shoulders
So I can bear the burdens
and grasp my blessings.

I've been fighting so many battles...
My sword is weeping
My shield is dented
My armor bloodied

The magic in my eyes has long
since been robbed from me.
Though are I times I want to
roll over and die,
I don't...

One cannot be strong all the time
But I try not to let others see the chinks in my armor
Of my mind
Of my soul
Of my heart

I'm so tired...
But now,  at least,
my heart is now accepting a concept I have always known.
I now sees that grave reality.

It's you I want.
You.
I want who you are, all of who you are.
I want your fire and your water.
Your light and your darkness.
Your Heaven and your Hell.
All your jagged pieces
so I can help to
complete
you.

For us to love, truly love,
we must look at the beauty within.
I've come to realise that longing
for
the most handsome of men
or
the most beautiful woman
will only leave one with
a sour heart,
and
a mouthful of bile.

Now, I see and I tell myself
to love one not for their looks
for that will wither.
To love not for their wealth or status
for it is only temporary.

But to love the heart,
fully and purely.

Just because the Knight's armour shines
doesn't mean he's not a monster.
Just because she's a distressed Damsel doesn't
mean that she is without fault.

Love is life's adversary in every single way.
Treasure all of who they are.
Don't let society blind you.
Look at them hard,
long and deep.

Hear their song and see their light.
Soothe their pain and calm their demons.

This is how to love.
Truly love....

What makes a monster and what makes a man...?
Well, it's our potential
For both great good and
great evil.
No man is a paragon in this world.
For we are all flawed
by nature.
Face the truth, there is a beast
in every man.
While many try to hide it,
There are those who unleash it.

Listen as the willows weep
Silvern rain and wounds are deep
Secrets words are put to bed
Where there are many tears to shed

Open your kind hands to reveal the seeds.
Let flowers be sunshine for the
human soul.

The cloud's lullaby is a lyre
echoing with sweet sadness.
The roses are embraced by a blanket
of clouds.
Of love.
Of need.
Of want.

Don't pick a wound that
you want to heal.
If anything, embrace
and kiss your scars.

Almighty God, Protector and Giver of Life,
I come to you this night for I have lost the light
and stepped into the valley of darkness.
Forgive me, for I failed you, breaking a
promise that I so wanted to keep.
I ask you to absolve me of my sins,
and of these demons of anxiety, inadequacies, and failure.
For as your Child,  I am the temple of your warm light.
Allow me to repent so I may spread
the beauty of your glory to others.

Too many underestimate the power of the pen.
They are mesmerized by the argent arc of a sword.

How it picks and plucks a perfect rose.
How it cups and embraces the life of death.

Draw me close to you
Like a butterfly to a distant moon.
Light up my path,
so I may hasten forth sure minded.

Tender is the sun after silvern rain.
Warming is our laughter after sorrow.

Dreaming intertwined
We lose ourselves in the clouds
Spread our wings of love

The phoenix heats the cunning peaches of June
Ah, the summertime has such
artful pity.

Resting redly in an ocean of shadows
is Scarborough Fair.
With sweet and cardinal scent of the roses clinging to the air.
A woman of cherries, potential untapped.
With a harsh fate upon her as well as a pact.
A child born to parents star-crossed.
A love that was denied and a high cost.
I see her there
Fair-skinned, dark-haired.
Lips of rosed sin
And slinks the world prepared.

And with this woman walks the four,
Weapons of mass destruction that
the Devil would **** for.
The sass of Parsley
The wisdom of Sage
The touch of Rosemary
The passage of Thyme

"I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks; and ever thanks; and oft good turns."
- Sebastian in the Twelfth Night.
Written by William Shakespeare.

My sienna-limbed Ya Amar,
who whispers love in my ear at night,
make me your divine golden lyre,
dancing and touched and kissed by fire.

We learn history
We cup history
And we all strive to make history
And in history, we learn
and life seems to repeat.

~ ⚪ ~
Take a closer look
'History'
All of us learn his-story
and her-story.
So, let's do it.
And write our his-story.

Imagine seeing a silvery blade dancing to the music of death.
Marred by the poetry of blood
A trumpet to the cries of war
But it also reflects the wielder.
When looking at it, you can see yourself.
But in my eyes, I can see the steel's heart.
As it's in your hand, preparing to protect, it's polished until it shines like luna wildfire.
In the end, I believe the true beauty of a katana comes not from the hilt or engravings, but from the steel.
How many songs has it sang in our battles, can you imagine...?
A katana's beauty comes from the polished steel as it's shines so brightly
with victorious prayers.

So many words unspoken from various flowers,
but they live and thrive.
They are tender creations of God with radiant souls.
For in a world so muddled, they are rays of beauty.

Your fingers are pens on a page
on an autumn day.

Love                                          Is
A light        that    banishes         the    darkness
A stony cliff   that becomes  a         calm meadow
A mirror   that looks deeper than    physical features
A letter          that is        can be    read   on the   face
Muted,            as it         doesn’t    listen to rumors
Sweet rain                 that falls on all the grass
A painkiller       as well    as an infliction
A sickness   remedied  by patience
Fire that warms and burns you
A kindness with no ending.
A sliver of heaven
on this hellish
Earth

There is one thing people can learn from Halloween.
We live a a world where people are
tricked by the ones
they treated right.

Let me stay in a peaceful dwam
on my feather bed.
Soothed by the song of a thousand tears.
Half buried in embodied pillows
scented by pink lavenders, by
the warm flames licking and
dancing in the fireplace,
With a silver notebook
and a golden pen resting
by my side, my soft
wavy ringlets fall
around like
petals.

I think it's relevant to say
that Fire's a jealous element.
Think about what we associate fire with.

Passion.
Anger.
Hatred.
Love.
Lust.
Excitement.

All of which make us human and gives us
our daily fuel.
Fire is never as steady as water.
Fire can grow like earth but left unattended,
it will grow wild in its freedom
encasing all with singeing kisses...

Licking, eating....****** all that is
green with the touch of red.
Leaving nothing but black blankets
and smoky embers in the air.

Fire is much like a jealous lover.
Enraged that it can never be still
or freely grow without the manipulating
hands of man.
One kiss of freedom claws at the life around.
No different from us when we're pushed to
our limits.

When we met someone we like, there is a spark.
That spark becomes a flame when we fall in love.
And when life comes and hits us, it can become
wild.
And in that wildness, we lose our sense of self.



Fire is not a gentle master
Within our hearts and on the palm of our hands.
Nor is it, nor will it ever be
a gentle lover.

Blood is our poetry
Soul is our music
Hearts has our passion
Minds are our guides

From the shadows, the Hiddens Ones lurk
Transient life that make a cause immortal

The magic of madness has been cast.
I'm being pulled apart by the seams,
stumbling upon the unfound door
of my flaming Wonderland.

~ ❁ ~
To live a world of sweet little Butterfleurs
is not realism and illusion to part.
But to acknowledge a shaft of heaven's light
to let flames purify your heart.
~ ❁ ~
Sweet little Butterfleurs,
Come and whirl around me
Shimmering gale of colours
Show what happiness can be.
~ ❁ ~
Sweet little Butterfleurs,
Fluttering flowers touch the sky
How I wish I had wings
So I too could fly.
~ ❁ ~
Sweet little Butterfleurs
Who embody love in a flash
On a loose hand, you fly.
In a grip, you turn to ash
~ ❁ ~
Sweet little Butterfleurs
You make me wary of what life brings
For when you glide past thorns,
I worry it'll tear your wings.
~ ❁ ~
Sweet little Butterfleurs
Let me stay here
In the valley of Elysian,
where there's no cause for fear.
~ ❁ ~
To live a world of sweet little Butterfleurs
is not realism and illusion to part.
But to acknowledge a shaft of heaven's light
to let flames purify your heart
~ ❁ ~
I live in real fantasy
Where my inner child runs free
I dance, I laugh, I sing
I imagine all that can and what will ever be.

Upon every body of man and woman alike

are scars. While we are walking memories,

the scars are marks of various journeys

that life inflicts. While we trudge and trudge

and trudge and trudge, our true selves

scream to be heard. To be free of the demons

born in the wombs of the mind and heart.

Life inflict scars. Scars sing with stories.

And stories are all that live on in the end

for we never truly die, as our legends

survive.

Within my floral heart
are songs that have grown
from flowers I either
love or loathe

The lily is one that I love
And there are many variations
to be admired.
It is the blushing ****** of the water.
That wakes from much strife,
rising from filth for the
kiss of the sun.

~AND ~

Then there's the lily of the valley
the bright star of Morn.
A crying flower in my eyes
The lily of the valley among thorns
bowing their humble heads.
Frail clouds above whispering grass
that sway left and right, left and right.

Sweet watery beauty in one eye, weeds
hanging from a noose in another.
Out of the umbran moments, they seem to bloom
with their scintillating lights.
Blushing pink or white or blue or yellow
stars.

The earth is kissed and blessed with flowers,
each blessed with their own song.
Even I struggle to uncover their secrets.
Even I can not fully decipher their fragrance
All there is is fragments
so sad tales in desert air

Within my floral heart
are songs that have grown
from flowers I either
love or loathe