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 Aug 2019 Melissa Rose
roumen
Long road
To heven..
It is ending somewhere..
Dark road
To hell ..
It is leading sometimes.
Light road
To the sky..
It is flying somehow..
Curly road
To the moon.
It is bringing  you someone.
In your day
In your life.
In your dream.
To hug.
To love .
To kiss.
The gift of love ..
It is hard road..
..to your happiness..
 Aug 2019 Melissa Rose
roumen
You are so beutiful
To me..
You are walking slowly
Beside me...
You are smiling happy
For me..
You are dreaming softy
With me..
You are living fully
In me...
You are loving unconditional
Like me...
Where are you?
Did I dream about you?
Did I walk with you?
Did I live in you?
Did I love like you ?

You are so beutiful to me.
To me.
Me..
You..
Time is sleeping next to us.
To us...
We..
You ..
..... are so beutiful to me .
conscious about subconscious
moves and twists she hated 

to lie but there it was

the life getting the hold
the songs where the tears
a boy where no love
a kid where no desire
no fear while a mortgage
no shame while a contract

so there it is then

the little voice holds no music
the life keeps her promises

conscious catches subconscious
While walking, I feel a sudden pace
know the words before they come
up, all because of street signs,
parks and tumbling thoughts.
Of thinking of you. My pace
skips a beat, my words stop.
The sun shines and I hold you dear.
The rain pours and I hold you, dear.
You are in my house and I want
you there. You remedy my world
and we cook a meal and talk.
You take me to the river
and back. I have fallen.
You always say
Ow well and I
appreciate that
But you know what?
Such a coping skill
I'm just intrigued
also a bit sad, I guess
The phones, the fastness,
a vastness, non-communication
and commuting, I guess
I think of you yet do you think 
back at me? It was on
the radio they said to leave
politics to politicians
The world is unjust, amidst
rumours and facts, and
will always be so try
do the little things
as little as possible
for the bigger corporations
with a carbon footprint
I guess I just discovered
I very wish for love
connection, a kiss and
you showing me
the blue flowers
the grey water
Indeed not that much
to ask, she said
with the Deborah Harry face
with tiger heels and a bright coat
who's born in the city
who's leaving her diet
that loves to dance in her room
that digs to read in a park
Bless all girls, bless all
I turned into a positive day
Nicer to look that way
Start counting...
He was a run of the mill
Black and white cat,
a kitten adopted from
a cardboard box, out
front of the Farm store.

Took him home, fed him well,
he soon claimed our barn as
his own place to dwell.

Grew big and fat from eating
rat, roaming the farm from his
home in the loft.

I installed a pet door in the
garage as winter approached,
soon three Barn cats, including
Jerry moved right in, sleeping
all warm and winter content.

Jerry a Super Ninja cat,
hunter extraordinaire,
every day rodent or bird
remains laid at my door.
As Homage or proof
of his hunting prowess.
Unlike the other cats
he was indifferent to the
need of human affection,
aloof and independent.

But as he aged he was not
adverse to claiming my lap,
purring so loud other people
could hear it from a distance,
drooling while purring,
creating small drool puddles
on me before leaving.

He came when I called him,
or when I fired up the barbecue,
He was a supreme feline opportunist.

Jerry was the king of his domain,
strolling the property with regal
impunity. A feline of distinction,
Battle scared from doing his duty.
We all loved him for the guardian
friend he was.

It has been over a month now,
Jerry has completely disappeared,
after being on the job for seven years
never straying or missing.

Taken I surmise by some predator
of wing or paw. We searched and
called but he never returned.

Life's cycle can be cruel, but it's
the order of things. My friend
Jerry cat will be sorely missed.
First my pet mallard male
duck Don of five years taken.
Now Jerry perhaps the same fate,
each a loved friend mourned.
Only animals you say, no not only.
The whole world has PTSD,
brought about by watching
far too much TV.
Normal people becoming
neurotic or psychotic
by all the "Breaking  News".

Talking heads spewing fearful
endless chapters of dread,
all with their own ax to grind
into our heads, day after day
after day until we want to scream.
Real news or fake, impossible
to know the difference.

A political landscape strewn with
landmines of division and hate.
Melting Ice, and adverse weather,
hurricanes and tornadoes devastate
and forest fires burn, as racists and
terrorists abound at every turn,
and crazy's with military weapons
killing us for sport, just to make
the nightly news, as our nation's
infrastructures crumble into ruins,
all "Breaking News day and night",
while we and the world choke and
quiver from an excessive Carb diet
of information overload, trying to
sleep bathed in bad dreams, laced
with too many strong doses of PTSD.
When is enough, enough,
the saturation point reached?
We've no choice but to disconnect,
Stop letting all that stuff into our
heads. Switch off and take a walk,
hunker down with a good book,
tend the garden, hug our kids,
learn that less is more. But make
sure come next election, there is
a Political reckoning and a White
House cleaning and fumigation rendered.
When my eyes met the depth in your eyes,
The earth stood still and I flowed in the fragrance of love.

©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
#29.08.2019#love is a dicy emotion.
I had to lose myself to rediscover myself.

©Mrunalini .D.Nimbalkar
#31.08.2019#single line poem#enigma#
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