Eve's a lovable sensitive thang.
Opting to pass usual good morning as some sang.
Skipping morning bits.. rushing into the afternoon.
She welcomed the mid day
Knowing  with it a smile was on the way.
She allowed early evening to greet letting things bloom.
Working away late evening as sleepy eyes rang.
Conversations a quick cute head nodding overhang.
Good nights are like lullabies of verbal hugs.
Wasted evenings are snatching from beneath feet taken for granted rugs.
All to start another night in shimmering thoughtful plights.
Tugging away ribbons in flights.
Meaningful minds quietly dreamin.
As Other are secretly scheming.
Attentions paid to faded good morning hello's.
With hollow tones from yesterdays grading zero's.
Wash rinse and repeating..
Behaviors doomed to be failing.
Creativity craves new feelings.
Rare moments  seems to be fleeting.
Evenings are acceptable, noons welcoming,
as are the rushing of mornings.
selinasharday rosePoet s.a.m 2019-5-1

show.U
show you my struggles
show you my pains.
open up show how I survived my hurricanes.
show my glories show you how I live my stories.
show you my love and my heart real veins.
Open up allow a peek of sorted things.
See how I put away my weapons, lock up my cries.
knowing I have bottled up tears from my eyes.
Hide my insecurities,
show things that keep me in prayer on my knees.
Uncover the things I adore.
Ask you in to come with me life to explore.
Ask you for your patience, Tell why I do  away with fears.
Put up rocks I use to build fences, let ya climb my walls built over years.
Ask to see your hidden rooms.
Deals with every one of your hidden dooms.
Search you down for your scars.
bring about my medicine jars.
Manage  your disappointments,
As we plan a future for better events.
Show me your souls window what grounds you eternally.
Show me what nurses you by design.
Allow me into your heart, help us to intertwine.
Show
Me the strength the root of your tree..
Show me lingering responsibility.
captivate with what last longer than physicality.
@H.E.R_Poetry all rights reserved 2019

Who's to say whats a good or bad poem.
The beauty of a poem is in the eye of the beholder.

What each individual can derive from it and relate to about it,

what each heart perceives from the logic/non-logic  of whats written.

A Poem may be super dope to one and not to another.

As readers we can encourage but lets not discourage..

Write on poets or simply writers. (if you must say your not a poet)

When One say's I'm not a poet.. hmm why not?..

What ever you write can pen on beautifully writing comes in a huge variety of styles..

Be free and expressive independently...  
Express on..

Who can tell the branch you can never grow up to be a tree..
Who can say ...
You will never expand creatively.. I see no talent in thee..
Encourage the seed the dirt and the tilled soil..
Be grateful for the air the wind the rains..
and all the contributing things that will make an existence blossom into a great visual expression.

@H.E.R_Poetry S.A.M 2019