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  Oct 2017 Sadia
Mike Hauser
He has the need to be free
She just needs someone to hold her hand

He's always looking for a way to leave
She believes she has found her man

He has a case of the wandering eyes
She only has eyes for him

He goes out wearing a thin disguise
She stays at home with mascara on waiting for her man

He has a squeeze he sees on the side
She only sees the best side of him

He doesn't want to be tied down in life
She only feels free in life with him

He'll lie to get anything he wants
She truthfully feels all she needs is him

He's learned to manipulate the do's and don'ts
She lives to give him everything

He only gives and always gets what he wants
She's at her happiest when happiness to him she brings

He cant wait to get away
She can't wait to have him home

She has no idea as of late
He left her a long time ago
  Oct 2017 Sadia
Sonali Sethi
She sees him standing on the train,
On his face, a thoughtful look
He stands out in his fancy suit
Like an interesting cover of a closed book

He sees her sitting on the train,
Her bright red sweater catches his eye
Her face is buried in a book
She looks up and starts to smile

He smiles back, they start to talk.
He speaks about his love for trains
She talks about her favourite movie
Slowly, he tells her that he paints

She talks about her English class
And how bright her students are
He talks about his latest paintings
And the gallery that made an offer

They chat for what seems like hours
He's never  talked so much
Finally, her stop arrives, shes tell him
"Let's keep in touch"

He sits at night, stares at his easel
To call her now, is it too late?
His father calls, "How was the meeting?"
He tells him that it was just great

She sits at home preparing
For tomorrow morning's class
Her phone rings and she grins
The Painter called, at last!
So this poem is based on two of my other poems, The Painter and The English teacher. I had this urge to write about them together :P
Please read the other two poems if you liked this one!
  Oct 2017 Sadia
Dani
She was night when I met her.

The hills beyond bathed in moonlight,
though she seemed to hide from faint starshine
sheltered and hidden: wrapped in a mystery cloak
woven from fibrous shadows and dyed
in the deepest part of the ocean with midnight hues
untouched by the constellations.

She was summer aurora soon after her night.

I took her hand into the dewy field,
we reveled in the damp and softened earth
and the stars blossomed: points of bursting light
fixed among the twilit blue-greens
like the blinking bulbs of fireflies
who floated between our heads.

She was daybreak after her sky turned aquamarine.

The stars hid themselves under our feet,
the sun appeared on our horizon
and painted our faces in pinks and oranges: her hand
so soft and gentle, slipped from mine
trailing warmth against the flesh of my palm
where her fingertips kissed my skin.

She was high morning when the sky’s pinks faded.

I cradled her face between my two hands,
pressed kindnesses into her cheeks
and turned our noses to the sunshine: her celestial smile
played notes on her lips,
singing lilting aria in a rising melody
as the light radiated warmth across her face.

But now she is a rainbow in refracted afternoon.

She gleams in every color now her cloak is shed,
red in heart, orange in grin, yellow in mind,
green in energy, blue in veins, violet in spirit: but most of all
she is soft pink, pale white, and baby blue,
a harmony of hues
which she had kept hidden under her cloak of night.
  Oct 2017 Sadia
Demential Mademoiselle
She slowly got up and hope that no one is awake to see her eyes bulging for help. She reached for her pen and that little vintage notebook that no one knows and started scribbling the words her soul screams for. She quietly sat at their balcony outside her room and let the moon illuminate her thoughts. She thinks this is the best way to get help without actually getting help from anyone. She slowly bring her hand to a move, a few strokes, a long hard press, a few soft ones, and a lot of semi-colon for her thoughts are an endless words to write. She looked up and count how many stars she can see and wonders if she can ever reach any of it.

Dawn is her favorite part. More than she loved dusk. It is when there’s nothing else illuminating the sky other than the moon and the stars and a few shooting stars. Where a few people is awake, lonely and feeling the same way she does. Dawn is her best example of her woe. Getting that sorrowful feeling just by looking at the night sky. Knowing that her only companions are the heavenly bodies.

She watches as her lean fingers trace the stars above her. Listening to her own distress; along with her soft breathing and dark, wild soul. Too preoccupied by its beauty. Mesmerized by the radiance of that brilliant, round heavenly body; giving her pain to it. Taking its brilliancy and leaving it dark and gloomy just like her soul.

Chasing what’s left of her, she remembered that she was holding a pen, she grasped for it hard and slowly stand up and throw it above hoping it would touch the twinkling light beaming beneath her.

Getting back to realization, she sat down and read what she has written and a tear fall down her pale cheeks, gazed at the moon and asking it to give her strength and take her pain away, but it didn’t repond. It just stared back, listening and letting her know that it understands her.

She peered. Few salty tears fell, few strokes to her hair, wipe her tears away and gone back to bed. Because she knew for herself that she could never wipe her despair away.
  Oct 2017 Sadia
So Dreamy
She loves him in the way morning air keeps her eyes open
In the way white daisies dancing through the wind
In the way salt water dancing in her hair
Or white sand that breathing under her feet

She loves him in the way fresh berries picked up at 5 am in the morning
Newspaper melted in one hand, chocolate melted in her tongue
And there's a cup of hot tea with smoke billowing
When sun shining bright on the summer morning

And birds keep singing

She loves him in the way tropical jungle that grows in her veins
Wild yellow honeysuckle that keeps her imagination alive
Or a field full of red poppies that blooms in her chest
And a watercourse that flood through her blood

She loves him in the way old songs that keeps her memories walk behind
Or sounds of blue waves that running in her mind
Smells of old library and fragile papers that makes her remind
Of the way sunflowers kissing the sun, smiling to the blue sky

And shooting stars falling down on a dark night

She loves him in the way butterflies bottled in her stomach
While cold night air whispers her name too much
When pale moon light burns the whole city
Ended with condensed vapor that ride into her nasal cavity

But she doesn't love him in the way red roses blossoms in her heart
Thorn of the red roses makes her lung hurt

Because
He doesn't love her back
He never does

That's the truth.
For everyone who read this: This is my first English poetry and I know I'm not really good at grammar (in English). So, I'm sorry if there are so many mistakes.
  Oct 2017 Sadia
Nathan Pival
I love the way you move
I love the way you walk
There is a certain grace about you
In the air that surrounds you
Even in how you talk

Your smile lights up a room
Your touch makes my heart
Burn with desire

Just being in your presence
Is time well spent
Feeling that my heart is safe
In your hands
Is priceless

You are the source
Of so much inspiration
It's difficult to explain
You make me want to better myself
Because you deserve the best man
That I can be

You "get" me
And I "get" you
I've never felt more
Understood or appreciated
For just being myself

You make me feel thankful
And I don't take that for granted

I love the way you move
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