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  Feb 2015 Ady
LittleFreeBird
I am always
Not quite undone
Ady Feb 2015
I took a blade home and tried it on
my skin as you would to a nice new
shade of lipstick.
It suited my skin and was long lasting.
I'm addicted; so much that I reapply it
every day.
Finally I've found, the perfect shade to
compliment my skin tone.
  Feb 2015 Ady
SG Holter
To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.
  Jan 2015 Ady
bluestarfall
She is the lady on the road.

She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.

She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.

She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.

She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.

She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.

She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
The women of a country are the colors of your flag.
Ady Jan 2015
Why I shouldn't do it
is a list at the very front of my mind.
It is comprised by  the mundane and insipid.
Little bullets with bold letters engraved and
edited every other day that
I didn't do it.

Why I want to do it
is a brief italicized and underlined word;
Liberation.

Why I shouldn't do it
is a desperate attempt at clinging
to each single facet of my prolonging days.
There are things like
-I have not read enough
-I have not seen enough
-I have not written it all
but Why I Want To Do It has added
neon lettering to that trifling word
and I am captivated by the prospect and
beauty of the light in the obscurity of my mind.

Why I'm making a list
is my hope that the amount of excuses
will surpass the weight of that word
and it will someday be crushed by the
pressure of
Why I didn't do it.
Ady Jan 2015
Not long ago, I dreamed I was swimming in the most beautiful water I have ever seen. It was a crystalline, pastel tangerine which was the product of the reflecting sun. It was too clear that it felt like air. I was underneath, swimming in its deepness and yet almost teasing the surface with the underwater ripples of my moving legs and hands.
There were iridescent green trees protruding from the side of the pool rooted barely to the edges of the patches of earth at the sides. Almost glowing from within with a light of their own. They were big and its leaves were plentiful. Evergreen, full of richness and budding inside this water world.
I felt content. At one point I was swimming with my head towards the surface but I was still submerged and the caramel rays of the sun caressed my body and filled me with euphoria.
I was floating underneath further and further mesmerized by the beauty and serenity.
I saw myself from somewhere above as I enjoyed the sensation of the embrace of the water and swam immersed in mirth.
It felt like swimming in my aspirations and inspirations. The softer side of imagination.
imagination, inspirations, aspiration, dreams
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