Collect all my
Tears and store
Them into a glass
Wine bottle, count
Them one by them
And don't dismiss who
I was to you and what I
Could do, lucky I'm not
As vengeful as I used to be
Now I've learnt being a better
Breed, one who doesn't slash your
Tires, most importantly one who doesn't
Slash your throat, do you still have hope?
Luckily I do, that's why I changed at the last minute
Not for you, for me.

What is a poeta
If they can't speak
Their thoughts.
What is a poeta
If their soul is
Bought.
What is a poeta
If they censor
Their words.
What is a poeta-
Ones voice who
Is heard.
What is a poeta?
Me and you.
Poesía can't
Be silenced,
We're not from
This world, were
Different, were
Truth.

Late Sunday mornings beside 'Rabbit rock' on the walk home from Scott Lake , across the highway down Hemphill Road toward beautiful Camp Creek ... Blackberry stained hands , prying waters in search of crawdads and mud puppies , jumping 'Bobwhite's' along the Pine forest edge .. Whitetail tracks in every direction , homeward bound through fields of corn and sorghum ,  summer sky filled with the glorious music of the Bentley Hill UMC choir , reverberating through the wisteria scented countryside ...

~~
Lo! Large Small Stairway of Dreams
Covered with Slithery algae wearing a blue green rug
Suddenly Stood lopsided
But there is Still Speed
Wants to adopt another Shelters

Desert mirage far and near
Looking for an Oasis
Thirsty Heart wants water
Though the Scorpions wandering
In the Hot dry Sand
Of life keeps evidence

Dreams and Entity
As the Fantasy of the Cloud and Rain
However, the Truth may be Solid black
After Cleaning with Rain,
The Heart of my beloved
As the Bright Raft of Autumn Sky

Swept under the Shadows of the Evening Sun
In The Dull moon of Dream's Land
Love and Dreams mingled within a Solitary Dream
While the Fog lights lining
Elusive Emissions Of The Exhausted Heart!
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
....

Barbecue is blowing in the breeze , the city of Jackson is "rolling up the streets " ..The old soldier guards the city square , thoughts turn to Saturday night , stripers at the lake and the devil-may-care ..
Shady southern avenues and picnics at Indian Springs , lazy Sunday afternoons and playful children on dead end streets* ...

The abysm of the unbodied Infinite;
A fathomless zero occupied the world.
A power of fallen boundless self awake
Between the first and the last Nothingness,
Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came,
Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth
And the tardy process of mortality
And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought.
As in a dark beginning of all things,
A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown
Repeating for ever the unconscious act,
Prolonging for ever the unseeing will,
Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force
Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns
And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl.
                                         --By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I

~~
Away A Spring comes
Through the windows of the old
Where yet I see the past times of gold
Though I could mention
Still takes some times to
Get out of detention
Of all those values of drowning dreams
Though everything passing with trims

Either Come back again
As any other forms
In the horizon of the Wren Drongo, Myna
In the Sparkling bright days
As if red flamboyant of lost Spring
That only Says a beautiful String

But yet the dried leaves are floating
In the water of Calm Lake
Where yet I'm passing a fake
Within the game of light and shadow
While Love wearing a mystic mask
That confesses me too many tasks
Bright and dark moving with cradle

Forbidden to go near
That I Couldn't bear
Flood tide in the river
Full moon broken with eight pieces
In the silver light her silhouette stands on the shore
Behind I see the closed door
In the known Seasons of moon
Century's sigh as if an elusive tune

If slowly lost all
Put those dreams here again
Even I couldn't leave any pain
But the rainy season can be washed
Saltwater of eyes
I try to feel the bliss
Away, will return the golden
Days of Summer  
Off course there will be
Something on the bottom
Love will come on the
Cloud's raft of Autumn
Away, A Spring being a call of beckoning
~~

If you are going to let me fall
Have the *****
At least
To pick me
Back
     P...
U

The snake
N
E
V
E
R
  Bites
O
F
F
M
   O
     R
       E
T
H
En it
C
A n
Ch
Ew.

Mother is on the move
Today
Mother is making new choices
Today
Mother is cherishing her
Daughter today
Mother is being mother
Something men take for granted
Today I'm being mother
Not some stage act
Or stage map.
Mothers work
Not needing a job
We choose to work
For our daughters
And families
We are mother's,
We are something not just part of man's extra ribs.
We are mothers:
I'm part of something big.

I should have known better
Releasing the thread
I was concerned but yet OK for myself to feel content
Yet content I went through the traffic of life, leg's crossed
Arms were bent forward in a state of comfortable position.
Yet when crying didint lose my invention,
Of the better things to come
I slapped my hand back
And now I'll live
And have fun.

I have done time in the prison of the mind

sewed a blue chip on my  shoulder

left the valley to roam and wander

nurtured a black, tormented seed

gave myself over to a blind man's need


I have done time in the sanctity of the moment

stripped down, undone, naked, free

felt the healing waters wash me clean

nurtured a bright, unfettered soul

gave myself over, finally whole