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 Jan 2015
GaryFairy
who killed the songbird?
someone clipped her wings
now she can't fly
she never ever sings

who killed the songbird?
they cut off her tongue
now all she can manage
is a melancholy hum

who killed the songbird?
made her spirit die
never again to sing
never again to fly
 Jan 2015
Musfiq us shaleheen
/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry

How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air

Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma

Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation

The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning

Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky  
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun

Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take

Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,  
The poet will come,
A poem in the New

Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs

The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/

@ Musfiq us shaleheen
/
dear respectable fellow poet, poetess readers
if you like this poem please share your comments and repost the poem.
I will be grateful to you.....
/
 Jan 2015
Just Melz
YOU
  are no more me
    than I am
       *MYSELF

Yet,
    
you
      think you know
   *me

         like the back of your hand
   or the words you write
       or the rhymes you create
YOU
      might think you know how I feel
         or what I think
            or what I've done
    but
        you
will never understand my SOUL
    or the inner workings of my mind
So,
     you
         can go choke on the words you write,
     the songs you sing
and the hearts you steal
       because
YOU
      can never have my life
idek
 Jan 2015
Joseph Paris
He kisses her when she's fully clothed then sends her on her way He tells her that he loves her
when she's miles away
Write* me down
Paint me bright
Draw me beautiful
Watch me fight

Know my heart
Feel my soul
Think about me
Don't lose control

Don't let me fade
Don't let me die
Show me the way
Don't make me cry

Sing my chorus
Type my plays
Remember my words
Love me **always
 Jan 2015
ryn
.
   Curious minds,
      splashing under
       moonlight
       With
      outstretched kisses
     pulsating yellow,
     Over the awestruck
      magical
       rainbow,
         Feverishly tracking each
         supernova
      on sight.


   Resting the moment
    on a
     cresting knoll,
    With
   an audience of several
   time-worn
     rocks.
      Whilst the
        whistling sirens
        in the winds do call...
          Wasting away
        the ticks of
     worldly
      clocks.


        Evading with class,
       all
       heart's turbulence,
        Craters of sadness
          congeal
           in thin air,
             Glamorous amnesia
             falls
          with cadence,
         Eyes wide shut,
         susurrating
          a
           lost prayer.


             Lifeless gazes
               yield
               only
             abrasive tears.
             As erratum
              catches up
                with its
                 gaping maw.
              Hurling
            its anguish
             in
             rips and shears,
              Bleeding out
                of
               singing wounds
             so raw.

             But...
              time carries confident,
                its stock of
                   soothing balm.
                   Latent doses
                 hidden
                within
                 invisible vials.
                  Welcoming vision
                    with its
                    sunlit palms,
                   Staving the longing
                    for the
                    fear of trials.


                      Now hushed
                         remain the remorseful
                        battle trenches,
                        Deprived of their own
                          victims
                           ­ save gaping wounds,
                            Only
                        ­     faint faith
                                commanding
                ­                   corroded limp
                                   forces,
                                 Stirring
                                light away
                               from
                                all
                        ­         agony
                                    and
                   ­                doom.



                              Moonskittles
           ­                 *ryn
.
This has been an amazing experience!!! Big thanks to Moonskittles for the opportunity to share a page with her captivating style of poetry!!!
.
 Jan 2015
caroline
i can hear
the neighbors next door
falling in love,
while we lay here together
falling apart.
Words with ink
         Have not gotten me far
    They may have
            touched souls
   But they've left
              on my heart
      An unshakable scar
                 Cut up
            and bruised
A flaming meteoroid
       Calling itself a
    shooting star
Yet nothing more
     Than a
        disinegrating rock
Falling too far
         These
     words I rhyme
Simply show my only value
              Through this
I know
          where you are
      Falling from space
Into nothingness
            My shooting star
     Finally a remedy
           Healing
     the brokenness
               Of a
            love from afar


                  it


           **FADES
 Jan 2015
Xyns
She's a soft cool rain on a hot summer's day.
She makes me laugh with the funny things she has to say.

She's the beat of my heart, and the air that I breathe.
She's the sun and the wind, and (Autumn's) golden leaves.

She's the pride that I feel when I know she's done what's right.
She's that warm feeling I get, when I remember tucking her in at night.

She is homework and a busy social life.
She has this beautiful smile that could light the darkest night.

She is the scared feeling I have when she stays out late.
Or the feeling that I am losing her, when she wants to date.

She's the mixed emotions I have, as I watch her mature and grow.
I tell myself she will never leave, but, I know in my heart that someday she will go.

I hope the man that steals her heart, will treat her like a queen.
Because she deserves so much more, than a man that treats her mean.

I will always cherish the heart wonderful times we have had.
The best part of my life was being her dad.

So now you know who she is, she's my little girl.
I love her with all my heart and always will
Written by my dad.
 Jan 2015
Anthony Caceres
"Love me better", she says
"It takes time", I say

Living this mundane life
On a quest for a wife
Its something I strive for
To walk across the beach
Holding her hand
Ever so gently
and as I watch the sunset
I look to my side and see your smiling face
I wish you could take me to that place

Thats what I want
But thats not what you want
You want someone to love you better
Someone to listen more
Someone to listen for
You want someone to love you better?
But I can only love you the way I know how

So I finally understand why you walked out of that door
Why you stopped talking
Why you stopped walking
Why you stopped holding
and as my hand drifted away from a place called home
It searched over yonder
Another place of warmth
So as it slipped into the slit in my pants
and my back hunched over
With the thoughts of you weighing me down
Making me lose my seal
which used to hold me together
My mind runs rampant
and I wish...
I wish...
I wish I could've loved you better
 Jan 2015
Ena Alysopriono
I've been feeling so alone
And so lost
As if I was trapped in the dark forest of my mind
Not knowing which way is out
And which way is into further isolation
And than I walked
And walked
With music playing in my ears
Alone
But I wasn't lonely
I was free
And I wished that I could just walk forever
Not away from anything
Not to anything
Just walking
forever
Partially metaphoric, partially literal. Idk
 Jan 2015
The Anonymous Joker
the lines on our hands
mingle with the
roughness of the fibre

of our skins

talking of touches
long spent


-

there are grooves decorating
our feet

our soles are flattened

only reminders of the places we've been

-

crinkles beside our mouth and eyes

they speak
of smiles
to faces
whisper of tears
in air


-

sometimes
we forget
we drift


*and just like the last time,

we're drawn into the story that never finished
- a story never told
My response to the incomparable Belle B's poem, (Want) a choice: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1045032/want-a-choice/
 Jan 2015
ryn
.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.
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