The deepest wound
is one inflicted
by the hand
that once caressed,
for it knows
where the softest
parts are…
A Broken Heart
    A Loved Heart
are not so dissimilar,
for they are both
the most fragile things
you will ever hold.

Hold them with care!

Amazing performance
Is the fruit of great efforts in planting trees

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

exPressing
      Respect
  peAce
rejoIce
       Sanctity
sovEreinty

I love animals:
They teach me simplicity,
Guide me through their courage,
Help me find my ways
Out of difficult days,
Kindle my hope
To keep praying and waiting!

But I don't like the deer:
It pushes me back
When Fear
Stands and stares at me,
And frighten me
To run away
Without searching for my luck!

It's a sunny day, the wind is much shriller;
Hang some negative words on the wire.
Forget for a few minutes; go out hastily,
They'd be all parroting with glee, freely.
You're astounded at the magic of them;
Think how possible, when no wizard came.
You throw them in a pond in petulance;
Their white petals they fan out thence.
You trim them with scissors, and snap;
Through the globe they smile and on the map.  
You string them in a piano and in a guitar;
On the air they dance about love and war.
You store them in a hive, huge and kind;
Their honey they bear for the whole mankind.

My book moon and water.. About love dream hope beauty inspiration happiness anger goodness etc published...
You are humbly requested to take the book.. Paperback plus ebook both available......
You could get  the link on Instagram.... I will be waiting for your response .. Hopeful of your support.........you could contact me on Instagram.. Poetpearl7992.... And get the link...

what horizons await us, what skies fasten
to the bright ambers of our dreaming bones?

our love, water trickling over
a pebble in a stream,

the whoosh of  
leaves and a shadow in the dark,

the ghost of a poem
written in a dream,

the splendour of the tide,

both everything and
nothing,

our love neither a poem or a sigh,
all the winds battling,

spring's blue moon waiting near the
water for one slow ripple to reach
out.

i have a blank canvas,
my poems like watercolours,
sweet blues and greens,
drafted in blossom.

spring brings new leaves
and budding flowers,
opens her eyes,
begins to dress the earth,
finds freedom in the flowing
breeze,
while the sparrows
sing like fluffed out
buddha's in the
hedge.

the blackbird dances on the lawn
(always in a tremendous fuss)
birds scrambling with
twigs and scraps of cloth,
chattering about the silks
of the blossoming sky
and the sands of the sun
blowing ceaselessly
in a gold dream of day.