Eye Balling  
I felt your eyes ******* my poems
You took away the Island flavor

Enjoining adjectives, nouns and pronouns
Only blends like a raw smoothie,

However, without crush ice, it's bland
Let’s be blunt nothing beats originality in poetry
Poems demand originality not mind ****

My heart whispered yes
And you heard
My soul spoke
And in that moment of celestial bliss
Your soul said yes
My spirit found yours
Entwined by feelings unspoken
And silent echoes of hope
I felt you
I felt your heart beat
Your spirit, your passion
Your sunshine
A full moon and star studded sky
Intimacy.
To me you are;
A reservoir of expectation

An untold story of love

Talk to the hand!  
Right back at you talk to the hand
Please don't anybody ask me to decide anything. I do not know
The difference between a man and a woman these days
Or which came first, the cadaver or the casket

It takes a woman of substance
to make a decision
my look on life
Is so **** complicated

I am never to be trusted; don’t even glance at me twice
I am the kind of gal, who usually waits three months to
To build up the courage to have *** first and feel guilty afterwards
Nor can I decide whether to put the past tense on most endings
Or capitalize my i or my t
however, where my dark mind goes,
Whether it's in a slumber mode or a trance
Even into a coma
life is nothing but a chance
Not even I know.

Now tell me which is more disgusting
A ****** Psychiatrists telling me about my life
While his is so **** up, from where he is going
My life is like a smooth running train.

I rather be found living amongst the monks
At the monastery in Nepal or the one in Spain
with they rich historical heritage, arts and culture
it beats this daily life of living in the dark

Even if I return to Time Square with my tambourine
Wearing colorful bright orange and tangerine
My brown slippers;
while I beg for passerby hard earn money.
as they watch me with pondering eyes.
please bare in mind
we all had our share on life..

Vivid images  
In the still of the night,
I saw vivid images of the strong
man I once love,
his emerald eyes, his
unshaven face prickly as the weeds
on my lawn,
I sigh!

Who’s this broken man?
Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like smoke rising in the open pasture
his broken portrait lean
against the dresser mirror

Love, hate, betrayals
I detest!
Confusion of a delusional stalker

Tomorrow when I am awake,
What would I remember?
Being his stalker or his lover?

Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like a two way mirrors,
however, only one view showing the
Shady side of the real him;
I detest.
his caretakers declared him as
fragile and unbalanced frame of a man
who was sadly tossed into the ocean of black tears

An wasted love affair ends
My heart is broken once again
a rainbow appears
I lost a good friend.

A treacherous heart set its mark
the lion roar into the wee hours
of the morning
My caramel body responded to his every word
kissing my shoulder was a sigh of relief for those emerald eyes
Is Irish balsam a match for this Ebony beauty?
My beautiful lips,
he long to kiss
we unfolded like hesitant daffodils in springtime
I never heard his spoken words
I only saw his mysterious face
How could I be in love with the eyes of the Irishman?
And the tongue of the drunken sailor
I knew that if he knew how I felt about him
his poetic way of thinking would
a set off romantic setting into cyber space.
making a love connection
without the distraction from a harsh world.

A Irishman and his midnight lover,
the mind, body and soul havoc the hearts
into believing that love is worth fighting for
Distant, time, space or even race,
Couldn’t take tear us away from cyber space;
my ****** quest was answered.

"Nibble my ear, I wrote
and softly whisper my name
a soft touch could command the heart to accept love
however, the thought of his emerald eyes,
his manly hand holding and caressing
my long slender legs while his hands and lips
Transcends heat from his
hot balsam breath upon my neck
his tranquilizing cologne made me sigh with relief:

Locking eyes against each other image
a mystical force  rock the airwaves and into cyber space
Let me set you drunk with desire
Gentle hold my face and look deep into my eyes
True love never dies
Our tomorrows look promising
We were one with the soul

My midnight blue satin dress
Someone said that it’s wicked, wicked tease
However, I know better:
it controls my every mood
Staying ahead as my curves survey the scenery
  I swayed down the avenues

Who’s going be the lucky fellow?
To auction it off my back
Who’s the one that
  see 3-D images with only one eye?
but to see what lies beneath this midnight blue
is sating memories

I felt the earth move under my feet
Pleats and creases;
hisses and random kisses
Tonight I am your mistress
and most of all
the goddess in the mist

Airbrush my body with admiration.
but never again say you love me
What is love?

Dry Spell

No action in the living room
No action in the kitchen
No action in the bathroom
What are your expectations for the bedroom?
Keep your expectations realistic.
(Nothing going to happen

I remember being alone on the bus;
it was about two a.m.
I was so afraid to take a nap ,
thinking of whom or what I might encounter
on the dark street of Baltimore
I ran my fingers through your soft hair
while you slept soundly next to me.

I felt a huge knot in both calves under the narrow seat
As the double-decker moves effortless along the
highway in the wee hours of the morning;
I kept up my end of the bargain to the every end

Why did she choose to travel so far away?
Our family weekend trips always make  me want to wail
  no more! no more!
However,  showing up and attending those long lectures
I knew deep within that it would have pay off academically
so here you are today….
Doctor L Graduate of 2010

*** doesn’t mean just ***
Some folk often mistake this word
for a roll in the hay
~
What would happen if someone?
In a crowd yelled ***,
and the other person
shouts fire, fire!
Which one would get the most attention?
this might surprise you
~
Just watch as the crowd move back and forth
back and forth
Pressing against each other just to take a look
Now that’s a ****** stimulation
On the other hand shouting fire
create a dangerous situation
so what’s good for the goose is not good for the gander

A body like mine
static flexing abs like yours
performance matters

so easy to be  
turned on, slow to be turned off  
simmer the moment



A woman is so hard to please


When simmering love
crooked the burner to high
a women in bed

let's not  discuss it
now , timing is  everything
  after  the  big one

The truth about this ****** thing
it creates more headaches than
Satisfaction
our thirst is getting more and more difficult to quench

~~~
so you lay there feeling empty
while his head sunk deep into your pillow
he slept,
you pondered

your thoughts turn to
a time  when it was you
and the pink *******....

Last night wasn’t like any other night
I was like a tower of strength
I took hold of the rein
mastered a very difficult task

I sigh
as I watch you snore
I took a sip of red wine
felt satisfy while the lion sleep  
however,
the pleasure was all mine


http://poetsintheattic.com/viewtopic.php?f=6&t;=223

unlike the sound of falling rain
please don’t put me to sleep.
Dream delivers us to dream
you summoned me and I became
and instant *** ***

Followed me with your bedroom eyes
The boy is now a man
So what ***** men do?
they don't make love like a rooster
deflower me like a teenager

Dreams deliver us to dream
Follow my lead my young cougar
****** me or move over

from miles across the ocean I can feel your presence
your emerald eyes piercing hard... deep into my heart
your hands felt warmer than my duvet
my sad day is forgotten

I need you here my dark night,
along with that old familiar musk

Those sweet, sweet tears form in your eyes
which weaken me to the point of no return:

I watch as you blast your biceps:
while you whispered
“I love you, baby I need you,

here I am making peak upon peak
As you seduces me,
loving you is so easy
stimulation is good for my heart

I thought that you were the one
To make me love again
until I heard your doubtful voice
as you said to her
She is just a friend
Only my friend

Fire burn!

I suppose this tattoo on my leg is a reminder
That I was once a fool .
Your name

My dedication to you
Inscription
I love you
Was I insane?

I really do remember those happy sun filled days
When we played outside to sundown
Using lots of profanity language like drunken sailors

I never knew the meaning of most of those words
However as kids we spoke those curse words with ease
a few of them still remain in my memory banks
Amene ta mere pourque je te refasse"
and Salope

I think we might be the last generation who got to play
Outside that late,
I asked my daughter two days ago to take the dogs outside
For an early morning walk
the response I got from her
Felt like if I asked her to go and robbed a bank
She boldly said to me mom
this is a team work,

He scratches my back and I scratch his
Why do I have to walk the mutt?
Because I said so child!

He hates it when I talk ***** during ***
So how can I tell him that he uses the wrong code
*** is not like texting
You mess up no auto *******

Man's sinful nature gives Satan great power
I see their faces,
I read their shared thoughts.
Anxiety is a human trait that reflects hate into extreme fears
because of money, fame, power
we compose
and disclose
or darkest  secrets without those noticeable twitch
~~
One small question remains
Who is going to be here to pass the next baton?
Injustice!
~
Pardon me; do you have any Grey Poupon?
No!
Only watered-down ketchup
Because only the young die young

I am the unknown poet
Trying to survive amongst the poet of poets
I am always woven word and thoughts
with whatever is on my mind

I go down by the river,
the rocks and
Crawly creatures speak to me in a poetic way
The moon and the stars
Crusade against my poetic ways of
Saying goodnight to them

I visited the highest mountain in my mind
I felt those waves of ****** ecstasy
So I said what it is,
Is what it is?
I am an unknown poet who seek adventure
The one who see the world in colors,
even when the clouds
Are gray and rain never seem to seize
Because
the very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure
I have a fear of deep water,
So, I never allowed my mind to
Take me under the deep blue sea
Where a school of tilapia nibbling at my feet
where the dolphins out bid its leaders for a piece of me

I am the unknown poet
trying to survive amongst the poet of all times
I am always woven word and thoughts
With whatever is on my mind
And it’s mostly for inner peace

Where are you tonight Irish Eyes?
come
use your lip to airbrush my body
Let it be
a mere transformation of a frog into a Goddess
use gentle strokes to activates
my wildest ****** fantasies
~
Stroke me, tease me upon my request
From my head to toes no time to rest
Airbrush my body with admiration.
Let it be your only salutation

I am your
dark rose from the garden
all eyes are upon you.
tonight we shall share something beautiful
my pink satin sheet  that never generates such heat
At last!
Our bodies unfold into a night of ****** fantasies
making love to you is going to be so easy.
Could Morning bring a new beginning?
~
Move slowly upon my request and trace my curve
tonight I am your mistress, your wife,
and most of all
your Goddess amongst the mist
Harden the steel of your love for me
Where are you tonight Irish eyes?
Where are you?
'

from slavery to  
sin someone had to step up  
  to save humans life

My Brand New Ripped Jean
the one that make
My curves becomes a liability
my long slender legs moves forward against the wind
displaying the warp and weft  throughout the fabric
~
Making my world look better
a wonderful appetizer for my admirers
until you said
"here comes my Queen",
Shucks!
Have you ever known the Queen to wear blue Jeans?
Shucks!

Ungrateful offspring
sharper than a serpent's  tooth
a mother’s love fails

The worst thing worse than bad poetry
Is when the poet forget to sign his name
Blaming his ideas on his penmanship
Even when he wants to be witty
His unspoken words comes across as
A lame duck poetic predecessor

A uprising poet should always
Cast his/her nets and wait to see
What he catches,
because words are merely an utterance
of ones language.

Making the foreseeable less predictable
my vernacular might seem deplorable
I celebrate life through poetry
I ‘m descended from royalty

Moved on, and don’t be discourage
I took that long word voyage
Some years ago to reduce sanity
I’m descended from royalty

To hell with the long lonely night
It’s just darkness over the daylight
Unlike most publicity-based celebrity
I’m descended from royalty

E-mail sent from Heaven

Written on gold and silver stone
Contents
My people have gone astray
to each his or her own way.

My Brethren is texting all over the land.
the lambs and sheep continues to be
slaughter by man.

As the undocumented skilled workers
watered the neighbor lawn
while the master of the home video tape ****.
neglecting his family in his home land

My creation has disappointed me tremendously
evil overpowered the good in man
therefore, no ending to this horror across the lands.

The popping sound of the firecrackers,
or was it the sound of DSM thirty four
rose to the heaven
the arch Angel sound the sirens

Man down, man down,
as the scream echoes in the airwaves,
another mother son lay dying
due to street violence,
Black on black crime
white and black catastrophe.
an frequents outbursts in society
by idle hands of a youth insanity.

The window are eyes ,
as it quickly closes its curtain
to a life uncertain.
so
its fades into a slumber.
building fear into the heart of the citizens.

Suffer the fool gladly
that he or she might see
the destruction of their ways.

CEASE FIRE ON STREET VIOLENCE.

The ******
Eye contact is key when giving a compliment
We give a compliment to the eyes
The hair, the lips, and most recently
the curves,
However, behold a beauty
Behold a gold mine
Behold an ugly beauty
Once consider to be so divine
most men speaks in tongues
as they feast upon this beast
a low carb appetizers
that never seem to please
white meat or dark meat
so juicy , sometimes sinful
a mystery, a blessing

this remarkable commodity can make one lose ones focus

Death is a mystery and, perhaps a blessing
Can you imagine a world where no one dies?
Someone have to die, in order for someone to be born
Too many mouths to feed, to many manmade diseases
I thought about life and death this
morning on a jam- packed train
I felt like I was going insane,
The air was impossible to breathe
The different faces, the looks and the wide eyes gazes
Imagining that in a never ending world
Where other human are glue to each other like Cubic Square
Without creating a history, or an anniversary..
Why think of death as a mystery, it’s a blessing
Even trees know when to shut it roots down

Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
I am flawless today
However, tomorrow I will be worthless
I am emotionally abuse
By the master of deception
Mr. Lover

The Windows are eyes
wings like an eagle with open arms.
welcoming us with a little charm.

A gesture to ease the hardships
this recession have cast upon us,
  prolongation creeps into another year
peace talks or summit talks our
lifestyles fades like tears.

Does anybody out there really care?

Debt collectors calling
all hours of the morning,
Paychecks shrinks,
Our state of mind is on the brink
Are we going under?
Like a loud clap of thunder.

Does anybody out there really care?

The front door smiles
and the wings are like open arms
is this our only charms?
recession leads to depression,
Is ruining our lives.

How do I shut off my emotion?
Locked up my heart,
And spare it from pain
I hate the dating game

how can I get to know him
his ways, my ways
I am over fifty and I hate to play
This game of love
love me or leave me
he loves me,
he love me not.
negative emotions

The
Rose of Dawn
I am not a poet,

I am not a poet but I wake up early in the morning
Just to listen to the sound of the birds outside my window
While my thought turns to you,
with images of a naughty school girl
I drop down my ideas here and there
I hope of releasing my inspirational thoughts without giving up
My entire self-worth or lower my self-esteem
With each tweets the birdies makes,
It reminds me that anyone can be a poet,
Which each sipped of coffee that slowly touch my lips
I can actually feel the adrenaline surging through my body
Word, words, ideas, idea, this sense of rush
My entire self-worth, my self-esteem, perseverance”
Always reflects back to my naughty school girl experiences

Then I remember why I am not poet, because
my words are considered to be a deadly weapon
like the relentless heat of the desert.
Inducted to be worst summertime madness
Even for a poet.

Three thousand times
I felt the weight of the world
  Sinking me into the floor,
I Embrace Your Failures!
Draw Strength
Each and every single moment
I  often took sneak peaks at your underwear,
and
Laugh out loud sometimes
squirmed  
Against Your brutal body odors

  I stood firm with my legs on the floor
No more! No more!
I am just an old worn out chair.

Nothing is more beautiful than sipping tea or coffee
While admiring lovely roses as they sprung into view
this beautiful June Morn

Or Even
hanging out on the boardwalk looking out to sea
Thinking of grandmother crockpot beer and beef stew

However, how can it be more memorable?
As old tires buried half way into the front lawn
Suddenly, you find yourself thinking about Dawn
Your classmates ...Cassidy and Tate
who recently passed on

Then you notice stifling weeds babies between the lilies
You bounces back when reality jogs your memory

The stifling **** suffocate the lilies
It’s a life lesson to learn from nature flowers
Unhappy raucous behavior every passing hour
through life little things

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool
Than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

― Abraham Lincoln
……………………..
Conversation with older folks always
Makes us think about
How complex we are
When asked 80 to 90 percent of older people
How are they doing?
Most replies are the same
“Child I am just waiting.
Waiting!
For what
To meet my maker”
From the time we were born
Plans were made for us
About our life
What are you going to be?
When we grow up
And soon has one become an adult
Our thoughts about dying
Frighten us
You are born then you die
Life might be simple for some
However, it a race to
get over unfairness of life

I met my third grade teacher last year
The first thing she said to me
“Did you follow your dreams?
A moment in an instant world
I felt like she were in control
^
She is much older now
However, nothing has change
We born, then we die
No matter how hard we try
The ropes never seem to loosen

One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn’t know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
as the men moves on to other women’s
Leaving many on suicidal watch

I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
they lives seem to be on a standstill,

The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
especially the men

Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their ****** appetites, so life on the island become a *** war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
where the flying fish is plentiful
whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.

Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
lined the walls of the dance hall,
or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,

The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
while the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place

The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim

The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
the music
Entices the air
the salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
and it was all well
on the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
or a refreshing Bank Beer

Give and Take
I do not speak of love:
because I struggle with its true meaning
I do not say good morning to strangers
What’s so good about it

I do not celebrate birth:
a child is born:
suddenly someone die
I do not exchange gift on holidays,
Or birthdays
because that cycle will continue
Like the never-ending story:

Life is a struggle within itself by having
To pretend to like strangers,
exchanging  gifts
It’s a profane of utter of words under one breath
the hellos, or good mornings

I do not speak of ****:
because the taboo is that only weak men get ****
Why?
Because there has been so little research into the **** of men

I do not speak kindly to any relationship with a married man
The Bible does not talk about dating
Only marriages, unhappiness,
And foreign lands

However, only spend time on those who love you
Unconditionally

When I go back to the Island
and my old friends said that they miss me
I miss me too,
the old me,
The one who had the futuristic ideas
the girl with
the ***** locks braids which is
so happy and natural like the
land
the same girl with the ashy feet,
the one who work the land with her bare hands

I was like a woman land army,
wild and carefree
the same girl who  use her teeth to peel
out the hard skin and bite into the inner part of
the sugarcane and chew it.

who planted Roses, Morning Glories
with a smile
The one who loaded sharp blades sugarcanes
on to the high trucks
in the relentless hot sun
or frigid rain
with aches and pain
and drank water from the pitchers
until the sun go down;

Somehow, that girl survive those hard days
Even when she dance until dawn to the
sweet sound of the reggae beat
and the oldies Goldie's tunes

The one who woke up early to catch the 5:20 am bus
to travel miles to work in
Wildleys for minimum wages.

So when I go back to the islands
And my old friends say they miss me
Old friends brings all of the memories
back into the present state of mind
for a woman who is growing old

May the birds of happiness
Always sing your songs
True friends stay together


Have you ever bumped
into a friend expectedly ,
You stop, you greet
You exchange small talk,

However, as they walk away
for a moment you wish
You wore a veil
just to avoid that road block
Without the willow sigh of... oh ****!

Suddenly the memories
Of your friend resurface;
You slowly looked back and wave goodbye
With a pleasant smile upon your face
Was that Betty or Mesha B?
Memories are supposed to last forever
True friends stay together

However, it's so hard to remember the names
of old friends from your past
  Without losing that gap of time and place
A loss or change, healing or new beginning
When everything changes; it changes everything

However, as the conversation end
With “Oh isn’t it a lovely day”
It was so good to see you my nameless friend
despite the memory loss

Every Moves Must Have A Purpose


Standing on the edge of the cliff looking down

at the muddy water

My body froze, my mind  
wandered about life altering

The floating leaves cluster against an old tree branch
the stronger ones, hurried along: an image of mockery
An ill feeling came over me:
What the purpose of living?
I saw the younger generation shoving us
Asking us to make room!
Make room
I saw injustice about to happen:
I felt the squeeze

lost for a moment
Numb and ill emotions

Should've I jump
or should I move away from the cliff

"Hiss “whisper the wind."

What you are about to do is a sin.

Who do you think you are Tim Tin?

I felt a sudden tug on my arm

a little voice whispered,
“Satan you’re a liar.

Turn down that heat on the fire,

Unhand me!  
I wouldn’t be dupe by you

I stumble for a moment,
Gasping for breath
as I held my chest

Was I brain-dead or just simply

Mad as hell?
suicidal thoughts

Every move has its purpose
And life is to move on

Thank God I didn’t take that plunge
Every Moves Must Have A Purpose

To be the one in the crowd, who whispered words
no one would ever hear
To be the raven, who has never had the guts to
return to Noah Ark;

To be the dry, red rot shoes
who have never been worn because
07 was a size too small for those cow hoofs

To be the Cardinals from around the world
Who has to selected the next 17th Pope
As the world watch:

To be the end of a journey for the new born:
whose mother lay helplessly on the stretcher
because of her lifestyles:

It would be a blessed day not to be awaken
by the sound of the roaster who croaks
no blogging, blogging, or no ranting:
What would be sole purpose?
Not to do the things I love?

To be one who have to take a slice of bread:
And make breakfast for five hungry children

To be the one who said:
Today is the day I am going to look for a job
After spending nineteen years
with the same employer
Just to be ******* by the same company
Who claims the company is going to be bankrupt
No money for his employees
~
I have just begun to see life as it is.
I need no sympathy:
I must be tripping
wake up and live

Another year without looking in your eyes
another day, another month,
feels  likes eternity
another dream,  another anxiety
another night, another dream to be ignore
I hope that you know you set my soul on fire,
With your absence, leave a lot to be desired,
Time is against us,
Loving you is all that matters….
Circumstances:
My dearest Francis

Poets, songwriters, and composers
Were absolutely correct when they say
Love is blind and justice is impaired
Is the dead better off than the living?
~
I slowly open the door to the room nineteen
Somehow, the door made a shrieking sound
They all turn and looked at me in slow motion
I saw the hatred that was in their eyes:
it felt like being bitten by poisonous flies
Clones and comics together in one room:
On the hottest day of June
~
You Aint Seen Nothing Yet
in comparisons to a Amarillo
Or daffodils desperately trying to emerge in coldest day of March
So, I said hello my fellow poets,
~
When are we going to stop laying wreaths?
at the tomb of the unknown?
When are mothers and fathers going to say?
“No to their sons and daughters behaviors
There is a war, going on right here amongst us
Stop the hate, stop the bigotry
Plant a tree in the name of love.

Sometimes when we touch
The honesty too much, Dan Hill
honest and sympathetic approach
to that ongoing question
Do I you still love them?
~
I remember when I said
I love Him
It was so easily said
the glows from blushing,
that healthy feeling,
~
Now our love stand still likes
The curtain on my window sill
So decorative, simple details
unlike our relationship
Come hell or high waters
something is definitely missing from our life
it's
my love for him which
Changes like my curtains according to the seasons:
Sometimes when we touch
The honesty too much;
Thank you so much Dan Hill
For that clear view;

When you woke up to the sound of the water dripping
Knowingly you
Lost the love of your life, fire of your *****
Suddenly, you silently scream
for human contact
~
my heart pounding so loudly: I had to responds
to my brain quickly. To prevent an heart attack
It seem once again I have lose
With my fault of my own
I have chosen the wrong man
An elder
to fulfill my  ****** desire
Blind love is not the way to choose your lover
His favorite word: to his problems
That’s Life my honey: that is life
His life not mines

I have learnt to deal with being alone at an early age
saying goodbye with simple hands gestures
“Goodbye!
goodbye
I smile like a mute warrior within:
To Hazel, Jennifer, Marline and
And most recently my best friend
~
Instead of saying it from my heart
I wave to him for a less than a minute
Looking straight ahead to the future
~
You must never allow surprise feeling
To sneak up on you,
at the end
This kind of feeling would either break us
Or strengthen us
~
Always think of the prayer positions
the tight folding of the hands,
the goodbyes and the hand gestures
of awkward moments during
our final farewell

When your heart refuses to accepted love
You must clear your heart and let it go.
Or should you take it really, really slow
Look up above, look up above
for inspiration

A wild card or a life time gamble
a rush of adrenaline might  boost you
Or perhaps a sudden stumbles and fumbles
might defies your actions
Day or our lives, clearly in view

Heart of darkness shield like overcast
Upon a wounded heart
Oh! What a mighty task
Awaken by the light of dawn at last
in the shape of sterling silver mask
~~~
When dreams become reality:
It’s no longer a dream.
Heartbreak knows no gender

The blackbird lands on my window.
singing sweet songs of melodies
the same time everyday
such lovely songbirds
~
I knew
That he was delivering a message
His soft bird’s beak compose a soft melody
As close to a well-written composed symphony
~

The sun shine bright
Upon the window pane,
“What’s it: my little friend?”
would you like for me to
“ go outside and feel the
  lovely sun upon my face?
~
Spring is finally here,
Spring is finally here
Hip, hip hooray
~
The warm weather encourage my tulips to emerge
my red roses opening to the sun
With smiley gestures
Welcome spring with a warm embrace