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Dawn King Feb 2015
where to begin
when the task is so mountainous
when all that can be seen is the unmovable
when the need to wretch comes as result of thought
when a heart may fail from silent screams turned inward
the beginning must begin
when there is no way out
when there is nothing left to give
when love seems an unrequited absurdity
when one more day will surely enable the morgue or sanitarium
the mountain is moved
Dawn King Feb 2015
I look at her mesmerized by the way he painted her
“Woman with a parasol” my favorite Monet
The way she haunts me upon examination of her stare
She is stunning in simplicity, white cloudy wisps
Placed delicately around her face and hair
She is at peace yet delicately aggravated
Her parasol so exquisitely placed
As if it were a shield against all that is wicked
She is so profoundly magnetic
I can remember the exact moment I first saw the painting
How long it took to break the grip of her gaze
In order to study the remainder of the piece
The field grasses painted to suggest a mild breeze
Her small boy standing aside her
But at the most finite spatial distance to
Leave the viewer in constant thought contemplation  
The twists and wrinkles in her dress that promote movement
Each nuance in concert with subtle direction
Back to her captivating esoteric stare
  Feb 2015 Dawn King
Jamie King
Her Aura is the aurora in Crystal skies, when she smiles heaven is alive, within her heart you'll find the sanctuary for love.

My heart would betray me for her and lead me to places where joy rids me of despair.
Consumed completely by love I'm dared by bliss, a stranger I've never met.
My mind a gallery of her beauty,
priceless masterpieces I shall never part with.

Starve me of food and water I can survive, but away from her arms I lose the meaning of life.
I seem to be infatuated with love. Well this one is for... You know who you are. I love you
/
Many and
Many years later
My Poetry books
That I had lost
From the middle of the bookshelf
Within Thousands of many other books
Where I have found
 
Utterly Unknown
Some Pages
Yellow
Pale
Is very difficult to read
Yet quietly reading
I read with a lot of the force
Crawling.
As a Small child walking
Many years later,
Understand
Know
Become that Strange Poem

The Poem
Showed me Dreams
Told me to Love
Strikingly,
Bought all the Colors of my Canvas
Drawn your Images
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In my Heart and the Soul

Then
You and I
Grew as a highly Sophisticated
Metaphor,
In an extreme
Cohesion,
Nice One

My Heart put on your Heart
In a Romantic Tune
Bode on a Small Boat
Toward a Tough Sea,
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In the Song of the Sea

Then
Sudden Sea Storm Came
Made Substantially Vortex water
We Drowned
Lost you
That also happened
Many and
Many years before
In this Sea and my Soul

Today I have found you again
In a Sprung Dream
As I lost you
Many and
Many years before
As if I'm standing
On the Shore of the Sea
You as a form of Sea Angel
Come forward to me-
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Tribute to the Greatest Romantic Poet Ever, Edger Allan Poe
/
If you like please Comment, Share and Repost the poem........
/
  Feb 2015 Dawn King
Isty
I
Coastin off
driftin soft
it seems like the thoughts
just come into to being
to become a loss
of a part
that i wish would
never have started
in the first place
these feelings touch me in oh so the worst ways
feels like ive been tossed at sea
stuck on this **** for hella days
So **** this ship
im over it
literally jumpin into the end
thats deep
where one is to tread water and never fully sleep
until its time to return to the grander skeem of things
why when its hypothesized are we so astrange
thinkin please no i dont wanna leave this place
crying out to whomever
wanting to change the weather
yerning to still feel this face
feeling of togetherness
in this entire being
but it can be misleading
you grow accustom and so fond of
the physical form that your seeing
If i had a choice
I would change my frequency
if only for a short time
to feel none of it at all.
#i
~~
Southern winds have gone away
The music player has hanged
When playing the last romantic song

The Chill North wind is Sigh of yours
Has grown the pale Afternoon
How stupid the fade trees Standing!

Distant garden flower's Petals
Wither,
Helpless,
Careless

Midnight dew
Create the illusion of Sound
Nearby Lamppost,
Standing in the dim light fog
Alone,
Retreat
As the Calling Owl of the Night

Smokes of Cigarette lost in the Shadow
Putting the day,
Slowly vanish before
As the Mist
 
Along the road that you have left
Looked at me Surprisingly
Opening the door,
Just want to scream for unknown reasons
Once Again
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
As the Calling Owl of the Night
/
dear poet/poetess
if like share your comments/ repost that inspire me..
/
Dawn King Feb 2015
tangled are you
tangled up in it
in it you fell, lost your footing
before you knew what was looming
and that you bought a ticket
straight to hell

tormented are you
like it was yesterday
in it you were, left standing
didn't know there was no landing
all alone on your own
profoundly obscure

twisted are you
twisted conflicted
in it you are, still afflicted
inter-wrought with captivity
another victim
of "The Bell Jar"

terrified are you
terrified solidified
in it you live, afraid to give
mortified paralyzed as horizons materialize
that shape-shift and betwixt
shattered emotive
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