Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2014 Dianna
Yhama ButterFly
Mornings are wet

sun peaks behind dark clouds

harsh winds blow

tree leaves sing

bees pollinates nature

flowers blossom free

frozen petals question Spring

why Winter refuses to leave

It holds the seasons hostage

with warm days and cold nights

and the earth caught in between

~Butterfly εїз 2014©
Dedicated to the unstable seasons winter and spring.
 Apr 2014 Dianna
Jayanta
A grass land was there,
Birds use to dance around,
Their song echoed around,
Snake use to wonder around!
A grass land was there,
Porcupine, Rabbits, Pangolin........
Tidy around!
A grass land was there,
Raindrop meanders around!
*
Now only building and terraces are here!
Car and two wheeler running around!
Noise of human voice and machine thunderous around!
People use to say, everything is developing... in and around!

Still I am searching around
The elegant
Birds, their song,
The gorgeous
Snake, their beautiful scroll,
The Splendid raindrop on grass!
Still I am belligerent,  
Powerless to remove my childhood memories!
*
Still searching..........
The grass land....
Birds..............
Snake...................
In the town where I was brought up, a grass land was there, that was our wonder land, now everything replaced by human settlement
 Apr 2014 Dianna
Jayanta
My dear,
We have
Lost your image!
Display your vivacity!
Unable to recall your voice!
Speak loudly,
Through dancing with wind!
Forget your fragrance!
Spread it through wave!
Unable to recall your colour !
Delighted with your blossoming flower!
*
She replies.......
How can I?
Your bulldozer relics us!
How can I?
Your buildings stifle us!
How can I ?
Burning fuel of your vehicle and machine,
Intimidated us!
How I can
You called us ****!
How can I ....................?

My dear
Our imp dominates us!
Please salvage us!
**
My dear
Please extend your hand
To clutch and revive us.........
 Apr 2014 Dianna
witchy woman
the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.
thoughts.
 Apr 2014 Dianna
witchy woman
You mold me like plaster
in the tight grip of your
chiseled hands

from working out in fields,
fixing all those cars
and every song you've ever played
has made those hands

driving yourself to hell knows where
taking a buzzer to your hair
and all the shots, drugs cut and rolled
have engraved those hands

and now,
here sits she
he thinks she's an angel
her eyes like the sea
voice like a dove
in which she craves
he's learned to love

he picks her up slowly
holds her warm and safe
until springtime slowly makes her way
her heart, a delicate beat
softly saying


I am privileged to be held by such hands.
sigh him.
Next page