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"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.
When you call a suicide prevention hotline, they will often ask you to describe to them 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste to help ease anxiety. I hope this poem helps someone struggling to look forward, because believe me, it does get better.
 Sep 2018 eleanor prince
Crow
She cannot see her beauty
It’s hidden by the lies
She cannot see her luminous skin
Or the starlight in her eyes

Her incandescent smile she cannot discern
Nor glimpse heaven with autumn hair
She finds no bloom in her rose kissed lips
The mirrors scorn she cannot bear

She loathes her form, her gaze only shows
Repellent, gross, uncouth
But the Maker’s hand has glorious woman shaped
If she could only see the truth

Her splendor revealed is radiance unbound
Making others seem weak and pale
And though Elysium descried, she sightless remains
Concealed by a hideous veil

I’ll wage my war against hell’s deceit
That her vision could be set free
And one day her eyes would be opened
To the beauty she cannot see
I saw a glimpse of heaven 
I wanted to reach out to the sky
not to touch any star ,
just to whisper to the moon 
'How beautiful are u !!!
Innocence  in her eyes
Charm on her face .

She was the one, who speaks through her eyes .
While others use to waste time putting into words .
Her eyes has their own vocabulary
What a beautiful language to learn !!!
The kajal in her eyes ,
Her eyes sparkled  and were deep like ocean .
I want to drown in  it ...

Those Hypnotic black eyes,
makes  me go crazy,
She was an magician
I never believed in magic
Until I saw her sparkling eyes
I let myself be enchanted 
By her wonderful magic.
Eyes so wide, so deep
 Beauty in her eyes !!

You are the definition of Beauty.
Or shall I say,
Is Beauty compared to you ?
It feels shy and ashamed when I describe you.
Eyes which crinkle 
and twinkle They are my catalyst .
They are a canvas on which I paint
the world.

                   ~ Suhas Ghoke
 Sep 2018 eleanor prince
Tess
People
Are like
Teacups

Some are pretty
Some are plain

Some have a saucer
Some don't

Some carry warmth within them
Some turn cold in a blink

Some are the favorites
That we see everyday

But some are lost in the dark
Without their existence being known


But in the end,
They're just teacups
Who are we without it, verses, who can we become with it...
Hope is not a feeling or emotion but the desire to believe good things will happen. A believer knows that their HOPE is solid; concrete evidence that is grounded in the knowledge of facts that cannot lie. Many people think that hoping for a good day or hoping for a loved one to survive but there is no guarantee it will happen. That's is called "wishful thinking" and it is undependable, also it has no power to bring anything passed it.
In my case, I didn't always have it and at one point... I was absolutely defeated by dismay. My 7th-grade year started off great but towards the end, I had classmates bullying me. They belittled me in numerous ways by taunting me with my mistakes and purposely making my life a living hell. I was threatened to be "ganged'' and ambushed on a daily basis, to the point of administrative leave was forced for my safety and well-being but it didn't stop there... My classmates cyber-bullied me to believe this world was a better place without me. Honestly, I had literally no idea from the start it would end up being this bad. I often cried until I tried to end my very existence on multiple occasions. Because I had no Hope and often couldn't cope with what was happening to me.
Until one day, my mother sat me down, talked to me about her story and how her life was similar to mine. I realized I was entertaining my enemies by allowing them to torment my emotions in dangerous ways by practicing destructive habits and I learned to turn their undermining comments into fuel...
My own mother placed a seed of hope in my mind and it bloomed like a Cherry Blossom Tree. I have hoped for the light and the end of the tunnel but now I have restored my sight to my blinded eyes and the desire to live a full happy life Mentally and spiritually. Hope is a sure anchor of the soul and is far superior to that of my world.
Today I am stronger and happier than ever. I have suffered but learned so much, that with Hope, I will always have this feeling of relief.
I am grateful that I found HOPE. Because if not I probably won't be writing this. My story would have faded in the years to come.
 Sep 2018 eleanor prince
Gemini
The ocean –
consists of a large mass of water.

It’s Salt Water.

Swallow and it slowly eats away at your sanity.

It’s Deadly.

To an open wound – a scrape, a cut – it does miracles.

It Purifies –

it’s Terrifying.

The power to destroy,
the power to cleanse.

A medicine?
A poison?

Who cares…

To heal memories troubling hearts and skin.
To free even the most complicated of minds.

To steal lives in instant, violent ways.
To steal everything you love right from your hands.

It's Cruel.

It's Beautiful.
Was a short story that I started playing with and... well... ended up making it a lottt shorter.

Almost
found a hope that prevails
reaching for me under a starlit tent
Almost
built a boat that sails
across all oceans as they bend
Almost
filled my book with tales
an anthology of moments I didn't attend

Almost
what a terrible word
holding such a stinging truth
Almost
felt like it's all worth the hurt
while wasting years of restless youth
Almost
called out and haven't been unheard
found something I couldn't lose


Almost
thought any path would get me there
where wholesomeness is not just hearsay
Almost
kept a fire in sight that brought me to where
I would find the light of day
Almost
made them proud of me, made them care
made them listen to what I had to say

And now
from where I stand
a lyrical sadness
paper in my hand
I know this is true
                                                            ­             I can almost see you
 Sep 2018 eleanor prince
Samantha
I knew I loved you
When you held my hand
Pretending I was your girlfriend in that bar.
When we drove down the
Hill, windows down
Music up, singing along
High as the moon in that night's sky.
I knew I loved you
When you called me crying about your dog
And didn't know what to do.
When you sang to me
"Don't you worry, don't you worry child" in that club
And you told me it'd get better.
When you made me smile all the times
I was down.
I knew I loved you when you
Though my weirdness was cool
And when you let me be my exposed self
You never judged, it was easy to
Tell you my deepest secrets.
I knew I loved you when we took that selfie
And pretended to kiss.
When it turned real as our
Connection solidified through our lips
I knew I loved you when we pretended
It never happened because we
Didn't want to lose each other.
I knew I loved you all the
Times we fought and drifted away for things
I can't even remember.
When our opinions would clash
And our lives kept changing.
I knew I loved you when I hated you
And all your girls because I knew you could do better.
I knew I loved you when you finally met her
And it pleased my heart
Your gamble was finally over.

I Know I Love You
Because I'm smiling as I immortalize our bond.

I Love You
My Best Friend
Ye men so coward of poor Uganda,
Why dost thou comfortably rest in bed
As though crimes extant all propaganda,
And overlook the rising toll of dead?
Ah, night is nigh, rise now or nevermore,
For deep in dungeons lies thy dear child
Who should have lifted thy hope from the floor
That bliss as merry birds spark in the wild,
As such would bloom again upon thy land
That now lies in a sepulchre of sorrow,
As of a pirate prostrate by the strand
With faded hope to sight a new rainbow.
  O rise up now and fight for thy freedom,
  Before the land sinketh in lasting doom.



©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Kampala, Uganda, 20th.August.2018.

#Shakespearean sonnet
This sonnet hath been written in defiance of atrocious acts by the current president of Uganda, he who hath been in power for more than 32years. This time round when he detained Bobi Wine, a musician yet politician who is now on the verge of death in dungeons unknown after being subjected to atrocious acts that deserve not even an animal because he stood up against his malicious acts, I had to pen this poem to cowards of my country (Uganda) who have failed to rise up for freedom. God bless our dear land.
like stars, her eyes following the path,
time moulded into its caves
the sky with its sapphire-mooned dome,
the rustling trees where the fast
wind swore and shook each crooked branch

here beyond the houses and the well-kept lawns,
the low walls and scrolled iron gates
the sounds of the night a bat’s wing,
the sagging wind gusting, smoke
peppering the sky from chimneys in a thin flame

or the jagged ice of a jaded moon
where the horses in the woodland
shook their manes, grey-eyed like
athene and her owl, untired as
a fog-spun sea, relentless and alive,

the trees and their ghosts around her
she held her breath, bare feet weaving
along the sandy track, dress flowing,
her arms covered in bracelets,
her lips, coral-pink, brushed in peppermint,

free to dream at last , eyes swallowing
the dark lines of the trees, hanging the dusk
from her eye lids, singing of the sweetness
of the night and its ragged clouds,
the raw dust of the moon.

her dreams were blue pools, the night
with its midnight leaves, her
heart longed to be free, to wander
through the trees as wild as the
horses with their stone-like manes

and sweeping metal hooves, brushed
with the inks of the sky in the shadowy
woods where everything was still but
not still, where the moonlight carved
its name in the woken tree.
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