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 Sep 2017 Poetry First
wordvango
something she does
so special
Besides wake me with a kiss
or love me ***** sexually
cook a great breakfast
and love unconditionally
is leave her scent
on my pillow
the sheets
I want to dive my head into
and were she to leave
me
I would be in bed
smelling the pillow
hiding under the scented
sheets
 Sep 2017 Poetry First
Born
Be prepared for anything

For loss of lives with no reason
an imposed treason
on your very existence

You'll feel like you are
the blackest or the whitest man on earth
racism shoved down your throat
and the hate keeps coming

Peoples morals will be axed
principles thrown out the window
we'll do anything
to get everything

Tyranny will have allies
Your complains will be put
"under advisement"
for you matter not

then you'll truly know
order, brotherhood and love
was nothing but a speech
and speeches are for campaigning

So I say
you quickly and quietly
Open that can of coke
and drown your emotions on a failing heart
like you've been taught

Or open your eyes
to the deep slumber of disillusionment
you've been subjected to.

And then you'll know
for the sake of peace
you gave up your freedom
Dew gravitates from the wild blue yonder
To kiss her lover, grass—but when sun’s rays
Come, dew indignantly to skies doth soar,
But to her lover doth return always.
And the waves madly rush in ecstasy
To their lover, shores—but when gravity
Calls, waves indignantly ebb to the sea,
But dost return in perpetuity—
Then, a soul of mine so entwined with thine,
To wing to rose veiled banks of paradise;
But along the way thine decamped from mine,
On yonder beyond where the sun doth rise.

"But, if sea waves and dew of skies above
To their lovers return, why not thee, love?"


©**Kikodinho Edward Alexandros. Jumeirah, Dubai. 03rd.09.2017
#Decasyllabic.
#Attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet.
 Sep 2017 Poetry First
Seema
Words spill out my mind
As I write my writes
There is always a find
To ink in with highlights

Subjective, scenarios, facts
Imaginary, dreams, best
I am so consumed, infact
I hardly take time to rest

I feel at ease when I write
Words speak up from every line
Dull days light up, too bright
Rest of the days go so fine

I scribble on paper but
It's hard to read
So I type in my notepad
And post it, in the feed

Writing is part of my relaxation
A therapy that takes away my tension
It's a wonderful feel of sensation
Like my heart is beating in it's mansion...


©sim
the surface
                 of the paper lie
           the tendrils of oceans
     the mating
of smooth stones
     sea monsters congregate
            darkness holds on like
                               a limpet
          all we can do
                 is carry a torch
                  
        *and hold our breath.
Stream of consciousness...
I am your bird of prey

Caught between 2 posts
And a glistening fence.

Neck broken,
beak to the ground,
Half way trapped inside
your field of green.

I am your bird of prey,

Wings on a wire,
Still soft and light,
with feathers gleaming
where promise of flight,
newly broken, fell to earth.

'Twas passion that lured me to your
nest, where the cloud kissed Sun
with time
turned ashen my listless frame.

A testament to nature's seduction,
there was no escaping
your embrace
As the warmth
slowly left
my still
beating
heart.
Inspired by a beautiful Robin I found yesterday, stuck in a fence I had put up around a field of garlic.. it must have fluttered to death, trying to escape.
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