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 Apr 2015 epictails
A Watoot
Diamond
 Apr 2015 epictails
A Watoot
She once said,
"I'm made of steel."
"I never get tired."
"I never cry."

But she did.
She got hurt, bent, and burned.

She stood up
Once again
This time, with a smile.

Because to tell you the truth
I'm made of diamond.
**Unbendable
Unbreakable.
 Apr 2015 epictails
A Watoot
At night, she trembled in pleasure
He's deeper into the woods
Without any word
Spring gushed

3months after
Her belly grew
The creature inside her
was escaped by an entity

No one knew who
No one knew what
Her tummy flattened

He went deep into the woods
Again to give life
Spring gushes

3months after
Her belly grew
The creature inside her
was escaped by an entity

Again

He never got tired going into the woods
To give life again and again
A life he eats
To gain power.
I was inspired by a story I had read back then.  They made baby and a "miscarriage" occurs.  Neighbors believed that it was some type of ghoul.  The couple never got tired of trying for baby only to get another miscarriage.  Turns out the husband eats the fetus.
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
"But why ask questions
without definite answers?"

Philosophy is a vortex of the unknown;
of confusion that hazes every screen
as the night returns to dawn
--only there is no clear transition
and the night becomes the morn.

But
it changes every decision;
your perception of life through those
tinted, often cracked sunglasses
and pastes a smile on your face;

This is power
of the unknown.
A short snippet on why I love philosophy.
 Apr 2015 epictails
Mr X
Philosophy
 Apr 2015 epictails
Mr X
A poet's philosophy
Is what makes him immune
To the widespread disease
Of suffering and pain.

A man's philosophy
Is what makes him detach
From all attachments
To think only of gain.

A woman's philosophy
Is what makes her accept
And live with all
The ***** truths of men.

A child's philosophy
Is what makes it realise
That there's so much left to realise
Over and over again.
 Apr 2015 epictails
Pax
I’m tired of carrying you at my back.
Keeping you well fed
to the point I starved myself.

Did you often wonder what I feel?  
Have you ever thought of what I really want?
Have you ever seen me without my deep façade?

The difficulty I'm facing is well kept.
Time after time it wears me down.
To the point of exhaustion.
When can I stop and have a little break?
My mind is full and my heart is heavy.

These questions will remain lost in the sea of my thoughts.




© 2013 Pax

a very heavy old fragment, still hung around, carrying, starving, well someday in someway I'll be able to let you go....
 Apr 2015 epictails
Sara Teasdale
Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.

We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
We shall be happy, for the dead are free.
 Apr 2015 epictails
A Watoot
Broken
 Apr 2015 epictails
A Watoot
A howl of the wolf in this eerie night
Reminds me that I'm not alone in my wood cabin;
Yet I lay myself on the cold wooden floor
While salty liquids drop from my eye.

It roll down to my lips and I taste the bitterness.
I'm in my nightgown waiting for my heart to fix itself;
Yet it waits for you to come as the moon wans over again.
****.
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