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The old man mumbles in a dying voice
had my sons been alive.

A tear wells in the daughter's eyes.

She pours a spoon of water in his mouth
and wipes his lips and her eyes.

Having lit the pyre of his three sons
he was willing to barter his daughter's life
if that made God grant him another son
and here is the daughter by his bedside
feeding, cleaning and even shaving him
her only prayer to God being to save his life
bartering her entire means.

Outside the thunder cracks the sky
and she spreads a tarpaulin over the bed.

my son laments the father.

Inside her is no cover for rain.
( Sonnet )*

Under the primrose stars, the lovers
Lie abed, on green, threadbare croft
Of sleeping daisy, clover and moss,
Trails with hushed air, an embroidery
So fine as to stitch blushing heart fall
And wrap the waters full of quietude
In graces, winding, soft, granulating
Time, wings flutter and hum, winsome
Sparks, fire white, flying as little suns
Burst confetti, in sweet encampment,
Of grass and sapling wood, innocents,
Charmed are wholly twining, in moon
Rise a lantern to the winking heavens,
Out of their skins they are climbing.
Re: a poem of mine, finally being chosen as 'The Daily Poem' ( it only took over five years )

First, I'd like to thank all the fine writers and readers on HP for your lovely comments and support.

Secondly,
As an earnest and hopeful poet, who has been here, posting poems nearly since the beginning of 'Hello Poetry'
I'd like to thank the HP - daily poet - algorithm for finally choosing one of the hundreds of poems I've listed here.
Perhaps the ghost in the machine has a heart after all?
.
The first hummingbird,
The usual melee forestalled.
Long sips of nectar.
Others will come frequently,
Overcrowding the feeder.
As the sun moves to the western horizon
Colors are skilfully blended in a palette
In an instant the sky becomes an exquisite canvas of art
Making even Van Gogh burn in jealousy

With the last glimmer of sunset
When the shadows chase the light,
The aerial folks fly back to their nests
Like black and white specks dotting the sky

With a dark drape stretched across the Earth’s face
The arrival of the night is a spectacular sight
Cicadas and crickets welcome her with their ceremonious band
And street lamps blink their eyes to catch a better view

While truant clouds still wander around aimless
The cerulean sky signals them to hurry
Stars slowly appear in the night sky
Like sequins stitched on to a blue brocade

The crescent moon smiles down
The empress of the night, proud and regal
She and her retinue keep guard over the slumbering Earth
The unpaid sentries of the night!

A gentle breeze makes a palanquin ride
Wafting in the scent of opening buds
The beauty of the night sends me to raptures
My heart exploding like foaming wine in a bottle

Yet I cannot but keep wondering
How many dark secrets
The night holds
Within her tenebrous folds!
What a pleasant surprise, this poem is made the daily. Thanks to everyone for making it possible through your likes and kind comments. These days I can't see the daily and I don't know where to look for it. The site is sometimes quite tricky.....Thanks a lot once again !
 May 2017 Laura Slaathaug
skyler
it drains you of everything you have
when you lose someone you love
you forget how to function
and it takes ages to relearn how to live

you will spend so many nights
clutching your knees screaming into tear soaked pillows
racking your brain for some reason as to why
you just weren't good enough
that when you finally have a night
where you just lay down and sleep
you will wake up in confusion
feeling uncomfortable without streams of sorrow
but even then the nights are still restless
because they lace your dreams like drugs slipped into unwatched drinks
more than ever

you will spend so many days
walking to destinations with no purpose
following a meaningless schedule
but you won't remember a minute of it
because your brain is constantly hazy
like the loss of them is a thick fog settling on the world around you

you will fight so many times
not to breakdown when you hear their name
constantly taming tears biting at the back of your eyes
taking deep breaths to loosen your tightened throat
you will fall to your knees on the bathroom floor
staring into the porcelain bowl in front of you
as your vision swirls with the water
and you sit in a pain you could never have imagined

you will be heartbroken for too long
with a piece of you gone
knowing there is nothing you could do
to fix it

s.s
You and your last love had a falling out.

Cue the music; cue the reprise of your
affection after endless scenes of off-key
orchestra, after months of wondering if I
had imagined the intimacy of those
moments.

A milky night, fog like cream with sugary
stars, and the smell the wind carries, earthy
and rough, setting the whole feeling askew.
You don't love me. I know that. You're just
lonely.

You like the closeness, like to trace the lines
of my face, the angle of my jaw, like children
connect the dots on paper, thick lead bared
down too hard, next to their coloring books
and crosswords, an activity they abandon soon
enough. You know how children can be: fickle.

I can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this
with you, but I will. And you know. You know
I'll take anything I can get. I'll be the doormat
out front if I have to. I'll be the rooftop, on the
off chance you feel like looking at the stars again.

Come sit next to me. I want to watch the
minutes move. I want to know what sews the days
together, what makes the seconds tick. It's noble
enough, I suppose. Not everything is shrouded in
intentions, but most things are. You would know.

I should resent you for it, but I don't.
I'm too busy loving you.
My body is my temple,
And my goal is to make it paradise!

By: Nida Mahmoed.
 May 2017 Laura Slaathaug
Jeffrey
I wait for you beneath the stars, in the place that we agreed upon
In a dream I can’t remember, though I’m sure we both were there
And though others ask if anyone is sitting in the empty seat beside me
I tell them that it’s spoken for and see them on their way

I wait for you beneath the stars, in the place near where the wind begins
With fresh cut grass and dandelions and sand down to the shore
And when it’s clear I see your face among the constellations
And when it’s not I see your heart float among the clouds

I wait for you beneath the stars, in the place that we agreed upon
The fire burning just enough to warm two cups of tea
And when you arrive I’ll know you by the words you spoke
when you told me……….well, you already know
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