Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2012 Mukul
Rangzeb Hussain
NOTE*  -  *The largest animal in Great Britain, a red stag named Emperor who stood over 9ft tall, was last night shot dead by a trophy hunter. The antlers of the majestic deer are highly prized, and after pictures of the stag appeared in the national press last week, the animal was tracked and killed in Exmoor, Devon.



These mist covered mountains of the highlands,
‘twas here that I once freely wandered upon nature’s pasture grounds,
Now I lie shrouded in the mournful fog of the lowlands,
‘twas here that I was met by a pack of bone breaking hounds.

The fresh dew upon the harvest of autumn’s final flowering,
‘twas here that I chewed the grass of sweet nature’s offering,
Now I grow cold upon the ground where I was stalked by dark doom,
‘twas here that I left life’s rocky way under a hunter’s moon.

The air of the early morn moor with the sky above my dome,
‘twas here that I ran and with joy loved and royally roamed,
Now my legs will nevermore click or clack over my domain fenced with tree gates,
‘twas here that I wooed and won my shy majestic mate.

She, my queen of the green woodlands, she was my wife and my empire,
‘twas here that we romanced in the fading summer’s fire,
Our charming child, my princess of these grassy hills now cloaked in shade,
‘twas here that she saw her father the monarch in death finally fade.

In the chorus of the dancing dawn awakening upon the horizon’s golden rhyme,
‘twas here that I sang the tune that will drum till the end of nature’s time,
They will come with stakes and wood and cross and bow me to the beams,
‘twas here where they hacked and tore off my enchanted crown of weeping dreams.

The scent of the freshly mown grass mingles with the green pine,
‘twas here that I drank the perfume and nectar of the divine,
My eyes glaze, my breathing falters, my clay chills, my soul no more sings,
‘twas here that I finally returned to the hands of my Beloved, the eternal King.

"...I shall now graze upon the sacred acres of my Creator,
I shall frolic and run free in the tender fields of endless splendour..."




©Rangzeb Hussain
 Apr 2012 Mukul
Matt KH
Do you remember when we were just boys with mischief in our eyes?
We were just kids we didn't know any better-
Games we used to play, knock door run, tracking, football on the green
Twenty seven-a-side, next goal wins.

Do you remember we used to kick seven bells out of each other
Until our brothers pulled us apart?
But if someone else started
You were always by my side
And i was always by yours

Do you remember when i fell out of a tree
And you ran like lightning to get my mum?
Or when you fell off your bike
And stayed with you until help came

We were kids then though
Things have changed
We've grown up and grown apart
You became a soldier and me,
Well thats still to be determined

I know you're out there son, out on the front line,
Keep yourself safe and one day
We'll kick back and talk about old times
Just do me one favour
Come back alive
 Mar 2012 Mukul
JK Cabresos
Why moon is more poetic
than the sun?
When beneath in it are lovers,
walking hand in hand;

Why rain is more poetic
than a day?

I don't care —
for she'll ever be loved by me,
than myself.

Why is it so hard to read
between the lines?
Why choosing once loving arms,
saddens someone's night?

When expressing loneliness
is so much to distinguish,

I don't care —
for she'll ever be loved by me,
than myself.

Why tears are more poetic
than a thousand smiles?
When crying,

crying is the only
thing to be done,
when words left unspoken:

Why wounds heal,
but scars still remain?

I don't care —
for she'll ever be loved by me.
than myself.

Questions seeking for answers.
Answers which are lost.

And even if I can' t have it now,
I know who is my choice.

I don't want again to wander alone
in the forest,
For there's nothing more poetic
aside from loving her
than loving myself.
© 2011
 Mar 2012 Mukul
Inkyu Kim
There's a girl I know,
She's a rose.

Beautiful,
Bright,
Attractive,
Original,
but Deadly.

It is best not to mess with this flower.
You will only be given pain and cuts.

Watch and appreciate,
but will you risk your pride?

Try and talk to this girl,
she will let you,
Try and court this girl,
she will **** you,

I warn you all,
She's a Rose,

God gave her Knives,
she will use them if you get too close,

Like a Rose

You cannot grab on,
without blood spill.

She is Beautiful,
Bright,
Attractive,
and Original,

But will anyone take the risk?
And feel the bloodshed?
To feel great pain?
For the great reward of the Rose?

— The End —