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She was holding on to a man broken
every gesture made, every word spoken
was a desperate cry from a place so deep
that he can only reach it in his sleep

she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away
keeping her balance as he kneels to pray
sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t
sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present

she implored, she beseeched
she tried action, she tried speech
if you cannot love me, let me know
if you will not love me, let me go

But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life
as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife
as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat
as if she was every single word he ever wrote

and his eye remains to the shore -
someplace clear but far
it seems within reach yet
more distant than a star

more and more it appears an exercise in futility
finally admitting it is beyond her ability
she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master
trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster

the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear
hope only comes in the form of a prayer
with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved
but try as she might, she cannot rise above it

despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored
her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword
would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void?
would her heart remember the previously enjoyed?



~ epilogue:

Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing
she heard a voice that only an angel can bring
somewhere between a sigh and a scream
somewhere within  a half-awakened dream

She watched him float above the ocean waves
his  feathered wings skimming the waters surface
catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms
a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise

From the edge of clouds,  he finally spoke
and his words became a poem
singing sweetly behind smiling eyes
gliding together over the ocean foam
http://skyblueandblack.com/2015/01/12/between-a-sigh-and-a-scream/
I followed a writer
up a prodigious tree
Every leaf I brushed,
his poem.

From the crown
I scanned the pastoral
a poetic landscape in repose,
A resplendent chorus of
Glistening verdant wisdom.

O’ vast vibrato of sibilance
slipping the breaths of
Thalia and Melpomene!
Alight by dusk, I lingered.

Comes the long wind of winter
to undress each tree!
So from my aerie,
through gaunt branches,
I could see…

The low-slung place
where each poem fell
I thought, “here so many,
clothed in so much comedy
and tragedy…
recite their odes
of heaven and hell.”

And down I climbed
and away I walked
Over quiescent leaves
while red and russet
ran from their dendritic veins
Moldering into the palette
of dormant memories.

O’ even now
The sweet scent of decay
Reminds me of Spring
when I will climb again.
From the rot of the roost
to the dust below boots,
by the pen of the winter writer
Spring will come again.
http://www.phosphorimental.com/great-excerpts/i-followed-a-writer-up-a-tree-2/
... it took a deeper winter to bring me back to this poem... I hope you enjoy.
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
ryn
Leaf
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
ryn
•    
i've
   witness-
   ed the others
   fall over several
sets•leaving you alone
shivering on a spindly twig
•the winds of autumn had whis-
pered their threats...•to sweep you
off your perch into the world so big
•the season had almost gone to make
way for another•answering the sum-
mons of winter's call•had anticipated
the coming of your departure•...i had  
sworn to myself to catch you as you'd  
fall•for a brief moment, i had turned  
away•to tend to commitments that  
came with dawn...•i returned to  
stay and wait another day...•  
but the wind had come  
while i was
g
o
n  
e•
    
.
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
Hayleigh
Etch your name into
The delicate walls of my beating heart
Time shall not erase you.
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
RW Dennen
Laziness,

taking 1 step forward

then

10 steps backward
If poems were ***
then,I wouldn't be a ******
i would caress the letters
fix a foreplay with title
i would literally **** the words
to give birth to soulful sentences
if poems were ***
I wouldn't be ******,still.
Its a bit different idea to show my love for poems. If there wasn't poem then where would my feelings disappear,I wonder !
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
s
heartbeat
 Jan 2015 Niveda Nahta
s
i woke up in the middle of the night
with the sound of my heart calling your name in every beat
I love you more and more
than there are stars in the sky
Oodles and even more than that
as each day passes us by.
I adore the things you say
more than there are blades of grass
Oodles and even more than that
said a Yorkshire man to his lass.
You make me smile from ear to ear
with each little funny thing you say
Oodles and even more than that
You turn my world into a bright day.
You warm my heart on a frosty morning
shelter me from the on-coming storm
Oodles and even more than that
you keep me safe, keep me warm.
Who could ask for any better than this
This is called unconditional love
Yes that is what it is
sent from each little star that is above.
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