I'll have to grab you
And tell
You are a gift
The droplet from heaven
To slake my thirst

You are the crown
On my head
So prestigious
than my innocence

You can only be
The one
For me

905

Between My Country—and the Others—
There is a Sea—
But Flowers—negotiate between us—
As Ministry.

I am an artist
painting ones eyes with colorful jargon.
Red for passion that strikes a memory.
Green for the abundance of words that allows reader to think.
Blue for open sky that leaves room to drift in visions.
Purple my favorite to tweak the imagination
with peaceful vibrations.
Orange for the juice that flows inside a poem.
giving place to roam.
Pink like cotton candy that tickles the taste buds
for expansion of heart.
Black for words that tempt one to look within
and face the dark for cleansing.

Playground of colors flow for a writer artist to color with
as the reader sits to enjoy, ponder, and celebrate in their own space.

StarBG © 2017

this poem has no title
for it to lean on
so there is no telling
the direction it goes

no title to hinder
or hold it back
all of its meaning
is in all that it says

this poem has no title
to hold it in place
it can only rely
on the rhymes that it makes

whether they're good
or whether they're bad
this poem has no title
to hold its hand

this poem has no title
to weigh it down
which forces a read
to find what it's about

and what it's about
you may not find
until you have reached
the very last line

The crypt is one thing I see,
A mirror that reflects me.
One that lives is one who hates.
One that died is one love waits.

i come with baggage
more than i can hold, i pray
that you are stronger

- p. winter