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 Feb 2017 Scott T
Beaux
RSVP to no occasion
Your presence never apart of the situation

Leaving a boat in the ocean
Leaving the only piece of you that makes you whole again

Relying on a feeling from a false kinda love
Lending out your advice no one

No love for the struggle, the pain, and the shame
Never even trying to remember my name

You're so vain

You're so sick

And I'm started to hate the grey

Because it's unfortunate to say
But I turned out the *same way
 Feb 2017 Scott T
Nithin purple
1
O' sprite full Maia, come attire our lands with your boundless prize-
Of joyful swelling by the nature's pleasing bloom,and green surprise,
To sprout a floral bedding,round the yards  and shades for worthy dales;
And birds will spin their adorned bowers over the dewy boughs and vales.

2
Hail! to you goddess, deck the forest’s lingering beauty, thus come:
Let streams to flow across the thick and- bushy meadows over your prime,
For hawthorn white and lilies to bud, and converse fragrance in air,
To wind down our minds with breezes- blow,groovy lifts cool us lighter.

3
Mid mate of months, come and show your
primeval splendor and glee,
While south is praising vintager’s autumn,
North's propitious spring does fly,
And make the country lush with garden- fruits,the sweetest scents they spray,
To fill each rose with flavors long,
for all the ardent grooms they pray!
Come Glitter, glitter ***** rays-,
and sun is warm in moderate mood;
Behold! the coming of her-,
bees gathered among the newly buds

Nithin Purple from 'Halcyon Wings.'

REFERENCE:

Maia— Greek goddess of May month
Hawthorn—A spring-flowering shrub or  small tree of the genus Crataegus.
Vintager—A person who harvests grapes for making wine.
***** rays—Attraction of sunlight towards flowers, showing a dependency.
*Sprite—Middle English: alteration of sprit, a contraction of spirit.
Dedicated one to goddess of may month ‘Maia’ to cuddle the nature, with lush and ripeness to the fruits, month with joy and surprise, the sprouting time and for vintages they welcome her as a fortune which cleaves the fertile paths, the fecund grounds, hills and dales you can see here, attracting me too, And array of forests, and its hill sides. Written with an imaginary wing, ‘May’ goddess can the best surprise towards this and enamored many are lives here. This poem also gives a brief idea of two climates at different regions, South and North.
 Feb 2017 Scott T
River
Dear girl, dear boy
Dear little child with so much hurt and abuse and harm
Your body has marks and scars and your mind holds the secrets of the hatred you felt and saw that no one who lives a sheltered life could begin to understand
Dear child, living deep within your mind's recesses, living within the inner most part of your being
You have so much God in you,
Even more God than the richest person in the world, or the most fashionable or the most intelligent
I understand you struggle with your self worth
But I'm here to try to help you understand
That there is someone bigger than your problems
Someone bigger than your trauma
Someone you can bring your worn, pummeled body to who will heal you
Heal your soul
Someone who will bring you Justice
And pay retribution to your wrongdoers
Jesus is his name
And he will take care of the child others had battered
The child who lives inside of you.
Dedicated to all the hurting people out there that are seeking relief from childhood wounds.
 Feb 2017 Scott T
Ben
Lurching over
A river that flows
So slowly that it
Becomes the sky's
Mirror

A bridge is stretched
Easily over it
Staring at itself
In its entirety
It's meticulously
Constructed arches
Become hollow mouths
In the rivers silvery
Surface

I want to visit
The river one day
As opposed to
Just passing over it
So I can watch
The belly of the day
Skip across the river
Like so many flat stones
 Feb 2017 Scott T
galaxy of myths
Think of a wild forest filled with every
Known flower. Sometimes you'd miss it,
But it's there. Cleverly
Hidden among loud ones. It'll hit
You like a comforting wave,
Making you feel happy,
Serene. So very safe.
Maybe it's sappy
But that's how I think
Of her. She's the softest flower.
Always on the brink
Of heaven. The magnetic power
Of lulling you with love, kindness.
She's always there, basking in her own beauty

-m.b
Happy birthday to my sweetheart Lauren!!! Hope you'll like this piece. You're my favourite flower :)
Oh my dear Lord
Your beautiful creation of the dandelions...
Oh my great God
Your beautiful creation of my heart...
Oh the beautiful dandelions
The owners of the blue sky
Ask God whether I can imagine
your dress carrying Jasmines !!!
I haven't told the sky how much I love you
but I've told God...


ای خدای من
...قاصدک ها را زیبا آفریدی
ای خدای بزرگ
...قلب من را زیبا آفریدی
ای قاصدک های زیبا
که آسمانی آبی دارید
به خدا بگویید
اشکالی ندارد
اگر فکر کنم
!!! پیراهن شما گل یاسمن دارد
من به آسمان نگفته بودم
شما را دوست دارم
...به خدا گفته بودم
i wrote this poem for my favorite poet ''Keikavoos Yakideh'',,,,,, i am very sad
Who am I
Who am I to think that it all will be ok.
When my heart is shattered for the first time
A million pieces on the floor
While I stand up confident and smiling
I'm shuttering and in excruciating pain inside

Who am I
To seem put together
To put on that plastic smile
That makes money and wins hearts
The smile that wins; the smile that takes

Who am I
To crush hearts
But when I myself am crushed
Be surprised at the anguish

Who am I
To just want to touch you
To just want to hold you and feel your warmth
To feel you there in my sleep
To once in my life not feel alone
You can run, you can go
Just a moment more with you would be worth a million heartaches and a million bruises
I'm broken inside, but I'd do it again just to kiss that beautiful face and feel ok for a moment more.


And so I drown into myself. My hard controlling self. But I have to breathe eventually. And I come up--gasping for air-- and pooling my tears around me; I remember how it feels to be broken. Then I pull myself down to drown once more. Covered in my plastic suffocation. I am safe. I will be safe. Blissful suffocation
 Feb 2017 Scott T
Francie Lynch
We're deep to our waists
In February;
Trees look like a geriatric pool-fitness class,
And the grass,
Sparse as the bobbing skulls.

      I heard a lone Canada goose overhead,
     The V has left the others for dead;
     And a gray pall covers all
     With winter's threadbare spread.

The alarm is set,
The time is right,
The season's snug,
But not sleeping yet.

     Soon, the beast will close its eyes,
     And Spring will march in,
     Fresh and vigorous,
     Like a new recruit,
     Green and anxious.

She'll fire-up roots, flowers and leafs.
In the pool they'll sway in the breeze,
Branches touching in Spring's reprieve.
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