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Poems

Diane Jan 2015
Nonchalant greetings and vigilant stares,
An alluring excitement with a striking flare.
Yet all of these things seep with fear,
All hidden under a pirate sneer.

To know of something of what's up there.
To feel the joy of what hell can fear.
Wondering if earth has a chance to be great,
One more chance with a little less hate.

May I ask an angel to calm me from my nerves?
To fly me away from sorrow and pain.
Though lovely people are everywhere in this world.
I need an angel to let my love be regained.

Blue eyes with a bow and arrow,
A halo full of light and yellow.
Wings with speed and full of skill,
A character full of free will.


We'd sing and dance to no rhythm and beat.
Play with harps and sandals on our feet.
Holds me close and makes me guffaw,
Being the single foolish and fair thing I ever saw.


May I ask an angel to come for me now?
To be my salvation in this world of mine now.
To adore, to love, to cherish and to hold.
**To balter to music and let our story be told.
Anne  Jul 2017
Poem #4
Anne Jul 2017
He was my most delicate flower  

My favorite peony

Who seemed resilient of harsh summer showers

He held my aurora

He was my king, my aliferous deity


A dulcet fragrance is mixed with spring’s breeze

His kalon petals would balter  

I whisper “I dream of living near the sea”

He'd grin

Knowing I’ll never turn out as I aspire to be


With more love than the last

Everyday I would greet him  

Nurture him, tell him wild stories of my strange past


I thought too highly of him

I took my sharpest scissors

I lacerated his stem carefully

I killed him and pressed him  

In an effort

To preserve my love of him

For eternity
Muskan Kapoor Apr 2018
Word of the day - Balter
Meaning - to dance artlessly,

Her hand went high
and his feet went high too.
Wearing a blue skirt
with white top
and white sandals,
she soar high in the sky.
In the black pants
with a black jacket
and slightly less black shoes,
he flies like a bird in the sky.
Both of them,
dancing mindlessly
to the tunes of nature.
The birds
The honking cars
The chitter chatter of people
The sound of wind
becomes the music
to their steps.
They do not coordinate,
but they dance anyways,
one hand touching each others’ face
and the other one reaching for their back.
Without any care
without any music,
leaving their worries behind
they lose themselves
in the ecstasy that is dancing.