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With shiny curls flowing over the two ears,
In a stunning color her lovely image appears,
Her splendor ensnares with every tender rays,
She shines with glamour in incredible ways
Just like a frame, most valued and blessed fine,
Her unerring grandeur shall forever remain divine.
A ravishing shade the cheeks flawlessly displays,
Many splendors by her smiles elegantly arrays.
While a mellowed shade her brow gracefully shows,
The glossy color from the lips fashionably flows
With every beam a glory to the realm spreads
That changes its colors whenever she treads.
Her loveliness is not at all lies in the ****** mole,
but the factual beauty is  reflected  in her soul.
*


By Williamsji Maveli
Email:williamsji@yahoo.com
From the Anthology of lyrics, both in English & Malayalam ( bilingual, translated by the author) and titled as
"Forever, lovingly yours.......", (Pranayapoorm, Ennennum Nintee...) written
by Williams George Maveli. ( Williamsji Maveli )
Email: williamsji@yahoo.com
Web site:www.moonmakers.com
Luce  Jan 2014
jumble
Luce Jan 2014
do you know
i fall asleep
with my hands
touching
together

but I notice the difference
as yours Are tougher
bigger
rougher
but i've never had the pleasure

of falling asleep with
your hands
though ive slept
cocooned
in your scent

do you know
i've never been very good
at confessions

i confess
i could draw
freehand
the shape of your lips
from Memory

(i could show you
      where they curve
       and bend
       and they look like
       the perfect destinatIon
       for my life to end
  killing myself,
        to die upon a kiss
       
        to die upon 
        your kiss
        i'm killing myself
       by even thinking this)

i confess
i could shade
the exact ways
your hair falls
dowN
by your face

(i could explain
    the smelL of your hair
    after a long day at work
    it feels thicker
    as it resists against
my hands
      
     you dO that too
     do you know)

i confess
i could describe
the wonders
in
your eyes
of
your eyes
so accurately
they would be seen
by the blind

(i'd rather not tell you
       how i feel
       when you catch me
staring
       but i just
                       can't
         help myself
i neVer want to miss
       a single blink
a wink
       no time to think)

i confess
words,
the words,
keEp
running
sprinting
dancing
prancing
in my mind
but i cannot find
an acceptable order
to confess them in



love in you i am with



one two three four five six


and, oh father,
there is no need to confess
for We have not sinned

he would not look
upon me
if i was the last to exIst
he merely
glances over to me
now and then

and, oh father,
you know
how i desire
These
tormenting
words
to go

he could barely tell you
the colour of my Hair
i could tell you
the colour of his
when he was five

milky way kid

do You know
me
am i
just a girl
who falls asleep
alone
in the backseat
Of the car

that old red polo
is not so appealing
anymore

and, love,
i confess
or
these words will die
on the lips
yoU leave
unkissed

i am in...

*i cant
four five two one six three
Kiernan Norman  Nov 2012
words #1
Kiernan Norman Nov 2012
swim until you can’t see land

until names etched deep in cardiac tissue blur

and fade, scored over with seasalt and creases of a million maps,

a secret stash of maps. absurd and hoarded and crumpled under carseats and

rolled neat

and boastful in umbrella holders or worse, framed and hung

Maps jotted freehand on napkins stained with tea and mustard and left

to be bused with the crusts and pocketful of change.

swim until you can’t read the maps.

the lines to here from there are arteries

on your fresh, clean heart.
Bows N' Arrows Nov 2015
This silly shrill putting
Clothes on hangers in my
Head
Judging me, myself by
Conceptions I should have long
Since shot dead
Either way the formalities
Leave you wasting time on
Trivialities
And my needs I cannot touch
I cannot grasp what sustains me much
It's like living up to someone's
Voice and the
Echoes linger still
That get mistranslated as the
Noise reverberates from the
Wall's of a well.
Such sounds I hear
And all this hot air
I'm just going to leave them there
To burn the floor down.
Freud has the I.d, the ego and the superego. Some food for thought.
Onoma  Feb 2021
Freehand
Onoma Feb 2021
the art

of

a

point

not

remote

from its

circle.

can draw

a flawless

circle.

freehand.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
Escapist Pt. 1 ( The Plan)

When I feel trapped,
I escape out of the stress when,
I write these words,
I scribe my confessions,
whether fact or fiction,
I blend into these pages,
whether a real act or just a premonition,
enlightenment comes in phases of stages,
I snap the trap and still escape unscathed with no scathing,
I always find a way to get away I am an Escapist who's always escaping.

A combination of a Genie in a bikini and a suited up Houdini,
a widely believed Whodunit mystery conspiracy theory,
I take it all in with a grain of salt nothing’s too serious no not at all,
lifes’ a fckn joke for real no for real seriously,

that’s the truth,
no rules no ruler,
just two tools to use,
my mind and my computer,

here there are no rules,
as we escape into these pages,
no rules no cages,
no minimum wages when maximum faded….

Feeling the dreams crashing into me,
I’m jaded,
no jade though ‘cause I’m not Chinese,
but yes I made it,

to these pages where these lines be,
these lines these,
lines in here are outrageous,
no slave labor,
no life savers or light sabers,
just these thoughts on these pages,
and I guess that’s the feeling,
I find between these lines,
written in freehand,
in a free land from the free mind of a free man,
though no one is free man,
not even me man,
because no ground is free land,
it all comes at a cost,
no boss,
no contract I’m freelance,

an emotional journalist,
reporting live from the front lines,
still alive even in these dying trying times,
though I don’t really know why,
might take my life after the lime,
light I gave you my all for right and wrong right?

Still alive,
no suicide,
though Lord knows I’ve tried and tried,

because if at first you don’t succeed,
try again pop the pills then wait and see,
still after all this time I’m still alive and kicking,
which means God must have a plan for me…

But that plan is top secret,
so secret I don’t even know it,
and we fear what we don’t know so I fear it,
but like most of us when scared we don’t really show it,

no fear with my dearest,
our Soul is one with the Spirit I’m serious and delirious,

no Eddie Murphy no tricks up my sleeve,
go ahead and search me you’ll find that all that’s on me,
is all that you need which is love and no mercy,
so don’t believe everything you read between the lines or see,

see?

I found that I’m lost,
after I lost what I found,
so I guess this is the end,
or maybe it’s the other way around,
key the deja vu key the deja vu,
I’ll see you at the sacred burial grounds,
it’ll be a party a carnival,
as the Merry-Go-Round makes merry go rounds,

and Mary and Jehova hunt the Red October in the Puget Sound.

No sounds,

it’s like a silent movie,
no Charlie Chaplin just a sorry Chaplain,
man fck all these pathetic *******,
they all seem outdated strung out and stagnate,
sedated ***** all soft and mushy,
most guys tell lies then turn those lies into movies,
and I watch them all in silence still preaching stop the violence,
and they’re still screamin’ sue me!

See I see that everything’s not so black and white,
so I don't take a stand I stay silent sit down and write,
when I feel trapped I escape out the stress when I write these words,
scribing my confessions whether fact or fiction praying these prayers will be heard.

– ∆  Aaron LA Lux ∆ –

author of The Poetry Trilogy
author of The H Trilogy
I've got a plan...
Mark Lecuona Nov 2016
I have never been able to straight line a draw
Nor my name,
a letter missing always when I sign
Nothing so grand that would a painting make a camera sad
Beyond these perfections,
I fell short yet to speak was still mine
I have nothing to stare at for so long except the rain
So different, yet the same
Today I watched it’s fabric,
like wind across fields of wheat
or corduroy pants
But I do not have any to wear;
still,
I am dry as the balcony only feels the water like light
The rain does not care what I think
Nor of my sight
And though I am moved forward in my chair
Nature is not one to meet
Not anyone or anything
No language
Or memory
That is for me only
Like something I said to you long ago
Something that was true
I wonder if you remember
Or if only it was like the rain upon you
Not a place to live
A smile
Or a frown
A face to the sky
Or to run because your dress was new
But you know
As do I
The park will be there for you in the spring
There is nothing vain about rain upon your heart
Like the words I once spoke
Uneven as they were
Without every letter I wished upon you
A crooked line
An unrecognized signature
My life
Not perfect
Instead, discovering what an accident blessed;
still,
I will remember what love broke
Will you remember what love spoke?
LONDIN Oct 2013
Today Leonardo drew a perfect circle freehand,
it was pretty rad.
kellie scranton Aug 2017
You wound me up like a spiral staircase
Predictable like my weekdays
Fluent in enticing my reactions
I forgave you of toxic infractions
You could draw my body freehand
I sunk into you like quicksand
lila  Apr 2021
i'm not fine
lila Apr 2021
I wish people could understand
That sometimes things don't go as planned
And that I'll always try to hide
The things I feel deep down inside

I wish people could understand
That's sometimes being true is hard
That sticking to the rules is bland
So let this all become freehand

I wish they know
That it's possible to
Like boys and girls
And still be you

To be bi in a world
Where straight is the norm
To be wild and untamed
When people conform

That it's possible to
Be 'smart' and suicidal
That comfort doesn't make one
Want to keep their vitals

That just because I smile
Doesn't mean it's all fine
That I can hate my life
And still act in line

So please understand
Don't judge, don't sigh
I want you to know
That I really try
To be normal and stuff
To not scream and cry
To act like I'm still
A really good child

But before you judge
Keep this in mind
I'll keep killing myself
Until everyone thinks I'm fine
Helen Feb 2014
I used to have a book, books,
that I scribbled in furiously
at work, at traffic lights
in the morning and at night
after I went to bed, I'd get up again
and bled upon a page
I'd be halfway through a shower
and I'd rush through top and toe
just to drip upon the page
so the feelings would not go away

now

I write mine freehand, in the dark
after my world has gone to sleep
I take another drink
and become part of all of me
I used to think carefully
about each syllable,
each carefully constructed line
but there is no time, no time left
for me to care what falls from my brain

I read everyday, every word said
I collect emotions of others wounds
and store them as prizes in my head
I love everyone you do, or, did
and I hate them for how they treated you
or, I did, until you forgave them
or, killed them in memory or,
flogged yourself stupid for their mistakes
I get it, you write what I've lived

I draw on memories that aren't mine
Emotions I've never allowed to cut deep
Promises that were left unspoken
and crossroads where we would never meet

Hence the darkness needed to write
because I'm afraid of the shadows
that seem to hide in the light
In the dark I can pretend to be alone
Just my drink, and my dog
which occasionally likes to sit on me
and I can pretend I mean something
to just anyone, kissing emotional lips
with a passion of memories
I don't seem to own

— The End —