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A morning in my jammies
Drinking a cup of tea
The tea was Strawberry Ginger
And it was made just for me.
I added a teaspoon of sugar
So it would be a little sweet
On this Sunday morning
It was a relaxing treat.
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Traveler
I touched her sadness, I felt to cry
A mere spark of empathy remains
If only tears would fill these dim eyes
Yet short is my emotional pain

I dreamt a dream that broke my heart
And cried like the pouring rain
But when I awoke my pillow was dry
In darkness my sorrow remains...
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Ominous
I’ll make you feel the heat of my blood,
but only when I feel yours
in my tongue.
Words can convey so much more than most know.
A poet can make someone smile, laugh, or cry, and weep
All in the same collection of syllables forming words

A poet can push a person's mind until the heart bursts with happiness, breaks from deep sadness, and dies down right frightened.  All from words formed into sentences

Poets can create a scene of great disdain or nothing but frivolous faire in one sentence turning it to deep concentration hunting for resolution from sentences creating stanzas.

Poets paint a picture that can't be seen by a passerby or displayed in a window case.   It can be placed in plain site something of ******* nature yet unless looked into deeply will never be seen.  As stanzas form a poem that paints that picture

Poets sometimes can only paint basic emotion with words yet some can pull raw lustful emotion from deep in the soul.  Syllables to words bring excitement and desire.  Excitement, need, and release like two bodies locked together in sweaty heated embraces

Poets bringing syllables to words to sentences can capture ones longing carrying along to paragraphs that feel, hear, taste, smell, and see the burning need that the stanzas envoke the basics of carnal lust to break free like a caged lion whose food lay just outside the cage

Poets bring to close the paragraphs that wrap it all together Can you feel the sunlight against naked flesh so warm reflecting off beads of perspiration?  Can you taste the deliciousness of her desire upon ruby lips?  Or from the moisture that coats his fingers as they glide easily through silken petals?  

Poets continue painting with words, stanzas and paragraphs moving to hearing.  Can you hear the cries and pleas begging as desire builds to uncontrollable heights? Feeling. Hearing. Tasting. What is left the poet thinks. Ahhhhh to see and to smell

Poets syllables to words, stanzas, to paragraphs moving towards the pinnacle of rapture their every desire for the reader to see. Hius tongue lavishes the sweet flesh, tasting the musky desire as hands caress and pull upon tender buds of pleasure, the pants, moans, mews, cries, grunts, screams, mix together to form to a crescendoing of music

Continuing as pools of deep blue suffocate emeralds that look back. A growl followed by a almost hedonistic finale as the beings are rocked to their core. The syllables, words, stanzas, paragraphs almost to the picture seeing as the golden dagger of despair is plunged into the innocent heart.  Mixture of musky sweetness glistening upon flesh as red rivers flow to meet and mingle, swirling against the pale white.  The punget rust mixed with essence of bliss finishes the painting.

Poet started with syllables to words on to stanzas then paragraphs drawing from happiness, love to desire, need, release, slammed into the abyss of pain, despair and a private hell only each person viewing the poet's work can explain to themselves and perhaps share with another.

Bashfulness, Happiness, eagerness, apprehension, desire, need, fire, pleasure, release, pain, excruciating pain, lonely, despair, abysmal sadness, depression

The picture painted yet not with colors on canvas but with words on paper.  The mind fills in the forms, colors, and lives the sentence of taste, touch, sight, noise, and of course the smell.  If the poet is truly good one might find they actually do get a whiff of what is writen caressing their nasal pathways.

Written by Niyahlove.  :-)  All rights reserved please be respectful November 2, 2014
Depression is being so tired every minute of every day
that finding the energy to get out of bed is taxing.
Depression is not wanting to be around people you know you love
because the thought of explaining how you are really doing is heartbreaking.
Depression is drowning in an ocean of your thoughts
while everyone around you scolds you because you should ‘know how to swim.’
Depression is being so confused as to why you feel the way you do
because everyone declares that happiness is a choice you have to choose to make.
Depression is avoiding even looking in the mirror
because you’ve surpassed the point of self-hate.
Depression is being stranded on an island and having the tools to signal for help
but not being able to read the language of the instructions on the label.
Depression is being surrounded by people who love you
but feeling completely alone and unloved.
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
bones
If I can unwind
the strings of your heart
and pull them until
your heart pulls apart
and looks like a nest
blown down from a tree
then I will say yes
if you still want to be.  x
Thank you K
:o)
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Joe Cole
He who plays his own trumpet the loudest
Usually can't play more than three notes
Now who does this apply to?
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Joe Cole
Early this morning drove my wife into work
Nothing unusual about that
What was unusual though was the clarity of the light
Was a beautiful sunlit morning and I was heading east
Straight into the rising sun
Then I noticed the leaves, reds, golds
In that sunlight they seemed almost translucent as the sun
Shone from behind
Every leaf edged with a misty white halo
I know, just a trick of the early morning light
But in all my 69 years I don't ever remember seeing such a sight
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Joe Cole
When I was a kid Christmas started on about 20th December
It was a time of surprise, of belief
The anticipating of what was to come
Sadly now Christmas starts in early October
Shops filled with baubles
Second rate American films about Christmas
Where has the Christmas we knew gone?
 Nov 2014 Sharina Saad
Joe Cole
I've put a lot of it together over the years
Tables, cupboards, display cabinets
Not been a problem
IKEA specials
Get them home and a few hours later
A work of art
Until this last week
I work part time as the handyman in a large office complex
Got a call "can you come in for a few hours"
Not a problem!!!!
Can you assemble those desks
Those cupboards
Those six foot storage units
Easy, done this so many times before
Opened the boxes
All the instructions were in French
Trying to follow line drawings
Cam locks, cam spindles, nuts, bolts, screws
Honor was on the line
Failure not an option
11 million pieces later and all was complete
And 755 pounds going into my bank account
It wasn't 11 million pieces but it sure felt like it
Never did figure out where all the left over screws etc should have gone
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