On the fourth of
Jewel eyes
Red in her blue
Whites
Turquoise diamonds
Exploding in the skies
I'm in love with my country
She makes me feel loved
When I wave my flag
I'll pay the tax
If you stab my back
When I stand for the Anthem
When the fires crack
And the m-80s blast
I kiss her face
Of the fourth of
Jewel's eyes
Such a lovely patriot
Proud of our Nation
American tasty pie
Red in her blue
Whites
I'm in love with my country
When I stare in her lovely
Jewel eyes

We are
poets
no matter what others say.
Race,
language,
or age
does not
come in our way.
We will write
what we feel
and sooner or later,
these wounds
will heal.
We are
poets.

Scratch The Wound
Until It Stops
Bleeding .


@Adarsh .J

.
Through a forest glade
and down a narrow path
there stands a sacred tree
with its heart torn in half.

Bramble clings to its trunk
ivy covers over its bark,
reaching up for the light
fighting against the dark.

Forgotten by the woods,
ignored in a crowded place,
for it yearns for attention,
just a little tender grace.


© Pagan Paul (27/06/19)