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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
I wished to see my beloved
living in my heart.
When she appeared
for the first time, her radiance,
her light dazzled my eyes!

But so clear I can see her eye  
in the corner of it is a tear.
Days, months, years passed by
like it did then till now her eyes
whisper in every single word!

Speaks in the words in my alphabet
and in the words that are her
I am yet to know that makes me wonder!
Krishnapriya Jun 2018
You are so vast
Bigger than the mountains
All the stars, skies and planets
A zillion galaxies and then some more
This entire universe and beyond

Yet, Oh Yet!
sweet beloved mine
how is it?
That You fit completely
into my little heart?

Smile at me sweetly
In every breath
As i chant Your name
Fulfill my life wholly
with minuscule drops
of tender all pervading love
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
I am a woman
not a man but
the imagination
of the man in front!

I am his beloved
his love of life.
My smile is peace
of his eyes.

None like me reign
over his heart.
I am what he desires.

What am I not then?
I am not a man
I am a woman!
stopdoopy Oct 2019
It'll creep into your mind
sits in the back and festers
until you acknowledge it
and it makes you sick
having plagued humanity for centuries

It doesn't matter you're happy
a miserable wretch
or a beloved spouse

The dark has no preference
the shadow consumes you sooner than you think
gently swaddled in the shroud of time
something only man knows and keeps
until the end.
Happy Halloween
toward thee spunky gal,
     whose impregnation and debut appearance
     way to brief a tale for Aesop
cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted),

     out the birth canal aye did bop
analogously compared
     to a mealy mouthed measly crop
a spindly tangle of arms and legs

     radiated (starfish like)
     dangled and would uselessly drop
like a raggedy ann male counterpart
     (raggedy andy - how original)

     with limbs that didst flop
and tis no small wonder, thyself as one
     newborn baby body electric
     easily confused with bony glop,

which skimpy weight
     leant convenience as sigh grew older
     to alternate jumping
     (ala pogo stick mode) and hop

from one skinny spindle shank leg to another,
     and manifold orbitz whip
     sawing round the sun
     bore witness to puny laughable specimen

     of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight)
     grew long straggly hair,
     which NO ONE (except me) could touch,
     nor most definitely NOT lop

off (this fetish) compensation
     for very slight physique
     in dewed time begot
     pencil necked geek milksop,

now at an age prowl lix sing viz
     dragging, crawling, battling...
     slight abdominal bulge  
unlike widower octogenarian biological pop

whose once strapping superman
     like build atrophying (sad sight)
since grim reaper put objectionable stop
upon head of harriet harris,
    whereat two and a half score years
    her longevity did top.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
now, comb may tooth how zen,
sans eight plus ten
'twill be thirteen yars
when me late mum agonizingly relinquished

     an indomitable loo ving life,
     which strong fighting spirit
     (spittle and vinegar) yen
reached a juncture,

     (sans metastasized ovarian cancer)
     forewent heroic measures, which ken
not avail bottled anger within this sole son
telling thee, he didst love ye
     never communicating NOR often!
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Our beloved Aunt Bertha.
She didn’t see pixies and elves
She saw ******* and jerks
With no obvious perqs!
That's the breaks of being someone
That, all by themselves,
Can have arguments and fights
And even though it wasn’t right
That is who she was, unique;
Immune to other people’s pique,
Surrounded by unseen creeps.

But she loved us kids, she did.
And found us when we hid
And cooked cakes and pies.
The love in her eyes spoke clearly
And nearly bowled me over
Because it was not deluded.
Yes, her quirks intruded on us
But we let her cuss and rail
At invisible fools. Those the rules.
She couldn’t help herself a bit
And that was the end of it.

So, we listened covertly
And overtly smiled at her a lot
Knowing what we had got
Was the dotty aunt they put
In the attic in the old days
In less loving times and ways.
But we loved her and wanted
A place not haunted by wardens,
And nasty nurses robbing purses,
Where she could live her life.

She liked to sing and dance
And every time I got the chance
I danced with her, as thin as a zipper
I guided this middled aged aunt
And when she started to pant
We changed the music to slow
And right back she would go.
She sang the tunes from the war
And more from movies and shows.
Can anyone know how great it is
To share with someone impaired
And know the gift you have shared?
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