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S Nirmal Kumar Oct 2018
Enchanting blossoming of flowers
Rejuvenate in times of gloom and despair
Cherubic smile of my daughter!
We once were there amongst the lilies
Where innocence blossomed and cherubs listened
To hear the sound of fabled whispers
For all that loved, there was enlisted

Thereupon the toadstools listened
Wicked creatures, for their emissions
Taken aback by hopes and visions
Sharpened claws and stood their mission.

They brought upon an early winter
They scared away the hopeful dreamers
Lilies withered, faded we shivered
The light remained for only minutes

Alas, he to was out of vision
Off he flew, though there she waited
She planted roses, thawed the snow.......
Wondering if they'd ever grow.
From my Allpoetry profile
Jesse stillwater Mar 2018
A pair of lily white wings
   dangling in the dappled moonlight esprit;
hang entangled as silken spider web
   draped in the sweet Magnolia tree

From beneath there was no way of knowing
   why a pair of abandoned wings lodge mislaid
One could not help but wonder how high
   one might fly with cherub wings

But these callused feet tread far below the treetops
   too high up from roots to climb
No telltale tiptoe prints cavort to be the talebearer
   No feathered traces scattered all around

A hearken say, tickle-footed as a ladybug,
   hold forth in a breeze brushed ear
Not completely undoubtable heed spoken;
   a language bestow from another ether
softly breathe a whisper'd sigh:

"Behold the wings of a fallen angel;
   uplifted by love's amazing grace
Lost alone in a moonstruck blindness
   an angel flying too close
           to the ground

                      ~

                   Jesse
.
            08 March 2018
Ash Feb 2018
At this point, I only hope he can rest peacefully
And that a part of him has been reincarnated into an unassuming cherub.
At this point, I just hope that one day when I’m old and grey-headed
In Soho or Orlando or in Florence...
I’ll come across a young man laughing.
A young man who resembles him: his unique look, the distinctive voice, distinct laugh...
I won’t know it and neither will he.
But perhaps we’ll meet again for a split second
In another time, another place, another life...
Richard Grahn Nov 2017
Angels gather in chilly skies,
Floating down to kiss the ground.
Their silent songs are gathered there,
Upon a landscape cold and bare.

Gentle wings on an icy prayer,
Paint the world with frosty dreams.
Cherubs dancing through the air,
Time stands still or so it seems.

Seraphim descend,
Messengers from heaven above.
Blanketing a quiet earth
With peaceful, tender, healing love.

The winds have changed,
Sweet songs remain
But night grows long
As the moonlight wanes

Spirits waltz across the field
As clouds are gently swept away.
Wielding starlight, night remains
An angel’s keep through autumn’s deep.
"Over there
Witness all the rooms you rent,
Moments, Memories,
all the pieces of heart
gifted by lovers or strangers"
said The Cherub.
"My arrows choose which you will cherrish."

"While we lay entangled here,
Having consumed one another.
Do you wonder if we will cherrish this?"
said The Archer.

"Would you like to come even closer
And discover the answer? "
replied The Cherub.

"Every memory I've choosen to cherrish,
Has Shattered"
says The Archer.

"Well of course it did,
You tried to choose.
We cannot choose
which memories we will cherrish.
We may only pull
faith From quiver.
Give in to potential
without intention.
Close your eyes.
Empty all your senses
Until the only sense you have is Trust
I'll fill those empty spaces,
can you feel me?"

"Yes, you are close."

"You have my quiver now.
We still have no control over whether
We will cherrish this moment.
Put your faith in this bow.
Draw back our arrow
Trust it's natural path.
Close our eyes.
Forget this room.
Volley the whole tower"
Originally Written as The Title/Description of My Paper sculpture of the same name:
You can VIEW THAT PAPER SCULPTURE HERE:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ8_LYYF-3H/

~
~
I, in sorrow forever live and swell.
A thousand pangs and more each hour.
Alone to wait and weep for misery's bell
And bleed in Hell's Stygian bower.

Marred by silence, marred alone,
Obsequies possessed and slighted.
Death in heart, death in home,
But, my love, redemption, sighted.

The beauteous Cherub, me heart adored,
From the arms of Nyx delivered;
My bliss forever with her restored
And from our love, death did slither.

— The End —