My mum,
Is a gem,
Busy as a bee,
Calm as a summer sea.
Elegant,with a unique style,
Never without a smile.
A fun loving, doting parent,
My best friend.
The apple of my dad's eyes,
For her sake he survives,
His love,
His gentle dove.
She is a woman of many talents,
Best,she loves to paint,
Her paintings are poetry on canvas,
Her paintings can be seen in art ń£alleries.
She hates housework,
But her responsibilities she does not shirk.
That's my mum,sweet as can be,
She will always love me.
.
Wyatt May 13
When I'm tired of beating myself up,
when I'm sick of ruining the mood
in the middle of the night...
often I try to think of you.
You live so clean, so pure.
You're so elegant, magnificent.
You're beautiful and inspiring,
believe me this is the truth.
You've always caught my eye,
the way you shine unique.
How could I ever be like you
and a lot less like me?
I admire someone like her from far away. She's an inspiration, she's always caught my eye.
jas Apr 27
her
the sun graces her skin
gently
just a touch to fall in love
warmth fills the heart
elegantly

ah , her.

melting of my soul
blends well into hers
the future is unknown
yet love carries blindly told

ah , her

into existence
she is one
and is the one
& only
for me

ahhhhh , ... her
sunprincess Mar 7
The butterfly fish
so graceful, so elegant,
leaps out of danger
Alex Thiede Nov 2017
Smoke as elegant as a woman
Dancing around you so gracefully,
But not for long
The blink of an eye and she's gone
Dissipating into the dark gloom
But like all of them, there will be more,
All the same
Dancing around you
But not for long

-AJT
Gabriel burnS Oct 2017
So much color and
So little light
The trees are jewels
Veiled by the sky
Poetic T Oct 2017
vivid colours do expand
cocooned are sisters

wings flutter elegantly
7/5/7
Carlos Oct 2017
She smelled of wild lavender and deep magicks,
The scent hanging in the air like a golden silence,
I'm trying to hold tightly yet composure is first to dissolve,
Senses fall one by one until no dominoes are left,
Stop staring, act natural and crumble on the inside,
Don't speak, reserve your efforts for a smile,
Blown fuse serviced from the under-wing like vertigo in my veins, and neatly betwixt two fingers twirl a cotton drapery,
Framed in silk halo, enshrouding like auras in a Milky Way of phantasmagoria.
Until my thoughts become in summary and each breathe becomes shorter than the last.
The artistry of her elegance like sleek fine line-work on vintage paper and I'm ... feather light.
And in those tresses I'd seen that sheen before, in the ripple of calm ocean waves, and in auburn at sunset.
I'd seen that gloss in her eyes perched upon petals as morning dew and rain upon windows in my quiet times,
Between the silhouetting slopes of her contours as dunes upon the horizon, there's an eclipse in her lips that would not speak in any less than measured prosody nor kiss without dreamscape grandeur.
She stands tall.
Shaken by the regime - all the way to a fall.
Still standing firm in her roots,
striving against the cabinet in suite.

She stands tall.
Her roots being hacked at and poisoned,
yet she does not fall.

She does not fall.
Insults hit her heart,
yet she does not begin to stall,
but her heart begins to fall.

She does not fall.
Now she stands taller
like an elegant self-conscious queen,
but with the heart of a mother that no one has ever seen.


Slowly breaking,
She falls.

The abuse has become too much.
Just to name a cause;
It was you with your helpful, root unearthing touch.

RIP Mama Afrika.
Next page