Bella Jul 4
Give me pretty
give me some flower dancing
and petals turning
give me
coachella girls

give me pretty
give me layers of long see through skirts
and dresses
and Shaw's

give me pretty
give me dancers without teachers give me dancer with the wind as their muse

give me pretty
give me bouncing
give me everything's spinning
and turning
and lifting
and flying

give me flying
give me eyes closed
head back
arms stretched
fingers reaching

give me pretty
give me white linen pretty
stone the bear Apr 2016
Where you see weeds,
I see blooming trees.
Old flowers,
new leaves.

Buried by drifts of snow,
yet something beckons them to grow.

The transforming seed
stretches
with a desire to breathe.

What do you see?
Grave of the dead?
or tomorrow’s flower bed?

Death comes
and death goes,
yet the crazy daisy’s
wild roots never froze.

Somewhere, within her,
the plan was already seeded.
The simple truth?
The light was all she really needed.

This law paralyzed her with desire,
to see nothing but nature’s unseen fire.

She laid and she wait
as the bitter winds blew.
But in all of the darkness,
nothing from her grew.

Do you believe in time and in fate?
She pondered as she lay and wait.

In her shell, she is saved.
What lays beyond, may leave her graved.

Is there such a thing as better tomorrows?
She wallows,
wading,
in the mud of her endless sorrows.

She did not,
could not,
fully understand:
the price that must be paid
in order to be grand.

As a seed,
she thought she knew.
She had something left,
yet to do.

It required her break to her very core,
in the hopes of be coming some thing far more.

She emerged from her old,
cold,
worn shell,
seeking the warmth and comfort
of a new place to dwell.

She must give one last, epic fight.
Squaring off,
this time, on the side of sunlight.

"Make like a bandit
and run from your cell!
Never look back
and you’ll never fail."

She solely set sight
on its’ captivating rays.
Gleaming and unfolding
to enjoy the beautiful days.

In this attempt,
her core begin to extend.
Allowing her to appreciate,
and bask in all the sun had to send.

Standing tall and growing crazed,
she basks in the fragrance of the cold, passing days.

She heard all the stories
every leaf had to tell.
Even if it was true,
that to their grave
they eventually fell.

She tried with all her might.
The seed saw it through.
With diligence and perseverance,
so could you.

Although at times,
I know it’s difficult to see.
When going through a change,
the truth will eventually set you free.
{even if it feels a little strange}
When these changes do arise,
there’s always a brighter side.
Your time in darkness makes you wise,
if you choose to enjoy the ride.

You are the delicate flower.
Take your time,
to truly understand
your heart’s eternal fire,
buried deep under the sand.

Then set foot to build your tower,
to match your own deeply rooted desires.

Become the beautiful
delicate
flower.

*

But nonetheless,
The seasons will change,

Always remember, September,
and there must always be December,
along with many April’s rains.

And as the seed,
before it can bloom;
you as well,
will see many
hours of gloom.

mKp (3/24)
anna macleod Mar 2016
as i breathe in the wicked cold air
it caresses my forsaken lungs
and makes me realize how truly mortal we are

its enough to make me sick
the air we breathe
the things we see
and its so hard
to just sit here
and not have the ability
to do anything

and its such a paradox
because its so beautiful

the air rushes through my body
sending a shiver down my spine
and i freeze
just like the bitter snow
on the ground

but i see
as the seasons change
and the wicked cold goes away
splendor and joy replace the bitterness
and pain

and it is in my mind
that the same will happen for the world

when this time of tragedy and darkness
come to pass
we will have pleasure and joy
that will come to last
NuBlaccSoul Jan 2016
Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS
inspired and dedicated to my muse - a banquet of beauty, a model of black excellence and a colourful character and a bubbly spirit. God bless her soul.
                           |
(c) 2016. Phila Dyasi. All Rights Reserved. Intellectual property of author.
Sara Escalante Apr 2014
I've looked at my own palms
And seen the lines of this life fading
Fire, water, earth
All getting swallowed by the air

I've turned to love for grace
But she spat sympathies unholy
Success is but a sunset
When there's no soul with it to share

I've fallen to the ground and begged
The moon to give me courage
Yet that mystic orb just waned
And left me naked like a child

I've searched the maze for truth
Ground my teeth upon the logic
But once I left the cave for light
My place was lost among the wild
yovanny andres Apr 2014
her kaleidoscopic eyes puts a spell on me, a spell that makes me paralyzed in every single move that i tend to make.
a spell that puts maximized intensity in the analysations & fantasies that's keeping me awake at night and dreamy in the morning rise.

— The End —