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I S A A C Jul 2022
goon in love
too soon to trust
that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along
gazing above
wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me
generational trauma, nature works in cycles
generational drama, focus on plastic idols
daydreams in the white room
unfaithful to the divine fruit
Diesel Apr 2021
while stumbling on a lemon tree
the yellow shone a heaven glow
and golden rays had shadowed me
that takes apart my happy soul
Diljeev Jan 2021
It was last year
the day they embrace
their love,
all of them,
it was then
I declared my own.
Seeds were sown,
In the sun then
her face shone,
it was me alone
who could see,
the seeds growing
into our sweet union's tree.
But as fate would have it,
it's their union's fruits
that the tree bore,
and it was almost as if
an encounter with death
deep inside my core,
there was rebirth then,
a man with the whole earth
to his name as if,
it is indeed land galore,
to sow seeds
until one day a tree grows
just like it's seeds it's pure,
bearing fruits
it should've always bore.
Karijinbba Oct 2020
Who am I? I am indigenous
Purhēcha poetess butterfly.
Monarch butterflies arrive at
my homeland where bees make
wild sweet honey bestest.
Exotic Guamuchil fruits, chinese granadas; avocados grow too
amazing livestock makes best meat.
Michoacán’s tourist
success owes
its magic to butterflies and food.
my indigenous people thrive
in oxigen abundant land.
My people's joyous mind state
is contagious.
Every year between the months
of October and March, 20 million monarch butterflies migrate
to my forest land Michoacán
from all over North America,
traveling up to 3,000 kilometers
(1,864 miles) to spend the winter
in my State's mountains.

Monarchs arrive, covering so many acres changing color to my forest land  from jougle green to orange black,
phenomenon that attracts tourists from world wide lands..

Butterflies visit Hello Poetry
from many a lands too!
Reading writing poetry to
this poet's cyber home land
where I donate in waives
for in waives I breathe in-n-out

In waives poets read my stories
and in waives butterflies
come and go.
Copy Rights apply /2020.
In waives life comes and goes in cycles reincarnate
Monarch butterfly
Michoacán fores land Mexico
hybridstorm Jul 2020
Hey future,
I need you to listen to me,
I yearn for splashes of colors
for I have traces invisible
I work for hands reliable
for I need to have what it takes for the undescribable
I try to get things all nice and glowy
so please make them sliced yet flowy.

                                                         ­            -storm-
Future-the mind boggler.
-elixir- Jun 2020
The sun blares upon me,
as I gather my fruits
from the tree of life.
My body aches and
perspires and I go on,
picking them for my future.
The gloom of this mundane,
sets into my mind,
as I toil in the heat.
I yearn for the rain,
to come and cleanse
me of this toil
and let me enjoy,
the fruits.
we go about gathering things all our life yet don't feel satisfied.
Ashlyn Yoshida Apr 2020
Cherry plums for the small goat
Pits for the large chicken
Milk and water
Bury; slaughter

Remember to call me when it's done.
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