The wind that blows
Clouds grow
Trees sway
The sound that they make,
the sound that's peculiar,
the sound is also an indication,
rains are here to stay.

It's a lull before the storm
The storm arrives,
followed by rain
Rains are here to stay.

As of now it's raining since a long time now
Just before a few minutes reached home sound and safe
In nick of time everything changed
Rains are here to stay.

DF 1d

You've cut my wings, but they've grown back.
They're stronger and fuller than ever.

You told me I was broken, but now my features are sharper.

You told me I'd never fly, but now I'm soaring through the sky.


Since it's April, Happy National Poetry Month!

I've decided that my resolution for turning 22 will be to chill out.
Everyone tells me that when they see me out in public I look angry or stressed.
And ya know what?
They're probably not wrong.
I am so stupidly anxious and I worry about things that haven't even happened yet.
I want to learn to let it go, or
just wait and see what happens.
I want to learn to say yes instead of always saying no.
And when I am out in public or where ever I need to let myself feel whatever I'm feeling; but do it in private.
Go to a restroom or stay in the car and just let it the fuck it out,
because I will always be anxious and crazy but I have to stop letting it control me.
I claim to be such a nice person but I'm not anymore.
I'm really just not ME anymore and I haven't been for a long time.
I want to figure out who the hell Paige is.

Also, I want to take care of my health and only wear clothes that I love.
JAC 6d

I wish beyond wishes
To remain human with you:
We'll change and grow
And age and slow
But in the end, we'll prove were just

For a favourite human of mine.
Yusof Asnan Apr 21

She was never one to grow wings and fly away,
She just can't leave her tree and be vulnerable,
She needed to be strong for herself,
Now she grow roots and became the tree itself.


Data Apr 18

Tell my father (if you can find him)
that I, too, have died; tell him that I am dead, and

if I say, all paths have led to this place,
to this avenue where the olives grow,

let him know that I found some comfort there,
where the cherry spread its boughs and
lemons ripened in winter sun…

So, when that final day is done, beyond any
exact hour or minute, say, I stayed on and watched

as my old sol dipped, and that old moon rose
as yellow as that fruit’s faithless amrita. O bitter,

sour is the flavour of the mortal earth,
even as the red-kissed sky paints it not,

even as the slivered moon waits
and watches for its ghosts to disinter,
yet, from the winter’s cold no spectres stir:

they have no cure for that fatal cut,
no moment to revisit the drawing night.

But, I might not surrender, old man. If I may,
let me linger here beneath the opened arms
of heaven’s gate…

And wait… as shadows shudder beneath,
imitating forms that once stood here
in the glade where the sun still shone and would

not admit to anything other than a cycle:
as though returning was as natural

as this spinning orb.

While this whetted winter draws about, without
a warm hand to guide a laden pen, let me

begin and say again, ‘Tell my father that I am dead!’
Tell him, that I cut the lemon from the tree before

it was ripe, and I sucked hard on nectar tart until
I’d drained its heart, then spat its pithy skin upon
the road. Tell him, I walked the avenue and heard
the black fruit crack beneath my impatient tread.

Say, I made some notes along this way,
and I left them sheltered beneath the olives’ spread
where, if he has the time, he can read

and perhaps,
perpend the thoughts that I was disinclined to speak.


Upon the suicide of my father
Yule Apr 17

you were just a seed
I planted, expecting only a flower
but then you provided me a garden
you were so beautiful
but I must not pull you out
for your stem will droop
and your petals will die
so I watered you with care
handled you till you bloomed
ever so lovely—
till it was too much for me to bear
your roots, I ought to pull out
but you've been struck deep
into the surface of my skin
later suffocating me with your vines,
wrapping around my chest
so I will just wait for summer to pass
for then like the autumn leaves I fall
and these feelings will run dry
till it is too cold for you to grow
into the winter's unbearable ground

if love can grow so enormously, then can it be pulled back from the earth and wither?

—; "my heart aches for you."

Jesus Thankyou. For putting up with me.
Thankyou for your sacrifice on the cross
Please use me on hello poetry
Feed me  those prophesies
Directly to my Spirit
You are the anchor of my Soul
I  want  to glorify your name Jesus
I am willing to be used

cait Apr 13

you love growth
and so do i.
why can't we grow together?
why are you the only one allowed to flourish?

I'm lost
Ma Cherie Apr 5

Spring is coming here real soon,
but the snow it came here late,
for the tiny buds in early boon,
it's a shame they'll have to wait,

Confusing is the forecast,
so some may never bloom,
as a crystal blanket now lasts,
and the skies are colored gloom,
covered still in white- all glassed,
an still such dangers loom,

Yet as the waiting blossoms urge,
I see a hopeful lil little sprout,
I see a poking head- up serge,
relieving me of any doubt,

As the Winter Snowdrops splurge,
an the tallest one to shout,
"get up and grow"
"I mean c'mon
c'mon you must know-
it's our time to let it out!"

"C'mon Winter Aconite,
and crocuses,
remember what-
Robin Williams said?"

"Spring is Nature's way
of saying let's party!!!"

So come on then,
let's go up now an make
a lovely little bed,
they'll be plenty time to sleep again,
come Wintertime,
when we are all so slyly,
playing dead!

Ma Cherie © 2017

Lol  just for fun!  Miss Robin Williams tho ;/ Now I need to get busy moving! See you when I get back! Muah xx ma Cherie ❤❤❤.
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