I see a lion through the rose petals in the bushes his mane forms and rests The wind blows and I can hear his roar revealing a pink tongue The gold of his body blends into the gold of the grass It glistens and it shines I see his power It is mine.
She came in like a lion. Long wild hair everywhere, loud and outlandish. She was outspoken and shameless, so settled in her own skin. You couldn’t not see her, not hear her, not want a part of her to be inside of you. Vibrant and never ending. There were memories jam packed behind her eyes, things you knew that she was dying to forget. But she was stronger for them, better for them. She grew from every tragedy. If you were lucky she might whisper them to you alone in the safety of darkness, but in the light of day she would never show weakness. No, she was all over the room, opinions, and laughter, hand motions and impressions, spinning like the Tasmanian Devil of Human Emotion. Everywhere, and spreading like wildfire. There was no stopping her, no controlling the wildcat inside of her. She came in like a lion. She roared and everyone listened.
As I stood Alongside a lake I contemplated At the holy fish Fearlessly they swimed Fearlessly they jumped It was a holy lake Fishing wasn't allowed Fearlessly they dived Fearlessly they survived For there was a curse Anyone fishing a fish As a ***** they would finish As I contemplated A beauty appeared Hi, you're a star In the galaxy? I enquired No, she said In my eyes The lion roared In the nearby safari The lion roared In my heart I was so powerful I was so smart I said, OK, try! Neither she was holy fish Nor I was holy fish We fished and fished!
I'm no less than a lion-hearted soul Who lives by high heroic skills, Courageously fights off jackals, And rescues victims with flawless charisma
But I ain't less than a dignified warrior The most Blessed Teacher, an exemplary Has taught me About a weapon Which has been the answer to infinite sorrows dreamy desires and unthinkable perils I've used it to cheer up saddened souls And to relieve the unrelieved
It is my light It is the weapon to divert from hapless ends it is the key to unlock the gates of Mercy It is otherwise known as Dua
my hair will not spit sparks if you brush it it will cling onto your hands the brush your shirt and shorts the ones that ride up against your thigh my hair will not curl lovingly around your fingers it will grab onto anything put through it it will keep you here a part of me forever, the way it should be my hair will not remind you of flames but maybe of a lion though easily tamed is it when it's sprawled across your lap your nails gingerly scratching my scalp no my hair will not cascade down my back ever so gracefully masking the scars from my past teasing you in its waves it will claw against my spine, it will dare you to draw near my hair will not remind you of an ocean spread out so perfectly as I run, molding against a perfect sunset it will be a beast, sneering at you luring you closer, begging to be chased it will make you its prey no my hair will not be brushed out my favorite knot will be entertainment, lack of motivation in its calligraphy, you see it as a cry for help, it is my declaration of power. my hair will not spit sparks when you brush it. it will be the forest and flames all in one, and when you're choking on the smoke, you'll remember that hair is power. to touch it is to drain it. so I empty all into your talons because my hair will remind you of a monster and your breath will be its leash.