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When the sky lost it all...
darkness kissed a precious soul,
won a threatening golden knight,
a savage heart with a flaming thirst.

Intrigued I came closer...
a turbulent wild Lion I found,
intense eyes, full of hunger...
fresh blood all over the ground.

Seduced by imminent danger...
dazzled by the red moon light...
through his fire, I stepped in,
and darkness lost the fight.

What a beautiful chimera!
Our colours changing hue...
his heat, my new home...
his heart beat, my lullaby...
but forced to say goodbye.

When no hope is left in sight...
in my dreams we find each other,
your captivating smile always heals me,  
treasured gift from the night.


© Christina Philipe
CommonStory Sep 2015
I'm tired
It's to early
How exhilarating
Get up get moving
Get exonerated of past jury's
Long worries
Till death I'm  exasperating
Extravagantly emulating
This feeling
Feels like
It doesn't come with emotion
Not cold
No hurry
Not warm
Don't scurry
I will not promise that the murky waters ahead
Won't let you tread
Till you crystallize dead
Then evaporate while your mind is sleep
And your subconscious soaks the memory cup effervescent
Then will you know that
You will not come back
Escape the elasticity
With electric scissors
And that's more then needed
But it's this route you go
Because the Harder you learn the more you will grow
It's too bad this whole time you weren't sleeping
It's time for work
Copyright Matthew Marquis Xavier Donald  9-4-15
Roaming lioness,
Through the plains
Yearning for a mate
Yearning for a pride
In which is gone

No lion in sight,
The lioness softly roars
In emptiness and sadness
Her cries not heard
By a single ear of a lion

She lies softly in the dry beige grass
She wants to give up
It's all she can do
She roars again in frustration

She is the last of her kind,
Why must it come to this?
Last of the lions and lionesses
Killed by careless humans

Last survivor
Last warrioress
Lost hope
One can only know of strength
If the odds are  unbalanced
When the going is  tough.

When there's one  against  many
The weak  against  the strong; alone
Fighting  for what's right
That's where strength  roars

Strength is where one picks Themselves up
From The cold harsh ground
After being
thrown down *again and again
With mockery and violence

To fight  for what's right
That's what strength  is;
The unnoticed  struggle  and  fight.
/strength is the soul of a lion untamed and furious inside the body of a quiet sheep/
Fernanda Rangel Aug 2015
You were always trying to get closer
Approaching me in manners mysterious to me
Roaring words of love in my ear

With thrusts of your hips,
Slowly you found a way into me,
Pinned me down, ready to eat your prey

And I screamed, but I was not looking for help
I was not trying to get saved
This is where I wanted to be.
Don't set me free.
Makenzie Marie Aug 2015
there is a storm
quickly, swiftly, hurling forward.
And you are the first to know,
you are the first to feel it coming,
                            smell it looming,
                            taste it's imminent downpouring.
So take cover in your homes
or rush into the open.
Run away, little mouse
Come out to play, mighty lion.

Scream as the storm speaks out for you,
and feel the winds shake the bones of your burrow.
Or embrace the storm as it shapes you.
Feel the wind while it moves the earth beneath you--
while it blows east, west, north and south--
and works to keep you stable.
Cower under covers
while the thunder causes your world to crumble ,
And the lighting catches fire to your yard.
Or come out of your den
and dance.
while the thunder conducts your life's composition,
and the lighting creates a light show
for your nightly festivities.

Come out to play little lion,
Come out to stay,
do not be afraid.
Embrace the storm.
Farosty Aug 2015
He's tiger eyed
He's lion hearted, he's wolf spirited - so mysterious
Serious Black couldn't be more devious

Genius as a genie in a bottle, their wish is to follow
No wallows in sorrow, not a bottle swallowed
The boy shined so bright, ever wonder where the stars go?
He shouted in San Diego, they heard him up in Chicago

He goes maps edge to chase what he's pursuing
Viewing his world that they ruined, he knew it could never be new again

Old is his soul but is fresh as the meat to these vultures
War in his peace is the key to his sculpture

Pulse no longer lasts, nothing left in his mass
Fast to the black, left only legacy to pass
Tex Dermott Jul 2015
In Rattlesnake City
The moonlight had never shined
Poison reigned supreme
A small lamb offered his life
Bitten in his heart
Leaving a ****** red scar
The rattlesnakes mocked his tomb
A lion appeared
With a crown upon his head
His subjects shouted
As the rattlesnakes were consumed
The mooonlight then beamed
On this noble conqueror
The red scar on his heart glowed
This is a Naga Uta, a non-rhyming poem. Syllable count is 5-7-5, with the last two lines 7-7. Also there is no line limit.
Ella Gwen Jul 2015
I feel like the white lion
stuck in a cage for the rest of my days
feet set to tread a path barred and dusty
from all of those who trod before it.

The only excitement, the jangles of
keys from the keeper who runs to
throw carcass of rabbit, turkeys
through my bars for me
to render sustenance, incomplete.

I fear the white lion
hear my lonely roar and wonder
at such talons, canines now stolen
and feet dismembered, claws ripped
from their shackles, top-of-the-food-chain
fear desecrated.

And a genetic time-bomb too
ticks under my skin and theirs
as I sit and I listen to the lies
your children now share.

My line also ends, a mere stutter
in the sand, as the tides flow steady
and the last lion lingers.

And I am, too, held high like a beacon,
a warning, a message spanning
centuries, look, children, look!
See the mistakes of your ancestors.

See how her coat shines so very bright
that it reflects all seven colours
of the light? See how lonely and low
the last of a manipulated, mistaken,
misconstrued species can go?

She was drawn from her mother
mixed with her father, no she doesn't need him
and the others, why yes, all left
are her kin!

How wonderful, how quaint, you
know only ten now remain?
None in the wild of course, where
their life cannot sustain,
better here locked under our
constraints where we have
so much wonder, so much recreation
and education to gain.

And true, from this bleak place
they can never migrate
but look at her, no where else to go
this man-made mistake.

Don’t worry about the pacing,
the maddened, gleaming eye
the freedom they miss
out there? They would die!
And they know no other way
than this.

I know she looks sad, but
that’s just your feelings projecting,
they’re just animals, my darling,
you’re innocent, shouting in consternation
save her in the name of conservation!

But we are all white lions
all now endangered, our steps
are no freer, our lives all
subject to external changes and we
cannot move but for the cage
they have constructed, their
lives are impacted but our
wonder is not deducted.

I feel like the white lion
this ambassador of our greatness
this one mistake, so very clever,
engineered to engage us, these lives that
were wrought solely to entertain us.

I feel it, their future entwined in mine
and in humans across the ages.

Meaning of life designed, its sibilant message
dangerous, a dumb animal wandering
a set path, disregarded, destructive, aimless.
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