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Skyward Sep 6
The messenger must be ready
To pack his bags and leave.
He will not cling to useless weight,
His message is too sweet.
He will not stop to catch a breath,
He cares not for his needs.
He runs to tell of what he knows
— A poet with his feet.

The soldier stands in shining mail
And seems, of men, the best.
Because he stand on guard all night,
The citizens can rest.
He has no need to question if
He’ll pass the final test.
In bravery he'll meet the foe
— A poet with his chest.

The farmer tends his crops and reaps
The produce of the land.
He plows the field and tills the dirt
According to his plan.
His yield, year round, is sustenance
For animal and man.
He helps the tender seeds to grow
— A poet with his hands.

The scholar can by careful thought
Reveal the source of rain.
He takes a youth with passions wild
And makes him wise and tame.
O’er books and notes he slaves all night,
Our hearts and minds to train.
In gold he never found his wealth
— A poet with his brain.

The poet fills a simple verse
With wisdom to the brim.
He feels within his breast that beauty
Is his closest friend.
Where does the humble poet fit
Among these noble men?
The poet, with his measured words,
Is all these with a pen.
At the corner of my eye
A large, colorful butterfly
Lands on a flower bush
In aggravation, I shush
The brutal wind
And open my mind
To the thought of
My angel above
Ever so holy
Watching me closely
Through the beady eyes
Of the butterfly.
Saige Mar 20
Forest never forgot.

Those that stayed too long,
warned by the land.  

And when they entered
again, unheeding --  

Forest never forgave.
Inspired by Lois Lowry's novel "Messenger", part of the Giver series.
Jenish Feb 3
When my heart started ticking in rhyme
And the three arms ran around and chime
I ran faster and fast
Then got slower at last
And now not good enough for a dime.
A W Jan 13
Your mouth is a smoking gun.
Reloading for the next reply,

After insults have been fired.
Shoot me down where I stand,

Silence me before the quipped-barrel clicks.
Triggered, you shoot the messenger,

Before our story had finished.
Started out simple but kind of became about the past ghosts who tried to put me down. But I'm back for my redemption. Taking back my life to where I want it to be.
We used to talk for hours,
Through messages on our phones,
About anything and everything,
Even moans and groans.

We use to chat alot,
Catching gossip and thoughts,
About how hot or cold it was,
And I'm always wearing shorts.

I used to wake to a message,
"Good morning
Was written about a friend who we spoke pretty much everyday for months, about everything and anything. We used to check our phones constantly to see if they had replied or messaged me. But now its like a one way conversation. And its sad. Like we're falling away from each other. Like I've been replaced. Or I'm just over thinking. Probably the latter.
Kennedy Sep 2019
I thought you were sent from heaven,
But you came straight from hell.
clawing, scratching, gnawing me down.
Not even “God” can save us now.
Te hodiste. “**** it.”
Pobrecito. “Poor thing.”
Cooing like a child who steals your heart,
Never to return.
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
the sky is a messenger
a catcher of stories from dreamers
a holder of the stars that inspire even non-believers

can the sky hold by confessions
can it be my listener?

when the sky is empty
my dreams are homeless
for nowhere can hold worlds as large as infinity
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
An ally today, snake tomorrow.
Had to take a small nap.
Wasn't feeling too hot!
Working on the Gala now! ^-^
Lyn ***
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