Star BG 36m

Words are in my blood.
Red corpuscles the syllables.
White punctuation.

They flow into heart
each racing
to my epicenter of pumping organ.

Little haematids dance
bonding inside hearts song.

They all become like flag
in red, white, and blue
echoing the anthem of life.

They float grabbing breath
to make visions materialize.

Soon blood generates
a vortex of thoughts
that coagulated.

And wala a poem is born.

StarBG © 2017

w y n n e 45m

i came to a point in life where every time i breathe i wish it will be my last breathe

Speak to me
Help me find the real
I need to know
What love is

I feel you
I need you
So it seems
But is it real

Physical attraction
Finds me in the real world
Spiritual attraction
Binds me to you

Two hearts bound together
Far beyond the laws of flesh
We become each other
Heart to heart, soul to soul

In the latter days
We shall trancend
Our love burns eternal
And so we shall ever be

But will our hearts follow
Our loves, our passions
Beyond love
Beyond desire

True love perfected
The depths of passion realised
The music of the soul
An eternal song of praise

We meet again, two lovers by the sea

Baby, your eyes bring me to a knee

Praying to God, my wife you’ll be

Hoping that this soon you’ll see

But just tonight, be one with me!

I beg you set us free

I cannot resist the contours of thee

Sweet face invoking joyful glee

You are the lock upon my key

tonight it’s only you and me!

Let’s open the door to temptation
As you reach for us to be

-Luiz Syphre

in foreign streets
I find myself
with muses
aching to find
on paper
in another

BG 11h

I should not feel ashamed
of what I wear
in public.
I should not fear
wandering eyes
and side ways expressions –
looking me up and down
like I am an object
to be toyed with.
I should not have to
avoid unwanted glances
from those who think
they are superior
and feel they have a right
to what I show of myself.

no one has a right to me.
no one has a say in what I wear
or how I think
or how I choose to portray myself.
I am a sixteen year old girl.
a sixteen year old girl who
should never be petrified
of wearing shorts in
ninety degree weather.
a sixteen year old girl
who shouldn’t be harassed
for the said objectification
of her own body.
a girl who shouldn’t be told
that she was asking for it
and it was her fault
for revealing her own skin.

but their eyes still wander.
they wander across my body
like an animal hunting for prey
and it doesn’t matter if I’m covered
or hiding in the best way I possibly can.
to them, I am still weak. easy.
and they know that they will
forever have the upper hand.
and if I try to use my voice
it will only be beaten by the fact that

I was asking for it,
and I am the one who chose
to portray myself in such a way
to tempt those around me.
and whatever occurred after was,
and always will be,
my fault.

you will not define me

The ink absorbs into the paper as my
thoughts become words
my words become art
my art becomes a story
and my story is no ordinary story.
No, it's much more than that. It's me.
So, read between the lines.

We are strangers in the daylight.
Lovers in the moonlight.

We seek the darkness to
Fulfill our love.

We hate the light that separates us

We know love is a btch.
But we keep f
ckin with it
Until we perish.

Stroke a myth and kiss a legend
Lose my strain in a cool, still pool
Where ripple echoes with the music
of memories
The linnet bird flies, no longer a fool
chained by doubt and crippled by fear
I've finally found my trill
That outshines the sun and
rattles the stars
I have a fire to fill

Poem I wrote in my journal. Been such a long day, too.
Got my overall result from uni, got my coursework and
now to find my way.

A deathly silence filled the air,
As I stood amongst a real nightmare,
I didn’t hear a single sound,
And in that moment my heart did pound.

The large vehicle lay on its side,
Like a stricken boat caught in low tide,
It lay there not alone,
But with 13 men trapped and they started to moan.

On hearing those poor unfortunate souls,
Who must of been thrown round like rag dolls,
I ran to seek help but my legs were like lead,
But I ran and ran as I thought men were dead.

With the RMP I arrived back at the scene,
A place i will never forget that I’ve been,
With lights and noise and people all around,
The rescue of men now on the ground.

As I stood in a daze fixed on the lights and noise,
My attention did switch, I changed my poise,
I could hear a voice talking to me,
“It’s ok, sit down, they’re all alive, almost free”.

Those words were what I needed to hear,
For most of that night I was swathed with fear,
As I thought I’d killed those in my lorry,
But we all survived, eternally grateful and I’m forever sorry!

I wrote this poem after an intense EMDR therapy session for my PTSD treatment.
I was the unfortunate driver of a military vehicle that I crashed when I was 19 and spent many years blaming myself and suffering.
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