Once
She told
She is close
To the God

Silent
Humble
Peaceful

To her wonder
Long time, ahead
I had started to
Worship her
Genre: Observational
Theme: Diamond are precious, they emit their vibe
Unconditionally
I praise the lords
So much

They too know, they
Don’t deserve it

I find, such
Selfless and un-noticed,
Moving humans,
Who never cared recognition

Nevertheless, they,
keep moving

Now I,
keep them closer.
Genre: Rational
Theme: switching priorities
you
and then there was you
who, without knowing
just knew
(you)
(move) to
rhythms (my)
(soul) can’t help
but d a n c e
(along)
to
you move my soul along
y o u
vibrate to (the)
(Cosmic) Truth
a tune my soul
g r o o v e
(dance)s
to
a cosmic dance
writer omsy Feb 10
As I rush back
To my young days
Wished I had stayed there
For a while longer
To make things right

Where as I'm falling
And never touched the ground
Frightened of what it could do
To me

Here,
I'm waiting for someone
Recognition to my ink
So, later I'll be glad
That everything was worth it
meeting for the (first) time
our bodies may have (though)t
but deep down (my) internal clock
had endlessly ticked a (rhythm)
that had always (synched)
(to you)r every thought
first, though, my rhythm synched to you
one girl pours out
her heart and soul
on paper with ink
and shares her true
emotions with the
world but doesn’t
receive as much
well deserved
recognition as the
other girl who has
only her tits to share

then there’s the
other girl who
has it
all:
the emotion
the heart
the soul
the tits
which essentially,
has nothing at all
but with the right know how
she can rule the world

I guess,
you have to die a little
first
if you wanna make it fast
No disrespect to women. Just an observation I’ve been noticing on other social media sites.
i am not one for making bets
but i bet your heart skipped too
when my soul recognized you
I must confess

to a most heinous crime

for less than 5 minutes

after I wrote my rhyme,

I came back with a click

and was nearly sick

to find I'd no views,

no adulation, no news,

no-one to recognise

my wondrous wordsmithery.


Then in my inner ear,

to dispel all fear,

a whispering noise,

a gentle voice:


"If there is no love for words in your heart,

but merely for applause and for public cause,

shed a tear for your efforts, for they'll never be art."
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