Midnight twilight
In a magic hour
Portrait in the heart
Echoing through the nights
Eternity is believed to exist,
In the roots of Rose,
Life is a blessing, so is time
Death is inevitable, Gods die too
Beauty of life, we all die
Statue gets life, after that time

Light seems brighter in the darkest night
Dead are silence, let them RIP
Can’t explain life without death
Life is a blessing
Is this what love truly is?
Genre: Alternate Spiritual
Spiritual: faith is projected in focus.
Alternate Spiritual: Explores a science of faith.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Tranquil Dawn Feb 10
the towering fibrous
mountainous boughs
a spread eagled kind of
friendly “beast”

Swollen roots
tripping negligent awe-seekers
eyes are shanghaied
by imperious brows

Like thumb suckers
toddling along
reassuring platitudes

such majesty
thoughts shudder
bubbling in darker streams.

What are we but man??
gods deface their ideology
birthing impetuous goals of self import
we list into guileless conquest.

It’s laughable really.
The “trees” have it.
She wears an expression like a bad night sleep.
They came for my metal heart and left a government permit.
I do not use measuring spoons when I cook my curry...
I listen for the spirit of my ancestors to say, “enough child”.
I wish they talked to me about more than spice.
i am no stranger to nostalgia
my lungs fill with flowers
that look like your eyes
i am surrounded by
seeds of your laugher
f l o u r i s h i n g
from flashbacks
clouding my mind
farewells can’t exist if
you grow in my spine
i am endlessly
e n t a n g l e d
in your passing  by
words all have their roots
ped = foot
saurus = dinosaur
photo = light

just like my love for you has roots
or like a tree has roots

and all these things are infinite

the power of language
the power of nature
the power of love
please leave a like or comment! It would mean so so so much :) :) :)
the mountain only grows steeper
so that your roots can dig in deeper

keep climbing
Angie Jan 29
This is my origin.
From here I was born.
The roots planted at my feet take me back to a land that was once ours.

In the color of my skin
I can see my ancestors.
Their beliefs.
Their customs.
Their history.
It is not lost.
It lives within me.
Within the native blood that courses through my veins.

I can hear the songs.
The music and the dances around a raging fire.
The song turns to screams.
Fire grows hotter.

The invasion begins by the original immigrants that now call it home.
Spilling blood with weaponry never seen before.
Talking in a language never heard before.
Preaching about gods never preached before.
Taking what once was ours and making it their own.
Calling it home.

But by the color of my skin.
And the blood filled roots within me.
We will remember.
What was once ours.
Wrote this in my history class as I was hearing once again about the foundation of Puerto Rico, my home.
Mars Jan 25
Thinking wondering creature
True words can be so acute
This single breath is our nature
Thought is no substitute

This lone breath is the root
Thought you were you but you weren't
That knowledge is the fruit
The benefit is never apparent

This knowledge is the fruit
The gift is the present
This single breath is the root
Thought it was you, but it wasn’t
Latin Jan 22
i. I call on the wake of winter
to bring forth something fast
I can keep still no longer

ii. I wind my fingers
into the fabric of earth
tearing chunks out
to make a path to
where I need to go

iii. No cold nor dirt
will hold me back
as I make my way
faster than before
slower than I soon will

iv. I plant my feet
wiping soil-stained hands
onto the smooth cloth of my dress
I step forward
pulling my own roots free
I will hold myself back no longer
mjad Jan 14
People don't really ever change
They stay the same
They have one home they go back too
One smell that brings them back when they close their eyes
There's always one lover they remember more than others
Always that one home cooked meal that they crave
One person they long to see after years apart
There's one gravestone they will fix the crooked flowers of
One old friend they wish they hadn't lost track of over time

There is always the same roots to one tree even if the branches fall off
People don't really ever change
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