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ryn Apr 20
If indeed
my heart knows
every word
to this song,

why then
does my voice
argue that it
should never
be sung?
Black Petal Mar 29
Moon glitters on waves
Blackbird sings in the shadows
Nature's midnight song
Danny C Jul 2019
You'll find sparrows, my mother said.
Not in the thick,
nor the deep dark
canopies of the woods.

You will find them, in droves,
at the ends of tree lines,
busy, busy — always busy
whether with song or with twig.

You will find them in coves
singing upon the vines,
busy, busy — always busy
calling out upon a sprig.

They are small when alone (much like me,
in the long, still, silent hours of my nights).
But in the morning they are a chorus
reminding you of all the work yet begun.

So, go, find yourself a tree.
You'll find sparrows when you're done.
Rupert Pip Jun 2019
People are always going to shout
louder than you.
So quietly sing a peaceful song
and those who care to listen
will sing along too.
Enjoying life on your own terms.
The world sings love, from lover to lover,
And what if I, don’t love enough as they?
Reed warblers trill to love as they hover,
Love on their mind, they sing their heart away.

When the time comes, they exist for one thing,
Like the love that makes the hooded grebe dance,
And grasshoppers with no heart still can sing,
While I, lowly I, have not their romance.

The beasts in their beauty know more than I,
In their love season, their love is complete.
They show love as if they don’t they will die,
But I love from the depths of self-conceit.

When a lovebird calls, he holds nothing back,
How I wish I could love as much as he!
Nature gave instinct for love that I lack,
The song of the songbird is not in me.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Poetic T Feb 2019
Are my eyes not sewn
To the vestagise's of
                                You.

Your words like songbirds
In mornings glory,
                     singing the awakening

                                           of ourselves..

We fly higher in dawns rising,
         and slumber in a nest of
                                            two,
                            when dusk falls beneath
                                                    our hearts.

Two feathers always gliding
            on the rhyme of loves wind.
And we soar for eternity
          as we are the breath beneath
                       each others yearnings.
Pyrrha Jan 2019
He didn't know the love she had
Buried beneath her skin
Held behind the bars of her rib cage
Her heart was there, burning with desire
Beating within was the song of love sung by a lark

Alas, he couldn't hear it
From the surface he only saw an expressionless doll
He never listened to her when she tried to sing to him
That deafening sound that refused to please him

So instead of being left with a song
Destined to drive her to madness
She released the lark within

But that boy couldn't let her go
Tortured by the thoughts of her
Haunted by the memory of her
He defiled their trust

She could no longer stay silent as she planned
So she opened her mouth and told him
He was not a man
She hurt his pride and didn't mind

Her lark returned
But that pretty bird was consumed by rage
Her heart now burned with a different flame
David Acker Jr May 2018
I love it when she sing to me.
Making my blood pressure rise
Heart pounding
Her lyrics pounding on my ear drums.
Pheromones being released
By her voice.
Euphoria begins to settle in
While I enticingly
Yearn for more.
Harmony being played
By her vocal cords,
So gracefully
Pulling on my heart strings
As I beg and plead
For this moment
To never end.

Her Moans
Red-haired artificially
with shiny teeth,
clean knees
with a gap in between.

and my voice will carry
like a songbird in the morning.
Beautifully composed
uttering a peaceful warning

My linens
So pink...
no blue stains to be seen.

And the skin I wear
Porcelain.
airbrushed and screaming
a lulled importance

With my night creams
and appointments
lessons and ointments

I will become the most perfect woman-made sculpture America has ever seen.
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