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Maybe it's the obsidian spirit within that wishes to be in her axis spin
A topsy-turvy tango on the turnpike
My heart tries keeping pace
Embarrassment of riches, her smile never saves face
I'm spoiled to witness a heavenly Rorschach test walking
Olympic views sparkling on high
A natural one
Holy smokes
I've seen the evergreens blush red
When she brushstrokes
Her paintbrush-lush hair amidst the background of the Puget Sound
So refreshing
Trapped in her net
Outside the network of jerks
Fishing for lust
Refresh the pages
Reload the look of ages
My type of hype
She's keying in on my keen instincts
Putting wings on my desires
So heights can be admired
So fright can be delayed
In flight, I've fallen.


- Ifeanyi Okoro II
Star BG Feb 2019
I look to the East and with deepen breath,
free my soul inside love.
I look to the West and with dancing steps,
free my soul inside dreams.
I look to the South and with open eyes,
free my soul inside visions.
I look to the North and with hearts song,
free my soul as my mind follows.
Free Mind thank you for inspiring me
Kmary Feb 2019
Where we 1st met: 41.06°N, -74.02°W

Our first kiss: 41.09°N, -73.92°W

Our first date: 41.16°N, -73.97°W

Our first “I love You:” 41.07°N, -74.02°W

Our first carnival: 41.01°N, -74.01°W

Our first vacation: 20.21°N, -87.45W
Naptural Mermaid Jan 2019
It’s been told she has the heart of the Sun A bright bronze sphere
That can never turn down fun
Brazen is she towards those who stand in her way
Guided by faith, her feet never stray
No matter the currents or the strength of the Tides
She goes low when they fly high
Like Hawksbill, Green, Loggerhead and Leatherback
She attains the longevity they endure
Her voice is as sweet as the Black Pineapple
Her beauty resembles the Antiguan hibiscus
Some might even say more
For her beauty is something you can’t ignore
Whenever one door closes
She makes one more open
Always giving faith a fighting chance
Whenever the option arises
She always chooses to DANCE!
As the soca rhythm flows into her blood steam
And the bright colors of carnival collide
There outshining the others
You can find the person I call my “MOM”
My Antiguan Queen
Always representing red white black blue and gold pride
Hunter Dec 2018
Shut your mouth
Take your crap head south
I will not stop now
I will figure this out somehow
This won't be my end I vow
I will push on to be my best
While you'll go south I'll go west
I don't need to walk far on this earth
To find how much I am worth
I am as powerful as I let myself be
So I will give you to the count of three
Head down south while I’ll go west
There is no time to rest
My destiny is in my hands
You will not stop my plans
For you cannot win
And I cannot lose
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2018
Above me is the wide blue sky
beneath my feet is a patch
of land sprawling far way.

Oh ask me not which direction
am I going this or that way?

East, west the north or the south?
The little bumblebee before
my eyes is flying every way!
Leila U Nov 2018
Tell me about the wicked witch of the west,

Tell me about her black pointy hat,

Her black screeching cat.

The night she flew thru the sky,

The night she touched the stars and danced for the moon,

Her dance a gift and a goodbye.

Tell me more about the wicked witch of the west,

Tell me about her auburn hair as it turned to dust,

Her angel voice, her last scream through the air it ******,

Tell me about her godly form in the flame, her last words whispered

A deep cut through our chest.

Tell me more about my sister,

Tell me about the Wicked Witch of the West.
Leonardo Tonini Sep 2018
You can’t say that the sky is clear today,
its colour isn’t the one of the Wisteria either
and the golden light (which is intelligence)
comes from it as the background of one of the
Madonna with Child paintings by Duccio or Simone Martini.  
I can’t definitely say with certainty
that the sun melts  in the sea to the West,
(West/****) if you have never seen the sea.
The trembling singing of a bird fades
with the noisy traffic jam on the road.

*

POESIA 4:

Il cielo oggi non può dirsi limpido
e nemmeno che ha il colore del glicine
e che la luce d’oro (che è intelligenza)
scenda da esso come il fondo di una Madonna col Bambino
di Duccio o di Simone Martini.
Non posso certo affermare con sicurezza
che il sole si scioglie nel mare a occidente
(occidente/uccidente) se non hai mai visto il mare.
Il tremulo canto di un uccello si confonde
con il rumore del traffico sulla strada.
The last poem for the Luton Festival. If you have any suggestions on the translation, let me know.
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