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Star Jul 2020
Who is this girl that twirls around at twilight
under the crescent moonlight and the fading sun?

With tears running down her face,
she holds an angelic smile upon her face.

What does she see?
What does she hear? and
What does she feel?

Black feathers begin to fall,
circling around the ruffles of her black dress,
landing by her bare-feet.

Who is this girl
and why does she turn at this hour?
What has she gained? and what has she lost?
Only time will tell,

yet here I am feeling found
while being lost in her day-spring eyes.
Wrote this poem the other day and remembered how I haven't posted here in a very long time. Tell me what you think!
Jenish Jul 2020
I wish to be the gentle breeze
Sweeping tearful eyes
Of the weary midday flower.
Or to be the horrid shadow
Casting fearful darkness
For a passer-by to rest.
A rippling river of white
I wish to be the one
Drenching thirst of arid earth.
Or to be a dancing wave
Of the mighty sea
Playing with a child.
A guild of fleeting clouds
Hiding splendid sun
For a homeless soul
Or the canopy of green
Thwarting rain for a home
I wish to be the one.
I wish to be a cresset
Guiding glimpse of hope
In the prosaic paths of pangs
Or to be a firefly
In the dim toilsome journey
Of a soul to his divine home.
Z Jul 2020
You're a fallen
Not an angel from heaven
But a lover from the stars
Given to me
Like a wish come true
Raven Woodfort Jul 2020
Magic Flowers

There's a bug in the house
and a big one too;
has our tummies curl up
and us running to the loo.

I wish I had flowers -
magic ones of course -
then I'd brew us a tea
that'd shoot the bug out the door.

I read so much of herbs
that can heal anything;
flu, pox, diarrhoea,
broken spine, lost limb...

But they grow in deep woods
where sunrays don't touch the floor,
and the books don't speak of maps
or if they exist (anymore).

So till the enchanted woods are found
I'll stay safe at home,
and drink rooibos tea with plenty o' honey
and write another poem.
When a poet is sick...

Inktober 2019
Coleen Mzarriz Jul 2020
I.

Sleeping Siren,
sing me to sleep
a lovely maiden
help me shift,
in my daydreams
to hear his song — that slips away from his rims.

II.

Sleeping Siren,
wake your spirit
for only your song
can force me to waltz
in his daydreams — oh, to encounter him there!
lying down beneath the
shadowy sun
created by fogs;
gentle, like a cushion!
with his lips forging into a beam
oh, to visit him, Daydreaming Siren — wake up.

III.

“Oh, to be bewitched with magic filled
with air in love so keen.
Oh, to engross with fairies
twirling like a bathe bird.
Oh, wonderful, mysterious, mythical,
I am the
Daydreaming Siren,
hiss in the Waters
for I will respond.

IV.

I let myself sink into the broad ocean
and let the coolness rub my skin
for I am about to have him
the lullaby in my trance.
I locked my eyes
as I let the fairies
tune with their uncanny wand;
“Hope so bright, give her request
feels so strong, grant her a peck
love so keen, serenade her to hallucinate.

V.

Sing me to sleep.
I will greet you in the Parallel
of my dreams bent by air
in love, so eager.
Await me there
for I will slumber a little without slowing
later I will see you
when I awake
'Tis now the time
of Spring
fare thee,
ne'er forget me.

For I will close my eyes without a slight dulling.
Oh sleeping siren, wake up and sing me to sleep! 'tis now the time to waltz in his dreams! with the fairies whirling like a swimming bird, I call to you, a beautiful maiden—I whistle into the Waters!
Poetic T Jul 2020
She plucked his fingernails
            gently out,

                 he loves me,

                                  He
                             loves
                        me

not..

The pollen of love filtered from
            everyone discarded..

Pulses raised with
each one
           harvested.

The dander was sodden,
               but still she needed to
know..

Does he love me, does he not...

And after every petal was gently
                                        discarded,

You thought that the only way
                 to no was to cut the stem..

Looking to his surroundings,
            a jar of nails...

How many had been planted here
                                               before..

Like a daffodil popping off,
                        she was out cold..

He'd been like a seed floating in the air,
       what some would catch to place a wish.
                          his was to land upon her jaw.

                                              He fell,
the roots that bonded him fallen.
            And he ran out in to the wilderness.

Floating in and out of consciousness,
                                       but he was free..
Raven Blue Jul 2020
The little bird wanted to fly;
But an accident occurred and it cried.
It got shotted and can't fly.
It nearly died and wanted to say goodbye.
It's dream was to soar high in the sky.
Will the little bird give up on its dream and say goodbye?
Or will it give all its best to soar high and make it's dream come true to life?
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