I'd  love to travel
But only
visit the rainforests
A different world
One without technical items
the only thing I like to take
My camera to capture
The wonder of life
a life so rich and free
The beauty of creation
One I never
Perhaps will see.
Oh how I wish
my dream would
come true
to explore
Theses avenues

No houses or traffic shops schools etc
Factory. ....No electric. ..
Janae 19h

I smile
nose crinkled
skin wrinkle
make my eyes
and teeth
twinkle.

The sun is captivated by the moon's lunar fire
The moon is bewitched by the sun's blazing spears
While the moon sees the human soul, she aspires
To pierce through the day without any fears.

But she knows her duties, and she lights the tides
While her counterpart shines with a glorious touch
But unlike the sun, in her, the humans confide
Feeling loved by them, their secrets - her crutch

Unlike stillness of the moon, the sunlight can't be outrun
All he can do is stare and glare and comes, an eclipsing tune
So close, she was. Smiling and calm, the moon embraced her sun
So full of glee, he chuckled as the sun reached for his moon

I just let the words flow out of my head. And I transferred it from my notebook to the here.

There is a beauty
The colours change and leaves fall
Beautiful autumn

Trees and plant of green
The leaves turn orange and brown
And wilting flowers

There is a beauty
Only seen in autumn wind
And beauty in death

Haikus from my journal. There is a beauty that all seasons have. Autumn's beauty is in the colours of death

i am a facade of screaming colors
blue masks my fears
gold hides my insecurities
red covers the scars
i decorate myself -
fancy costumes
bright colors -
but my tongue strikes as hard
as the whip in my hand
and my fist holds fire
but the ice in my glare -
it will destroy you
much faster than my weapons
my eyes see your soul
and they see your secrets
you will be frozen in your lies
and i will stand victorious

As the metaphor goes,
people are like books.

Each hold a story with
pages beyond pages of
selective words and
twisting ink.

Within those stories are
tales ten times as much.
Tales that have changed the ending
for the better or worse.

Though it may be selfish and intruding,
I wish to read them all.

The exuberance,
the fall,
the bittersweet,
human lives are much more
interesting and dramatic than
meets the eye.

I deduce from faces of old and young
who both face must face same fate.

I read generations of dreams
in the tiny pupil of an eye.

Millions and trillions
of stories,
yet so little untold.
So little of the ones that would
impact the world with such great force.

Would it be so idealistic
to wish to tell them all?

If given the chance, may I perhaps,
peek into your significant story?

May I perhaps
share it with the world?

It's up to the writer to decide
to have their stories
let out to society's eye
or
buried in the silent voices,
forever lost and untold.

Here I will wait,
writing and scrawling
tales like yours.

This was made on the spot without any plan, so pardon me if there are any mistakes, awkward flow, or difference of usual style. This poem was less of a poem and more of a poetic announcement. I am currently still tweeking on my main work, which is a story-based poem. It's dragging along much more than I presumed, so please wait for me as I finish that! I hope you enjoyed this fill-in.
LJ Chaplin Jul 17

I feel at peace when the lights go out,
Rooms grow darker,
Walls blacked out like permanent marker,
Senses become sharper,
I have never felt calmer.

In the arms of the night I ask for dominion at its feet,
I become submissive,
My mind is less aggressive,
My heartbeat becomes percussive,
I find comfort in being passive.

I dream of drowning in an ocean of moonlight,
A whitewash tide that purifies sin,
Where unknown lovers dive right in,
Cleansed by light that's paper thin,
And sink into an abyss of divine origin.

© L.J. Chaplin
Zoë Marie Jul 13

And in poems
The little bird finally
Sees the door of her cage
But chooses to stay

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