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Nira Oct 2017
On Friday,  it was a rose
Intoxicating her with its smell
Playing with her weak heart
She was building her private hell
It's thorns pricked her fingers
Drawing blood as red as
The lipstick stain on his shirt
She was fooled again, alas

Yesterday he gave her a daisy
So simple and so dainty
She had never hated a flower more
A symbol of her naivety

He gave her a forget-me-not
Vibrant blue like his eyes
He planted it in her soul
Like another one of his lies
She would never forget him but
She was already fading from his mind
Like the forget-me-not dying
In a vase, after biding it's time

Sunday brought a tulip to her door
A symbol of their undying love, he said
Then why was he making out with
A redhead on their bed?

He got her a flower everyday
Perhaps apologies for his infidelity
But flowers can't fix everything
Flowers can't cure her jealousy
He got her a lily and an orchid
A sunflower and a bloom
But all she saw was the redhead
With the lavender perfume

How was he stupid enough to think
That flowers could fix everything?
Did he not know that her heart
Broke everytime he got her flowers?

Many more flowers came her way
She wanted it all to go away
Images of him and that redhead and these
Dead flowers would forever stay
Each dead flower was kept by her
In vases filled with cold water
A futile attempt to save their sinking ship
But they were deep underwater

Now he's gone, leaving these flowers
Vases containing dead bodies
He's gone, but what about her
Held on by memories?
Each flower was a pretty little lie
A blue eyed boy gifted to a girl
So many flowers died for them
But in the end he left her

-n.g.
Grant Dickson Oct 2017
You see me Hurrying and scurrying
Gathering my food cautiously,
Looking around constantly worrying
Sneaking around precociously.

Weaving; bobbing, always dodging
Bushy tailed little scavenger I am,
So may despise me as I dwell in their lodging
But all I want is a home so don't give a dam.

Climbing my tree like a famous mountaineer
Old and young will wave or sit and say hello,
Quickly I think it's time to evacuate from here
The all clear I see and again on the ground I go.

Fluffy and Grey sometimes even Red
Speeding around among the leaves,
Time to nest and put my children to bed
Until once more the summer itself retrieves.

Grant Dickson 04/09/2017

This poem was inspired by a Squirrel
This poem was inspired by one of my vocal tutors who had posted a you tube blog and was sat in her car when she suddenly saw a Squirrel and proceeded to wave at it and say hello.
Blah blah Sep 2017
Even if you're not here,
Even if we're not in contact,
Even if its been a long time that i saw you,
Even on the days i'm angryand bitter,
Even when nothing is fine and life's a mess.
Even if my hopes are gone and my faith's fading away, slowly and slowly.
I'll still choose to be in love with you.
I'll breath deeply and slowly,
Praying for you,
Willing all my love to follow you where ever you go.
I'll love you forevermore.
Rks Aug 2017
Your twisted words,
Smoothy slipped off of your mouth,

Your pale face, I wanted to paint
With the sunrise, you found in my eyes

Red lights, empty streets
Grey sky, I am coming to you to please
Stay with me, now I fear these chaos
In my mind, they still play your role

Stop stringing me along, I can't bear it anymore
Blame my behaviour but I still love your heart

I'm trip-tripping in the lost state of my mind,
Need you to heal these scars,
you left on my arms

Sweet, must be the taste was, of my pain
That you always came and gave another to blame
My soul, for it always let you in

All these years,
I always prayed for you to change
But every season, you stayed the same
and I could not scream at your cruel self,

Tragic that I injected you in my veins twice,
My skin now burns, it hurts like hell
but my body still loves the pain,

Come again and explore this dark place,
I'm no longer me,
I can't haunt you anymore. -Rks
@thes.khel on IG
Davneet kaur Jul 2017
She doesn't own a fighter's body
Neither does she carry weapons
But the thing they have in common
Is... She has a fighter's heart
She fights for her daily bread
The world is her battlefield
She's a lionesses well challenged
Her battle is internal
Between her soul and her body
She chooses to work than to beg
The bread she earns is her trophy
Blah blah Jun 2017
Each step forward, I found his ego winning over my love.
Maybe we'll meet somewhere in oblivion. Parallel lines never intersect in real world.
Babra Shafiqi Apr 2017
I asked a puzzled Moth
Rather begged it,
To set its wings
on my skin.
To rest its legs
on my bones.
For a much brighter light,
-more than the moon-
-more than a flame-
Shines within.
©Babra Shafiqi
She was a poet of words entwined,

A wild muse, in a tamed domain,

Eyes closed, she plunged into her world of words,

Floating through fantasy,

She wrote of a truth so loud, you cannot ignore,

Scratching the smooth white surface with her pen,

She scrawled memories that can never be erased,

Her lips mouthed the words she yearned to speak,

She wondered how it was to hear her voice recite,

Her pen spilled words of sorcery, like that of a serenade.

In a gloomy world, she painted in screaming colour,

She wove words like a cocoon that provided warmth,

The hidden side of her craved darkness, away from the light,

A home it was, where she conquered her inhibition,

She danced in an enchanted grove, away from the prying eyes,

Her ink ran effortlessly across the pages giving life to words,

They found solace on a book she refused to show,

Why? They wondered, she laughed,

It was an escape after all,

From the universe’s mad circus of life.
Nothing that happens in life
is by mistake or default,
It is a conscious decision
that one chooses to endure
(whether good or bad)
and regardless of the outcome,
Always look forward to the fact
that there is always something
that is meant to come of it.
Read
what I write,
to understand my
thoughts & feelings.
The key to understanding most poets is to read what they have written, with the intention to gain an understanding into what is playing out in their mental space.
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