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Show not their thinnest trace
let the words wear a happy face
how harsh may be the day’s living
hide the tears and broken wing!

Write me one sunshine poem
for my day dwindling in burning flame
needs your ink to see me through
by words beaming with lights of you!*

(Poem by Pradip Url : http://hellopoetry.com/poem/856652/write-me-one/)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Some where far my friend pleads
Masked their pain from sight to heed
Faking a smile they'll cheer others
Encouraging and urging, through their tears

So my heart goes out to them
I can't solve their primal needs
But my little light within me
Shine out as a beacon's beam

Friend dearest I plead
Troubles may try you
But you are bigger than these
Don't forget the gift you hold
Your sweet words are someone's world
Your pain may blind your eyes
But we are standing nearby

Though far away we may seem
Together like Sunshine we shall beam
The light within shall chase the gloom
Rivers of Love together shall stream.*
(Towards you!)

Million Hugs!
This one is for your Pradip in response to your poem.  http://hellopoetry.com/poem/856652/write-me-one/

Poor attempt, but I tried
Hope this cheers you
I may not be the sunshine, but I'd gladly Twinkle my little light!
Your happiness is all that matters.
My poetry *****



I’m so tired of writing

My fingers are sore

My poetry *****

I’m becoming a bore



Sticking a verse

In front of your face

Oozing with love

All over the place



Creamsicle colors

Metaphors thick

Wasting your time

Making you sick



Finding a title

Spending the time

Just like this poem

Something to rhyme



Or it could be free-verse…

Drifting on metallic clouds in copper spoons

dreaming in patterns of silhouette shadows

and my foot falls asleep



Maybe a Senryu



Read at your own risk

Dumb crap being written here

***** bags needed



Perhaps a Haiku



Softly floats the bird

Atop morning glory skies

**** thing **** on me



Or a Tanka, a Sonnet

A Villanelle or an Assterring

The last one is nothing

I made up the **** thing



So you see I’m no poet

Least not anymore

For what you are seeing

Is what you abhor



And I’m not complaining

Not here on this screen

My pen is on empty

I’m ready to leave



I’m so tired of writing

My fingers are sore

My poetry *****

I’m becoming a bore
If I were ever to chance upon, a real life Genie
and being ever so kind, he granted me wishes freely
I wouldn't waste any time, and ask him quite loudly
'Give me a Flying Carpet, and make the sky cloudy!'

Astride my bed with wings, I would swiftly reach the sky
and dive through the clouds like through butter a hot knife
feeling the wind in my hair, laughing with unbridled glee
as a soaring eagle feels in the air, light, and free

Next I'd become a Lion, to roar and roam the jungles deep
Growling and tearing into poachers, and savoring the meat
I would rule all the mighty creatures, as their rightful king
and all the forest's denizens would my praises sing

Soon after I would ask for a ship, and a crew of souls brave
I would visit all lands afar, upon my Master of waves
without a single glance behind and not a spot of bother
I would see and feel and taste all the world has to offer

From above I'd go beneath, diving as a blue whale
The murky depths of the oceans whistling past my tail
All the wondrous sea dwellers, and all the buried wonders
would become a part of my enchanting under sea tale

Last of all I'd ask the genie, to build with his hand
a nation built for all the poor orphans of every land
where they eat and drink and make much merriment
and also study, play, and sleep with gladness in them
Magic, as alluring as it is impossible
***
Like a swallow dashes in the sky
My thoughts swoop in the speed of light.
So very hard to capture them
Just let them fly in the height.
***
When the moon sings its lullaby
In the mystic universe
It is a recreation for the ears.
What I see is not what you see
But I love you still so deep.
I know you don't hear the moon
I know thay you don't see its mystery
But I do not care
I would still love you
Even if the moon was not there.
 Aug 2014 The Master Quibbler
AJ
No one will play you like I did,
Honey bee.
You're fine, but you used to be great.
Broken skin and tattered shields;
Frozen souls wander a fiery battlefield.
One with human senses notices the pain,
Stops to the side and pushes off the dust and grain.
A warlord who is hurt himself is doing this!
I reach with my hand only to have it torn off my limb.
You are a necrotic soul:
Blissfully decaying, alone and cold.
Hi
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