Silence
is sound
that comes between
sounds

It moves
upon the waters
between the waves
and is good

Do you hear it?

My dear,
they say that a poem is a work of art.
they say that It is emotion,
pouring from your bleeding heart.
and I find that to be quite true,
but not every emotion is happiness anew.
the sadness the anger and pain and fear,
they each have a place to reside in here.
for such raw emotion does set the tide
for the torrent of words
that in a poem, does reside.

Hello.
I am the trending poem.                                                            ­            
         you see me and I make you feel alive
                                             so you like me and re-post me
                                                              ­    then you leave me alone to die.
Hello,
I am your forgotten lines.
             you created me with a careful love
                                                          an­d decisive rhymes
                                      and then to the bottom of your page I'm shoved.
Hello
I am forgotten, alone and unloved
                           a faded smile a broken dove
                                               I once was beautiful, touching.
                                                       ­   now, I've been replaced, I'm nothing.

She sat there, beside the vintage window
Writing her heart, her eyes had that glow
To kiss the sun bright, her muscles curved right
To have a smile so bright, like a moon at night
Her hands – the Morpheus creation
They hugged right on the pen, she was God’s incarnation
Those eyes, wild like a fire, like a lion
Like chaos over horizon
Her skin, so soft, so dainty, glistening all life
Brought me back to heaven, alone; that hurt like knife
She was a butterfly, all bellé and elegant
She came, gave me life, I became her servant
But she was a butterfly
Never stayed for a while
She loved, was magical
And then she left like a miracle
I still miss her, sitting here beside vintage window
She was all I had, she gave me a flow
But never had I chance to tell her
That I love her, that I want her
That she’s mine butterfly, not God’s
As he claims, to steal her
But none can do, because mine heart is her
Because I can’t her go, I’ll be her Orion
Will create chaos over horizon

20:50
28 October 2016