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Wild flowers dancing
in my fields
I no longer sway,


No more long flowery dresses
Or lilac perfume
scents.

I lie still.

I no longer drive
The untouched roads
Paved with gold.

I no longer sway.
I no longer move at any distant
Beat. I no longer move
At any sensation in my feet.

Wild flowers dance

in my fields
I lie still.
Silver lining
Antique finding
Intertwined fingers
Browsing eyes

Indoor maze
Shifted gaze
Can't see all
Noticing some

Vintage room
Old spittoon
Strolling past
Items forgotten

Mirror reflects
Dust collects
We evlove
But never change
 Jan 2022 Emmanuel Phakathi
Sadia
It is not always possible to live in black and white. Colors must be felt.
~
A no-man's land,
ablaze in scarlet

A no-man's land,
the blood and the bones of men

The more who died,
the more they thrived

A no-man's land,
flowered along the banks
from which the dead drank,
to forget their former existence,
when they were singing
in the lulls

A no-man's land,
offering a touch
of Heaven in Hell

~
Losing you
is a bitter taste
on my lips.
And I was a child
who had to learn
to know
there was a taste
other than
sweetness.
Indonesia, 9th January 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
You are so Loved and wanted , and cherished.
By the only True Savior that exist everywhere.
He wants you to not only see his love here.
But to feel it in the deepest part of your heart.
He really wants to bless you and care for you.
He wants to hold you where you are hurting too.
He wants to touch your heart, your life and heal you.
He really wants you to know that you truly are loved.
That you are really special he wants to heal you.
From your hurt, your addiction, and your sorrows too.
"His old father might be domineering, cruel and incisive", she opined
As she applied pain reliever on the fresh wounds of the limp body of that innocent infant
"but...", she finished with bleak content
More to herself
"Am I guilty of my grievous injuries if I whole- heartedly trusted his false claims and fat lies?"

I am time, the testimony of gritty ordeals of billions of the souls of the feminine receptive energy ...
Time  to have another drink
This ruddy boats about to sink
The poets dream
Is to gaze in wonderment at fields unseen
and to be inspired by what he has seen,
in every rain drop ,
and tear that departs ,
inspired by a falling heart.
In every rock that blocks our way,
to more happier and forfilling days
to become more jagged and rough then we were before ,
yet pure .

And as that field of green grows white with snow and with every starry night ,
that violates nature’s vibrant glow
that one day soon
It might. Become ripened by the rains and sun
blossom and become fruitful
again. as one.
Keep breaking your heart until it opens!
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