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 Jun 2015 Urmila
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Muted Rain
 Jun 2015 Urmila
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Memories of a steady rhythm
The rain's heartbeat on the roof
Seems like another world
wonder who's sleeping under that roof?
Do they listen to the rain like I did?

Do they stare at the ceiling?
Taking off on flights of fancy
From that cosy little room
Dreaming lofty dreams  
Dozing off to the rain's heartbeat

How can four walls mean so much?
My mind goes back there often
And struggles to come out
The memories are a whirlpool
That grips me in it's spin

In this concrete jungle
You only know it's raining
When that glazed window gets wet
The soundless muted rain seems dead
And just falls without a reason

I'm waiting for the day
When I'll build my tin-roofed house
I'll bring the rain back to life
I'll take my flights of fancy
To my dreams I will return
 Jun 2015 Urmila
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Even though we're worlds apart
Even though I think you're too crazy
I still find myself smiling at you on the telly
Laughing your heart out over the silliest things

I never know what colour your hair nor nails will be
The tight slacks and nose-ring you love so much
I would certainly curl my lips and pull a frown  
When I Contrast those with my shirt and tie

Your love for life just shines through
One look at you and the world's a nicer place
It's people like you who make others smile
That deserve to be happy contented and blessed

What I see is what you show the world
I don't know what goes on behind the lights
I don't know how you are when you're alone
I don't know if you ever carry a surly look

I sometimes think it would be nice to see you
Without the leggings, the painted nails, the crazy hair
But then I also think I don't want to
So I can always smile when I see you :)
 Jun 2015 Urmila
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Memories of images frozen in time,
We were only seventeen;
An involuntary smile creeps in,
Just the thought of You...

That smile forever etched,
That sudden turn of the head,
That angry sullen look,
Priceless moments...

That voice is all too familiar;
I still hear it in My dreams,
Whispering sweet nothings,
Bittersweet memories...

The best of memories remain,
That only a day like today can bring.
Time and age doesn't change a thing!
*Just a thought of you...
 Jun 2015 Urmila
axr
I have seen him
inside and out
Scanning every being around him,
pacing nervously and cracking a joke to lighten the mood.
But he posseses fire
Lifting him upwards
He can tear the pages of heaven
and I have seen his eyes,
filled with desire,
they are brown with a streak of fire
Not a poem
 Jun 2015 Urmila
J Valle
Facade
 Jun 2015 Urmila
J Valle
This pride tastes sour,
and the dignity bittersweet,
and all I can taste
is your lips touching mine.

All I can feel is
our skin so tight together and,
your voice saying
our hands fitted perfectly.

Where are they now?
I can't even recognize
myself without you
or trust the decisions I made
when I was high
with your smell.

It is like a facade that
has fallen  and,
I'm staring at the
same black wall, I
thought had left, but
in fact it never left.

It wasn't real
and yet
this broken heart, is
killing me
though.
Why is the primal
question.

This was written one
week primary
to the real
encounter
:

Language difference
enables my poignant
ponderings to
hide among
pink puffy tonality
of your beloved
mother's tongue. To
dwelve smooth and
constructively
conducted within
your howlin'
domesticated
vowels. I so
become wonder
writer smitten
softly,
touched
by pleasant words
of other writers.
Not suffering.
As I do
in my
original
vaccinity
of no
distance.
Clouds and thunder
collapse into my
deepest core. Tearing
me there at non
acceptance. I tear my
poems. And throw them
into the abyss. Of no re
turnin'.
My position as a writer regarding the language difference in which my poems are created.

My poems are alive creatures, my 'virtual' little me~s, peculiar  flowerin' beings. I'm proud of them! Most of the time. Within the act of writing we (writers). . . discover magical worlds fulfiled with wonderment.

Insight, inspiration and creativity flow ceaselessly at that moments.

This poem ~"Thank you stranger" ~ is about being more accepted and appreciated by 'strangers' than in my
homeland by poets there.. It makes me sad that I  ~ "can write better" in foreign language than in my beloved mother's tongue... It's just their opinion! I know! I know!!! Yet

I deleted so many of my poems, being dissapointed by their ignorance, sometimes considering myself not to be enough..
Impulsive decisions are regretable! I have missed dearly some of my old poems. . . tearing them, deleting them for ever.

Thank you poets for all the support!
Love and blessings from me! IS:)<3
 Jun 2015 Urmila
Chris
~
“Rise this early morn with me,
so your beauty I may see”
~
My morning is perfect,
the sky crystal clear
A bright sun is shining,
soft breezes I hear

Flowers are blooming,
midst glistening dew
My morning is perfect,
my morning is you
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