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On  watching  Indian Polity
Such was my country twenty-one Summers ago
In a starry night I ,with my wife Prema young
Walked along the road of midnight Mysore slow
As snow veil  clad chilling  breeze rippled along.
No ****** , drunkard, rowdy, as hyenas  did draw
No clique with camera   to strip or **** did throng
An auto -driver so friendly took us  to a lodge; so
Gladly with son Sudev  we enjoyed Dassara song .
          
Now, in every city , I fancy , Sahasralinga’s attacks
From Bars with bars such barbarians may pounce
As executive dread  such law-breakers to  punish.
Political aspirants  languid sit in and pronounce
In Parliament to protect  the culprits  from barracks
Deceiving  democrats  and putting them in anguish.
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Note: Prema: name of wife; Sudev: name of baby(son). Sahasralinga: nickname of Indra /Devendra.(King of Devas who live in luxury. Parliament: the legislative building. Mysore: the city in  Karnataka,India former capital of Mysore kings. Dassara:a  state festival in Karnataka,
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If my thoughts and dreams can come to life
They'd be brought back in the shape of you
If my love can be a force of nature
It'd be the oxygen pumping through your lungs
It'd be the light in your eyes that once was
If I could have one wish granted
It'd be to have you back
Fearless and breathing
Copyright under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
2017
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Here's a tale of my childhood toy,
A hand knitted ******* boy,
His name was Little Black *****,
Politically incorrect, you know,
Thought police would have fun,
For me, he was toy number one,
But then,  I gave him away,
A gift of love, one day,
For my little cousin, a gift,
Gollies are now cool, get my drift?
When old things become new again, eh!
Maybe I'll knit a ******* today!!
Feedback welcome!!!
I finally got it right you see, he uttered with a smile
I'm finally back to where I was when I just a child
I spent my years pretending every move I made was right
until I faced reality without a place to hide
in baring what I'd covered up I breathed my very first
and realized I never lost my precious little girls
they walked with me through darkness, stayed together when I broke
reminded me the light was on whenever I went home
my hands were always counting down my fingers to a fist
and I would let the anger have its way because of this
but countless be my sorries as my character's remade
a father to his children says, I need you every day
sisterhood to fatherhood.
In January I felt so free
Wanting to explore vast infinity

In February I started school
Ditching classes like any fool

In March I was at work and met you
A man with brown eyes and a gaze so blue

In April my heart did sing
With all the love you did bring

In May I felt brand new
******* for the first time in front of you

In June I was so uneasy
Fearing that you'd up and leave me

In July you ended it all
Telling me you'd never call

In August I wept through the season
Feeling like my life had no reason

In September I regained my strength
Deciding to cut my depression's length

In October we met again
Darkness in your eyes did reign

In November you tried to play with me
But your false words didn't drown me in misery

In December you told me about your cheating
When you found your heart wounded and bleeding
Shared on Hello Poetry on July 25, 2016
Copywrite under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
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I have gone on days
Stumbling down alleyways
Rummaging the ground to find
Any footprints you have left behind
To illuminate this path I've taken
And ease the pain of a love forsaken
Shared on Hello Poetry on August 2, 2016
Copyright © 2016Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
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Don't you see me?
Broken down,
Shatter's flooding the open ground.
Don't you know?
Can't you see?
That I only wish to be free,
Free from this pain,
Free from this world,
Free from this lost and lonely girl?
That's the thing.
I want to live,
Not to die,
At the cost of that one guy,
That one guy who told me he'd stay here with me,
That one guy who I love,
That one guy I believed.
He isn't wrong,
He isn't the one who left me abandoned,
Who left me never singing another love song,
I wish with all my  heart I could see him,
See us never falling apart,
Yet that's a little girl's dream,
The world insists I grow,
I grow till I rip the seam...
I know now, I must be strong,
Even though I know it's so very wrong,
I love him more than the sun,
The sun that holds me,
Even though my days seem done,
I want him back,
Yet that dream seems to lack,
The reality, the truth...
Missing him is worse than dying,
Worse than fire, Worse than crying,
I say my goodbye, with countless tears in my eyes,
And now I fear that I may never live with another tear,
Let alone another fear, for now I'm dead, gone and past,
Cause depression is long, and is too strong to not last...
We lived so long
thinking you were
the body of my thoughts

The beauty mark that I
Loved and saw
As the best part of me

But you were malignant
When I showed you
In the light to the world

I turned you into
An ordinary freckle
That I wear upon my body

The day I decided
You'd be nothing more
Than a blemish in my memory
Shared on Hello Poetry on July 22, 2016
Copyright © 2016 Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
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 Jul 2016 Vaishnavi Jain
AtlJorj
Red
 Jul 2016 Vaishnavi Jain
AtlJorj
Red
Red is unique.
Red is love,
But also anger.
It's passion.
I've dyed my hair red
5 times and my father says,
"You're being fake."
I am a force to be reckoned with,
I do not answer to fake
Red is unique and he doesn't see this.
You can't make purple a natural color for hair
And you can't make brown an unnatural color
But you can soak me in ginger
And make me a glorious fire truck
Let me will rain on others.
When I started wearing makeup
It was a passion I couldn't afford
So I ignored it.
I would hide in the bathrooms though with the few things
I could buy myself
And I'd mock my Father.
Red lipstick made me a *****.
I didn't wear it in public,
But on that bathroom floor I flaunted it.
Pink didn't look right on me
And purple made my teeth look yellow.
Red was bold though.
No one misses red lipstick,
Not even on an unfamiliar face.
Red's not my favorite color
Or anything.
But everything I do will always be red.
Red will hold my hate.
Red will show my compassion for anyone who was kind
And lent more than a judging glance
I am a thousand different waivering things,
But red will always be me.

— The End —