"coronating" poems
My smile
Once lost her beam.
To vices , the vicious and vile.
Her crown
Fell down
At once,to drown
Deep in the ocean blue
My lips expelled
Dangers and woes.
My heart
Like my face spelt 'red'.
Words weighed void, equating emptiness.
Darkness
Darkened darkness.
Wars
Rumoured wars
Could not revive her.
Lost in the dust...
My smile
Had no chance of survival
Till I rose
To praise the beauty
Of the morning sun.
It's scattered reflection on and on.
To see
The wetness underneath my feet
An evidence
Of the rain being
Blessings from
A planet of many waters.
To hear
The sweet tweeting
Of little birds.
To see the wind swaying the heads of the trees
The beautiful petals of an emerging flower.
To behold
The fluffy royals
Floating in the skies.
The gorgeous setting
Of the morning
Into noon.
Then my crown
Resurrected
Banished, from the bottom
Of the sea.
Re-coronating my smile
No longer exiled to drown.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 7:05 AM UTC
Star
It
Is
Afar
The
Herald
That it brings
Unequaled
For the king of kings
The son of God
And foretold son of man
Is now besought
In a hovel, born in Bethlehem
He will heal the sick
And give life to the living and dead
He wills to pick deaths crown
From our heads coronating us in righteousness
Bearing the thorns upon himself
To a death on a tree, that beneath our tree we can share this gift
We follow, He whom death could only borrow
The broken
Find healing
So wise men
Still seek Him
To understand
God's gift to man
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
I want life to be unchanging,
I want to accurately refer to it as my amaranthine companion.
I am aware that i'd be coronating a royal of dullness, but I would also have annihilated the wretched ghoul of tragedy.
This would of course empty the afterlife,
All graves would be vacant.
Earth will be heavily burdened. I am now afraid of the great purge.
I do not know what to wish for.
I am one to prosper in darkness, yet I also thirst to bask in light. My heart loves both.
I cannot be the one to change what is already fixed, I do not wish to alter what has already been written centuries past.
I only ramble in an abyss of what if I could?
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
You and I can we feel
The morning mist hand in hand
Can we traverse the silent speak
That we never had
I’ll sprawl my lips on your neck
Bite the hints
Of perfume after taste
Muddled with your skin
See your pores erupt
The trickling down of the mythic mead
From your rivers, deep within
Delve in the night of your groin
All the churning
Wonder where it’s coming from
With my magic fingers trace your breast
Ask them what they are yearning for.
Spinning in the spirals of ecstasy
In the deep mystical realm of transcendence
Feel the fingers slowing sliding slithery in my sensuous curves
Coronating me in the kingdom of pleasure
Senses blur , spinning and spinning in the widening gyre of desire
Reaching the crescendo of bliss
Tasting my bodyscape and detonating the fuses lurking all over
Phallus stroking, fondling, searching in the depths of my cave for the shrine
Nuzzling and rubbing the fuses again... and again...again... and again rapidly, with urgency, with haste, seeping in and out of the precious mount in a bull's exigency
Exploding in the zenith of rapture.
Ahhhhh....
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC