"formal" poems
An innovative, creative, calm serenity
A spirit of togetherness and humanism
A patient, peaceful, joyful emotion
Independence
Different shades of Turquoise
A new, fresh, hopeful place of rest
Healing
Natural
Growth and development
Success
Vitality
A joyful, happy warming effect
Energetic
Sunshine
Arousal of cheerful feelings and freshness
Great mental stimulant
A classy, luxury glitz of glamour
A confident, generous, self-work
A victorious , royal, happy-to-go-look
An abundant, shiny, excess extrovert
Sophisticated
Written By; Esther Esuga
An innovative, creative, calm serenity
A spirit of togetherness and humanism
A patient, peaceful, joyful emotion
Independence
Different shades of Turquoise
A new, fresh, hopeful place of rest
Healing
Natural
Growth and development
Success
Vitality
A joyful, happy warming effect
Energetic
Sunshine
Arousal of cheerful feelings and freshness
Great mental stimulant
A classy, luxury glitz of glamour
A confident, generous, self-work
A victorious , royal, happy-to-go-look
An abundant, shiny, excess extrovert
Sophisticated
Written By; Esther Esuga
An innovative, creative, calm serenity
A spirit of togetherness and humanism
A patient, peaceful, joyful emotion
Independence
Different shades of Turquoise
A new, fresh, hopeful place of rest
Healing
Natural
Growth and development
Success
Vitality
A joyful, happy warming effect
Energetic
Sunshine
Arousal of cheerful feelings and freshness
Great mental stimulant
A classy, luxury glitz of glamour
A confident, generous, self-work
A victorious , royal, happy-to-go-look
An abundant, shiny, excess extrovert
Sophisticated
Written By; Esther Esuga
A sweet , young , pretty , subtle-charm
A girly, warm, bright sense of appeal
A cute, Fun, attractive, soft touch of feminity
A spark of warmth and tenderness with friends and family
An unconditional love, friendship and care.
An elegant pink
A royal, noble, selfless form of leadership
An enlightened, balanced state of maturity
A mixture of the feminine and masculine energies
An alluring, luxury of mystic fantasy
A beautiful, calm , calculated sense of wisdom
A color of heat, love, power and hot-passion
A vibrant, provoking, brave sense of will power
A seductive, romantic list of appetite
An attention grabbing, sharp rhythm of excitement
A color of signs
A calm, loyal, productive and conservative effect on humanity
A strong connection with masculinity
A rich, hopeful, desiring-lucky-go charm
A color of intuition and the sixth sense
Mostly heavenly and soothing to the mind and body
A friendly, stable , sincere, expertise of understanding
A cheerful, creative,bright-sunshine
A warm, happy, joyful, energetic summer
A spirit of optimism and success
Shades of orange
Angelic
A meek, peaceful note of simplicity
Pure, heavenly and gentle
An innocent, good act of precision
Positive
A powerful, bold, confident elegance
Wealth
A formal, classy sense of sophistication
Sexuality
Proudly black and beautiful
A color that absorbs
A strong, honest form of endurance
A stable, warm, comfortable, sense of maturity
A friendly note of earthly attitude
A bond with earth and its nature
A mediator between black and white
A neutral, reserved and modest aura
A solid, elegant form of maturity
A reliable, formal dignified class
A shiny, wealthy glitz of glamour
A modern sense of creativity
A gentle , graceful, kind touch of femininity
Sensitive
An innovative, creative, calm serenity
A spirit of togetherness and humanism
A patient, peaceful, joyful emotion
Independence
Different shades of Turquoise
A new, fresh, hopeful place of rest
Healing
Natural
Growth and development
Success
Vitality
A joyful, happy warming effect
Energetic
Sunshine
Arousal of cheerful feelings and freshness
Great mental stimulant
A classy, luxury glitz of glamour
A confident, generous, self-work
A victorious , royal, happy-to-go-look
An abundant, shiny, excess extrovert
Sophisticated
Written By; Esther Esuga
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls
Army bands prepare for march
(their trench members filling packs with canister and cane)
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle
Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms
Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues
Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly with a cold reflective stare
It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and sharp broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
are a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 8:33 PM UTC
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles
moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear
they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste
cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them*
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
the glory is fallen out of
the sky the last immortal
leaf
is
dead and the gold
year
a formal spasm
in the
dust
this is the passing of all shining things
therefore we also
blandly
into receptive
earth,O let
us
descend
take
shimmering wind
these fragile splendors from
us crumple them hide
them in thy breath drive
them in nothingness
for we
would sleep
this is the passing of all shining things
no lingering no backward-
wondering be unto
us O
soul,but straight
glad feet fearruining
and glorygirded
faces
lead us
into the
serious
steep
darkness
16.5k
Yes! I'm insecure
Coz I know what it is
to have loved and lost
When you give your everything
and you are left with nothing
Yes! I'm insecure
Coz I know what it is
When you give your best
and it isn't yet enough
Yes! I'm insecure
Coz I know what it is
When your all day conversations
turn to formal hi's and hellos
Yes! I'm insecure
Coz I know what it is
To see it slipping away
When everything perfect
turns astray
Yes! I'm insecure
not coz of lack of trust
But coz I know
it doesn't take time
for love to turn dust
Yes! I'm insecure
But you should be glad
Coz when I stop
It'll make you mad
And when you begin to get insecure
You'll know what it is
To love, to hold
And to know when to let go....
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
"What are you?" he asks. "I mean what are you mixed with?"
He does not mean for the question to be rude. He has never seen someone quite like me, and the question has been bouncing around in his head for at least 2 minutes. So he blurts it out.
"Jamaican, Chinese, and White," I tell the stranger. I smile politely and attempt to mask my discomfort.
He only looks more intrigued. He thinks I am odd, oddly beautiful. Like a rare bird he has found. Not a bird one would ever keep. Just something to look at in awe.
"What are you?" the test paper asks, though in a more formal way. "Please bubble your ethnicity." I hesitate. I think about bubbling 3 different races, but I just end up filling in the bubble that says "other".
"What are you?" I ask my mirror. "Are you a freak? Why don't you look like everyone else? Why do they stare at you?"
"You are not pretty," i tell my reflection. "You are just different. The kind of different that no one likes. The kind of different that scares and intimidates people."
My reflection pauses for a moment. She smiles with kind eyes, forgiving my insult.
"You are everything," she tells me. "You are the sun, the moon and everything in between. You are a scorching hot fire, yet you are cold spring water. You are good and bad. You are you and I am, too. But most of all, you are human. Just like anyone else.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
Two things I had never
asked for, not these things
not from you. Honour
and loyalty are pledges
oaths taken to one whom fealty
is owed, a king or master. Loyalty
and honour, not always given
willingly, freely. Honour and loyalty
are stiff, hard, formal words-
a debt you feel you must pay.
If this is how it is to be, know
your debts are paid, you are
absolved. I once had your love
and friendship, but in lieu of those
do not endeavor to fill this space
with what you think is necessary. Your honour
and loyalty, save, for those
more worthy, for those who want this
from you, for those who do not know
how infinitely more you are capable of.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
My dentist, at the time, was a woman,
a young woman,
an attractive young woman.
As she leaned very close above me,
busily engaged
in repairing my broken tooth,
I, laid back horizontal in the chair,
had nothing to look at but her face,
and more particularly, her eyes.
She, however, concentrating the whole time on my tooth,
was not considering
where I might be looking.
The task at last finished,
once again on my feet,
I noticed what I had not seen before.
My lovely young dentist
had put on some weight
just round the middle.
As I smiled at her
and put out my hand to hers
- in thanks or congratulation? -
she leaned towards me
and returned my smile
most charmingly.
What could I do?
A formal British handshake?
No! A small kiss on the cheek,
and then, in continental style,
another small kiss
on the other one,
a spontaneous, friendly gesture,
nothing more.
If in fact it had crossed my mind at that point
that it might be
a not altogether unpleasant experience
to take the average of the two kisses
I had planted on her cheeks,
and give her a third on the lips
that were now beautifully visible to me,
I resisted the inappropriate temptation,
so swiftly
I might not even have thought it at all.
Except that, on reflection, I probably did think it.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
Niacin formal chat night
She dont wanna hear about her grudges moving through the mud
In a crowded dinning hall
Shoves her platform sneakers between the path way
Locked ankles with the smite
You only ever bring in the neighbors dogs, if you only ever toss your cats in the trash
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
The flag, a white crescent and single star
on a field of crimson — kırmızı, not just 'red' —
tells of Islam. The men drinking beer and rakı
at pavement tables, even in Ramadan,
and the short-skirted, bare-armed girls,
parading with bare-faced confidence,
tell of other influences;
but at the appointed hour we hear the call to prayer
from the marble minaret, a slim finger
pointing to the sky beside shining domes
reflecting the vault of heaven.
At five a.m. we hear it faintly through hotel double-glazing,
or at sunset, as a peaceful accompaniment to the spectacle,
and we remember where we are.
But especially at the midday hour,
when the voice of the muezzin echoes
over noisy street or market,
and from another minaret and another
the duet becomes a trio, a quartet
of different melodies, out of tune
with each other but never discordant
(in these tones the word has no meaning),
the faithful are reminded, however busy they may be,
that their God requires something of them.
Then, entering the cool calm of the mosque,
entering the quiet forest of pillars,
feeling through the soles of our bare feet
marble polished by the tread
of generations of worshippers,
fine-grained wood,
the rich softness of crimson carpet,
we luxuriate in the textures as they combine
with the formal floral patterns of the tiles,
the ornate calligraphy of the inscriptions,
the rich colours of the glass,
and we realise that the builders of these mosques
knew what they were doing, so many years ago,
how peace can enter the soul
through the senses.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
You are the town and we are the clock.
We are the guardians of the gate in the rock.
The Two.
On your left and on your right
In the day and in the night,
We are watching you.
Wiser not to ask just what has occurred
To them who disobeyed our word;
To those
We were the whirlpool, we were the reef,
We were the formal nightmare, grief
And the unlucky rose.
Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words
When the ships from the islands laden with birds
Come in.
Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives:
The expansive moments of constricted lives
In the lighted inn.
But do not imagine we do not know
Nor that what you hide with such care won't show
At a glance.
Nothing is done, nothing is said,
But don't make the mistake of believing us dead:
I shouldn't dance.
We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall.
We've been watching you over the garden wall
For hours.
The sky is darkening like a stain,
Something is going to fall like rain
And it won't be flowers.
When the green field comes off like a lid
Revealing what was much better hid:
Unpleasant.
And look, behind you without a sound
The woods have come up and are standing round
In deadly crescent.
The bolt is sliding in its groove,
Outside the window is the black removers' van.
And now with sudden swift emergence
Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons
And the scissors man.
This might happen any day
So be careful what you say
Or do.
Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock,
Trim the garden, wind the clock,
Remember the Two.
6.7k
So many times
Whenever i got chance
In every circumstance
I expose my feelings
For her it's thrilling
She is normal
Even so formal
But i can't help myself
In such type of dealing!
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
Hello to the guy in the white polo
the formal black slacks
and polished black shoes
You could've noticed a little girl around
who is utterly attracted to you
You look at me every now and then
and I ignore those looks of yours
you don't know I'm secretly giddy
flattered, enthralled, enamored
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
I have fallen in love with the dress at my first sight of the dress. The chiffon fabric is very flowing and elegant. I love the dress! I would rate 100 scores for the dress and the customer service from MarieProm.
I received the dress in a few days. The dress length is fine when I wear the shoes with heels. The most beautiful part I like is transparent collar of the dress. It makes the dress special. Thank you for your effort.
I just bought the dress days ago for my wife! She is so excited to receive this gorgeous dress. It is said that the izidressbuy .com makes fabulous dresses with high quality fabrics，It fits me perfectly and it is everything thought it would be. And the shipment speed is amazing! Hoping to get it soon!
Arrived quickly and fitted perfectly... size chart was very accurate and true. The custom service girl told me their production team has improved the fabric on this dress by choosing a kind of new lace fabric. Yes it really is! I love sooooo much the fabric and whole version of this little white dress!The dress was everything I imagined.
The details of the dress were exactly like the picture. I ordered the dress in my normal size and it fits perfectly. The dress took approximately 2 weeks to arrive after I purchased it. The customer service team at izidressbuy was very helpful and worked really hard to have my dress arrive early for my formal event.
This dress is beautiful, and very flattering. I love it! Unfortunately, I wanted to wear it to a wedding - the ceremony is at 1pm; the reception is at 5pm. It is perfect for the reception, but too dressy for the ceremony since I will be doing a reading and would be way more dressy than the bridal party. It's definitely evening wear. Beautiful though. Haven't decided if I'm keeping it or not. I can't use for the intended purpose, but I could definitely wear it for years and years to other events. Also, dancing in it could be problematic because it is quite long (just above ankles on me, and I am 5' 8-1/2") and it's straight, with no slit. You'd have to hold it up a bit to dance. But again... it's a gorgeous dress.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
997
Crumbling is not an instant’s Act
A fundamental pause
Dilapidation’s processes
Are organized Decays.
’Tis first a Cobweb on the Soul
A Cuticle of Dust
A Borer in the Axis
An Elemental Rust—
Ruin is formal—Devil’s work
Consecutive and slow—
Fail in an instant, no man did
Slipping—is Crash’s law.
5.6k
**Remember her, old friend?
She was...hideous,
You think she was ugly,
oh no, far from it.**
**She was the fairest,
Her lavishing sable hair,
Her viridian eyes,
Her glamorous smile,**
**Her soft-hued skin,
Her delicately slender body,
Her dazzling manners,
Her ever so warm demeanor,**
**Her moves,
Fluid, graceful, focused,
Capturing the essence of the music,
with her mesmerizing artistry.**
**She was indeed perfect,
Unique, as no one could be as elegant,
Charming, for no one, was as lovely.
Beguile...as no one was as rotten.**
**What she was, my old friend,
Was an empty vessel,
the soul of which had perished,
mortified by its actions.**
**For all she ever wanted was approval,
so what she did was put on a mask,
losing herself in the process,
becoming a ghost of her formal self.**
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:18 PM UTC
Inertia the process of doing nothing
Contradiction the art of jumping intellectual rope
Intellectualism the active engagement in educated debate
Spinning the result of which is dizziness
Dizziness a state of uncertainty
Debating the conversational to and fro
Art is conversation nothing more
Conversation a non productive but necessary social engagement
Formal education
Relative information specificity
Consider the ****** lilies
Consideration Debate Intelligence Conversation Inertia
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
let's all revel in the duplicity
duplicate posts that lack authenticity
authentic thoughts fall to the simplicity
simple minds are guilty of complicity
a new origin of no originality
original thinking crushed by formality
formal rules lead to our commonality
common perspectives to lower our mentality
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Giggle giggle **** ****
chuckle chuckle hard heart.
Lose the formal wording part,
just rhyme with nonsense works of art
**** art
Words are art
Parts of art
Those parts of art seen with your
hard heart
Soften up and see the humour
With a giggle giggle **** ****
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
I do not mean this in a strictly literal sense.
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
This is a reflection of Ego, the morality of a copier:
Seeking the easy way out; without personal gain.
Self-defeating in the truest sense of the term.
Those who concern themselves with the affairs of others
shall forever condemn themselves to a sort of cognitive hell.
Do not concern thyself with the lives of others;
you have thy own path to walk.
Those who seek overtly to alter the affairs of others
usually presume or at least condescend
and in the process of doing so
allow themselves to go astray.
Do not glance at the tests on your classmates desk;
what is worse: to know you are wrong, or to deny to yourself your ignorance?
Do not look unto others for answers for your problems
for they cannot know what battles you fight each day.
Look inwards for deeper understanding
for it is thy prism that is responsible for thy spectrum
which in turn is responsible for your perceptible reality.
The truest of teachers do not claim to be so,
the truest of scholars do not simply attend formal classes
the trust of sages claim not their wisdom,
the truest of wisdom seems paradoxical.
Look not unto thy peers for the standards to which to hold thyself.
If this seems to be selfish or self serving,
I wish to remind
Illusion is begun with "I"
and "I" is a temporary vessel.
Thy body knows thy path;
It is thy vessel; it has a compass.
Follow your passions while you still can.
Begin thy Magnum Opus.
Nothing else matters.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Mitakuyapi,
My name is Standing Elk of the Yankton Sioux Reservation. This is my formal apology to all The Elders of Turtle Island. I accept full responsibility for my words and actions in the future concerning the Spiritual Knowledge we are about to share with the People of the Americas and the World. My actions and words are none other than my own based upon the Spiritual Teachings of the Tunjkaśila and the Spiritual Knowledge of the Star Nations. If any Elder of the Red Nation feels that I am wrong in my actions or in any verbal statement, feel free to correct me according to the Laws of the Kit Fox Society that we spiritual human beings have chosen to live by. "If it be necessary to punish a child, do so in such a way that will improve his spirit or mind, but do not lay a hand on him for you may damage the possession of the Great Spirit, His gift of life to you."
As a Red Nation we have lived through dreams and vision of our Spiritual Tunjkaśila, and we have chosen not to stray beyond our limits of the power of our spirit. My personal dream has directed me to contact certain Ikċé Wiċaśa to greatly increase the spiritual awareness that is to be shared with our Brothers and Sisters of the Four Directions. Through my personal contacts, I know some medicine men have agreed 'it is time' because of the closeness of the fullfillment of the prophecies that are vital for our existence as a human race. This sharing of dreams and vision of the Tunjkaśila will strengthen the Foundation of Nations that are sincerely interested in being that element that will be the foundation of the "Thousand Years of Peace."
My hand is open to all those Elders of Turtle Island who wish to share their message, dream and vision with the People of the World; for, I cannot do it alone. Through our teachings, we know that not one individual holds the Knowledge and Mysteries of Life. We were all given a piece of the puzzle. We are all a part of The Sacred Hoop that needs to be mended, and we must make a humble effort in this task if the Seventh Generation, our grandchildren and unborn, are to survive this next awareness. My life was molded around the teachings of the Tunjkaśila that they instilled in our spirit as children. My spirit has directed me in this effort to help our Brothers and Sisters of the Four Directions. I have already chosen not to fail the Tunjkaśila.
*Mitakuyé Oyasiŋ
Héhaka Inaziŋ*, Standing Elk
Ihuŋktoŋwaŋ Oyaté (Dakota Nation)
February 1996
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
I flowed into the dark blue ocean of symbols.
Just yesterday,
I walked with heavy footsteps,
well-grounded.
But once again,
an irresistible force lifted me.
I wanted to see what was above.
Then I came back,
changed,
less happy,
a part of me scattered
in that an alternative universe.
Now, worlds overlapping appear,
The sun is shining with different light.
Words change their meaning.
The fog thickens so,
I can no longer see fissures
under my feet.
Step by step, carefully,
I try to pass through
a dimension of forgotten dreaming.
I don’t want to be stuck
inside an illusion for too long.
Looking at my heart still glowing,
devoured by some voices,
bite by bite, crumb by crumb.
They come in need,
then dissolve like ghosts.
How can one love,
under the heavy weight of knowing—
with Lapis Lazuli pressed
against my chest?
I don’t want to vanish
into sticky spider webs
into formal language
that is too cold,
too detached.
Two forces fight inside me
To see the truth, even if it hurts,
or to close my eyes,
and idealize brutal reality.
Looking in the distorted mirror,
observing love quivering on the verge.
And thus, the Earth becomes the theater.
The cynical facades ******
with pretended freedom,
taking every hour,
every month,
every year,
into
PROGRESSIVE
DE…HUMANIZATION
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
the curves on my
frame are the lines of
a sketch bent slightly
too far; i'm an awkward
angle in geometry
class no one dares to
find and this tiny black
dress is revealing too
much in too little
time. the whispers of
crisscrossed marked
thighs and starry knees
swirl before me and i'm
gone, disconnected. they say
black is slimming but
i've never felt more
potent and i hope
to god no one can see
right through me.
formal dances aren't
ideal for the invisible.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
I was the Crown Prince,
Prince Khurram was my name,
Of Emperor Jahangir I was the son,
Shāhjahān was the royal title I took,
Shihāb al-Din Muḥammad Khurram
Was my formal name.
It was I who got the Taj Mahal built.
You criticize it as wastage,
As an old man's obsession,
An egotistical marble effigy,
A mark of wasted resources,
And a psycho's rare ambition,
You may detest it's purpose...
But I built it out of sheer love...
Love for power,
Love for wealth,
Love for health,
Love for ruling,
Love for display,
Love for strategy,
Love for history.
I want to be remembered.
Just as I want my poetry in marble,
Pure white poetry to withstand,
In the tests of time to prove me true.
Forever, you'll remember me.
And my crazy love for my Mumtaz.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
Winters can be tedious.
Sun dips into early dusk.
A dead fire refuses to ignite.
There's a quick repetition
of opening and closing blinds
over a barred window.
In need of reflection
I search a familiar face
in an unfamiliar landscape.
I have her in my grasp,
half illusion, half real,
a symbolic mask denies
her true face,
her glittering crown
divides us by its radiance.
Groping in darkness,
I stumble over objects
of wood and stone,
my unsteady tread tripping
over their contours.
I light a candle.
Bathed in amber light,
our shadows merge.
A new door opens,
stretching the perspective.
No formal borders here,
they wouldn't survive
the present climate.
In their place,
intricately carved
figureheads and totems-
a vision of the past.
My eye is a camera,
retinas branded with imagery
for the photographer's delight-
coloured pebbles, carved wooden animals,
tin cans, bones.....
....A Glass Sentinel
(though she isn't visible)
I can see right through her-
a vision of smokescreens
and subterfuge.
Past stumps of driftwood,
past the uncut grass,
a few flowers...
...to the fabricated backdrop
of a burning house, black smoke
rising
in
a
thin
stream.
At the open door -
The Guardian,
(I know her inside out)
unmoved,
(she didn't bat an eye)
defiant in a new skin,
a softer version-
The Mother protecting her children,
arms splayed, prepared
for fight or flight.
A russet flame
Licking her spine exhales
'Get out of my way!'
but she wasn't listening.
Smile fixed,
eyes of a phoenix,
a lion,
a raptor,
protector.
We all need feeding,
but not this way!
Throw me a cloth,
a napkin,
a man-size tissue
a lifeline!
She wanted this,
no, wished it-
this symbolism,
this burning of ironic portraits,
to clear the deck,
make way for new.
It shook the house,
its fate sealed behind closed doors.
I compose myself,
pull her back from the perilous edge,
gather her in my arms.
Fragments of shattered words
flutter in the ether.
What is real?
What is fiction?
A carbon copy of thousands?
A charred corner?
A forgotten candle?
WARNING:
'Eating fire' is a risky business
but can attract a large audience.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC