"glower" poems
[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell],
Like a Sun, in his last deep hour;
Watched the magnificent recession of farewell,
Clouding, half gleam, half glower,
And a last splendour burn the heavens of his cheek.
And in his eyes
The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak,
In different skies.
10.2k
The young maricones and the ***** muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours' pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Like a collar of palpitating ****** oysters
Surround my solitary home,
Enemies of my soul,
Conspirators in pajamas
Who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
Radiant summer brings out the lovers
In melancholy regiments,
Fat and thin and happy and sad couples;
Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon,
There is a continual life of pants and *******
A hum from the fondling of silk stockings,
And women's ******* that glisten like eyes.
The salary man, after a while,
After the week's tedium, and the novels read in bed at night,
Has decisively ****** his neighbor,
And now takes her to the miserable movies,
Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes,
And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down
With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes.
The night of the hunter and the night of the husband
Come together like bed sheets and bury me,
And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are ************
And the animals mount each other openly,
And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically,
And cousins play strange games with cousins,
And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient,
And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought,
Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast,
And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly
On beds big and tall as ships:
So, eternally,
This twisted and breathing forest crushes me
With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth
And black roots like fingernails and shoes.
10k
.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!
I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.
I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.
A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.
I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.
A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.
My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
Life is full of twists and turns
Happiness / Sadness
Anger / Joy
Passion / Indifference
Love / Hate
Opposites at first glance,
each necessary in their own time,
each with a purpose.
Like the swing of a pendulum,
each tick-tock is inevitable,
each turn in the road purposeful,
showing us something
we need to learn from.
If we do not learn,
it passes us by,
and it will pass us by again,
and again,
and again,
until we learn the lesson
life intends us to learn,
then it will move on.
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
swing left, swing right,
higher, lower,
until we reach equilibrium,
then tick-tock,
tick-tock
all over again.
Live, learn, love...
Live, learn, love...
LIVE, LEARN, LOVE!
Balance is the Key.
And Love!
And Life!
And to take each day as it arrives
and make the most of each opportunity,
each smile, glower, crisis and peace in its stride,
and at the end of the day
to be able to say:
I have LIVED this day!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
How dare you treat me like this?
You must be taking the ****
Have you no respect to pay?
Will you just send me
On my way?
The problem’s Yours my friend.
With you I can’t contend.
You are just me, me, me.
You’ve left me totally free.
I’m better off alone,
With no-one in my zone.
You’re such a bigot and a snob
And nothing but a ****
Who fobs me off
With drivel
From your gob.
Your haughty arrogance makes me mad
As you are nothing but a cad.
Okay so you have all the power,
And over me you sure do tower.
But don’t be thinking that I’ll cower:
I glower waiting for my hour,
For my dog’s day
When You I shall devour!
Paul Butters
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
she smells (nameless and shameless)
*a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters
the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:
she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,*
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
There was a man on the bus
today
with hostile eyes...
steely blue and suspicious.
The thirty something woman
across from me;
with black eye and split lip,
her's were wet with tears and fear.
A young couple
only had eyes for each other.
Glistening
with love and desire.
The bigot’s eyes
were all a glower;
hostile and condemning...
The couple was interracial.
The old woman’s eyes
tired with many years,
looked back with memories
and forward to release.
The little child’s eyes
wide with wonder
took everything in,
grist for the mill.
As I wander from
face to face,
I wonder what stories
my eyes offer?
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Morning Sunlight keens like a mother
cries for her dying child & leaves
abandon their trees
while fall presumes winter
will glower like black
ice
hard from
preceding
months,
where the promise
of spring seems
unattainable.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
Do, re, tiring me.
Fa, So, Latte sounds good.
A sale on tea?
Do ti la "So, how are your scales going?"
My teacher calls; he wants to know.
"FAr from REady." I admit.
I tried to practice steady,
but store had a sale today, so I quit.
"You'll never make the grade like that;
Devote every hour" He says with a glower.
"Go practice your bow. Coffee can wait."
He's right of course, but I still take the bait.
How's a someone like me
expected to practice enthusiastically?
What's a musician without caffeine to keep his lights turned to "go"?
When the coffee shop conspires to take all my hard earned DOugh?
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to show thee the estates and isles
Of the heavens
For
Thy name shall I crochets in their capitals
And let the
Unheeded and hidden secrets
Of each one of them in thy palms
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to buy thee the charms of castles
Lying cuddly on the cosmics
For
Thee shall be my god and thy servant shall I become
And perform all thy whims to the very last syllable
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to clad thy soul with garments of the rainbows
For
Thee shall gloss and *****
The sights of crafts
Running on golden asphalt
And make them collide with the pillars of the rays
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to get thee the finest jewelleries
That sparkle better than the figurine of the stars
And on thy finger
Shall I sit the most piety of all diamonds as my theme of love
And make the angels glower with chagrin
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to teach thee how I brew the storms and weathers
For
Your care shall I leave the whips
Of the recalcitrant thunders
And make thee assimilate them with thy counsel
Let's
Go for a walk
Down the higher spheres
And I word to lay thee on the hallowed beds I nursed
There
Shall I leak the ***** of my prowess
Into thine ears
And lick thy feet,showing thee the heavens
A Word For A Walk
To You Getrude
So much love❤
©Historian E.Lexano
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
Behold the man who terrfies with power,
Behold the man who can **** a king with his glower.
All hail the man who has it all,
All hail the man who cannot fall.
Woe to the man who fears judgement day,
He paces and turns the clock off in fear driven rage.
Woe to the man who hides his pills from the other "eyes",
He sits vengeful at his past, masking it with every lie.
Woe to the man who doesn't sleep at night,
For he regrets selling is soul, he doesn't sleep in fright.
Woe to the men who are evil, for deep down they do not know,
Their sickness has overcome them, they aren't aware they are suffering, barely able to crawl.
Behold the one who sees it all,
It is I, the lowly, the injured, the small.
Behold the one with the love for the wolves when the world does not,
I love what the world only wishes to die and rot.
The evil are not born evil, some this truth is no option,
For many, "Go to hell, you deserve no love, you are just a toxcin."
I have grown to love what you consider "wicked",
Despite my life, I am the victim.
I can only love and forgive, no hatred after all these years,
I still pray for them, behind my bruises, scars and tears.
We could both debate, argue and try to pursuade, but I care too much, I will not lie behind hate.
Perhaps a weakness, call me pathetic,
but I was sent to heal the broken,
Even if it makes me just as sick.
Without a cure, how can we heal?
Without a heaven, there is only hell.
I fear the day when I am free,
I fear the day this chord is broken,
Killing them from me.
What will be left is me the murderer,
Me to mourn their decay;
And what will be left is just a dream, a blurr.
A pain I cannot bare to think it,
I cannot stomach that, not even for a bit.
So, woe and behold,
The evil, the sick,
Whom society and the mind is their virus,
A good soul their antibiotic.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
a balmy sweet day
the company of palms
caught the rays
with a
sway
blue hues
sliced evenly
through the green fan
Bahama breezes
brought blooming
bitd of paradise
dreams
dreams of footprints
on wet shore
DREAMS
of loving passion
forlorn
~~~ but ~~~
a little more time
a little more time
breezes sigh
pick up
become
WIND
sea begins to chop
sands to sing
air soughs through
the fronds of the
satin spikes
and the entire tree
begins to
SWAY
a dance awed
by forest nymphs
so potent and
courageous
~ yet ~
delicate and fragile
the spiked heads
of the palms
show a
frenzied nod
then a
shake
then they
/// BOW \\\
clouds glower
on the
horizontal lines
the joins of
sea and sky
rain begins to beat
tattoos
in the sands
the congregation of palms
are now bending low
touching their
foreheads
to the
singing beaches
like the devout
in a
mosque
they
bend
like reeds
but have a root
that touches the
inner sanctuary
of the
((( €ARTH )))
nothing will uproot
them from
her
(((♥HEART♥)))
with eyes closed
they go back
to being
TALL
and
PROUD
with teeth clutched
they know even
~ this ~
soon
will
>>> PASS <<<
(C) dajena m
(C) soulsurvivor
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
The woman of power, of the final hour,
Stood upon the gaping edge of death,
Savoring her final due breath,
Recollecting her spent time, as the demons beneath, did climb.
The woman, once unknown, many must atone,
With a simple display, she tore the lights that held the night at bay,
For nothing as powerful as she, should anyone but agree,
Resting upon her belt, the stars forever dwelt.
The woman, demur of the end, a challenge to death, she had penned,
A game, we shall partake, with eternal lives at stake,
For if I do not wish to die, your purpose, you must defy,
With a stolen piece, her years did increase.
The woman of blackened markings, her mind of ever-workings,
Stood tall upon her mare, chased with twisting white hair,
Upon her belt, rested pouched treasures, glittering fondly with pleasure,
For her company never to shake, as her pale eyes did forever take.
She was the woman of Cree, far beyond The Black Ink Sea,
The taker of stars, leaving naught but empty scars,
She was the winning player of Death's Game, her rewards, to gain,
With the twisting marks of power, deep to the pit, she did glower.
For nothing of its sort,
Shall ever hold her short,
From any a task within her aim,
A woman such as I, victory shall I claim.
And with that thought dancing across her mind,
She leapt, and left the mortal world behind.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
They came in search of incredible sun,
seduced by cicadas and an easy time;
extraneous baggage with nothing to declare.
Two days in:
Sister Rose shrivels on her browning stem;
survives on lettuce leaves and cheap wine.
Pitiable by design, knowing perfectly
she's past her beauty max.
At her feet:
The blue pool cups cured hide
of idle heat-crazed beast
unleashed from his computer belt-
a doughboy moulded to his insubstantial boat-
afloat for fourteen days!
Entwined-
my crazy brother reclines with his latest lover
to share 'delightful' elderflower champagne
through a single straw,
****** together by their eyes.
And in the shade:
mother sits it out in floral silk,
sustained by seventy deniers
and her would-have-liked ideals-
the shadow of a lattice grill tatooed across her brow.
Then as the just deserts arrive,
and darted looks are handed round,
I glower at the heat - crazed ground
and muse- 'it's time to go,'
........but they would never forgive me..
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 5:10 AM UTC
Antihero
An old stone built tower stands above all on the skyline;
The curves of its body twisting spiral’s in the air.
The moon shines around its peak, which reaches up so very high.
It is surrounded by a castle keep,
That is an image of a burnt out nightmare.
The castle walls are in pieces, like its people,
Cannon fodder their game.
The drawbridge has fallen, but the iron gate still remains.
The shadows in the night speak of a desire to be the enemy within.
The voices of the fallen spit out their final endless scream’s.
The sound of war is upon the castle door.
No more escape for its inhabitants,
Apart from those who are fleeing through the century old tunnel.
The secret passage to a way away from all the savage.
The army continues to do battle, at the top of ladders and ramparts.
All have been affected by this battle’s damage.
The sorcerer of this cursed land,
Stands in the furthest, most high room,
Shooting lightning at the wall tops as the chaos reigns below,
Where all is doom
And in a final decisive action,
The sorcerer reads from his big black book;
The ground shakes, the fire falls and all enemy are shook
And thrown from their steeds in front of the castle gate.
In pieces they bleed and from the tops of the castle walls,
Those who are falling will never be saved.
They crash to the floor and become no more.
The sorcerer falls to his knees, exhausted of power,
But he has put an end to this midnight war.
No protection was given by the enemies armour.
Their swords and shields crashed loudly as they hit the ground.
The enemy is no longer the invading warrior;
They are all running in fear and their last sounds are all dying out.
As the sorcerer takes the final step down from his twisted tower,
He pushes open the thick oak wooden door.
As he walks out into the open air courtyard his face is a glower;
No living enemy can be seen, because the enemy are no more.
His men are all cheering and shouting his name,
But the sorcerer is not laughing with them, for he has a plan.
He tells them this morrow they will all fight again,
So they must all prepare to once more stand.
Some voices of discontent whisper within the ranks;
Some of them openly criticize his view.
As he creates a ball of flame that hovers above the palm of his hand,
They all realize he has been their antihero
And he could be their demise too…if he chooses to.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
BEYOND THE CLOUDS
He runs
for the sheer joy
of being
a little boy.
"Brian...Brian!"
I try to rein him in
with my voice but
he escapes even that.
"Watch out...watch out!"
I throw the words at him
"Or you'll hit
that cloud!"
Two clouds glower at him
and he stops in his tracks
suddenly uncertain if
that is possible.
And so perspective
cowers my little brother
and he runs back
holds my hand.
We tiptoe past
the threatening clouds
leaving them behind
he laughing nervously.
Now far far from that time
beyond even death
I call his name
and he runs and
takes my hand.
The clouds can only
look on.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
A pin point
Of liquid silver sound
Trickles from
Open sky
Low under leaden feet
The cheated generation
Lies
Present and correct
Rank and file
Row upon row
Dark sockets gape
Where eyes once flared and flinched
Bled and oozed
Then locked their grateful lids
To extinguish Hell
For good
Beneath the sun's glower
I raise mine to
Squint
At the lark
Ascending
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
You’ve got some new ***** you think is better,
She’s a second rate version of me, doll.
She’s not your freedom, she’s your fetter
I’m the first edition, if you recall.
She’s Crystal Lite and I’m a rich liquor.
She’s Mother Theresa, I’m Mata Hari
I’m a solar flare and she’s a flicker,
She’s a walk in the woods, I’m a safari.
I’m fifty one flavors, she’s vanilla.
But that flavor is bound to sour.
If you’re not careful she’ll turn to Scylla,
her loving gaze turned to a glower.
She’s safe but I know you stud,
you can’t handle a moment of dull.
I’m in your thoughts, I’m in your blood
and you can’t get my words out of your skull.
She thinks she’s got your heart and that’s fine.
She can call you hers, but you’ll always be mine.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
Iamb, iamb, iamb, I plod along
in verse predicting I could write a song.
To call upon the muse of higher power
pour some wine, kick off your shoes and glower.
While putting best foot forward, don't forget:
cliches are lines that surely **** your wit.
Reality, you say, bears greener grass?
Abstraction always steps across as crass.
It's true you could walk on like this for days.
Your meter's tight, it rarely ever strays.
But what of clever feet and sounds succinct?
If images are dull, your verse will stink,
As blossoms dance upon the redbud tree
and oceans fill your squid with ink of glee,
remember what your mama always said:
mixed metaphors fill readership with dread!
Say: sonics surely sock a swelling swale,
Entwined, the twisted tongues tell not your tale.
Less is always more, the teachers say.
If tricks you train, then please just walk away!
I never knew how hard it really was
to write a poem that might parade a buzz.
I thank you moderators and big brass
for sticking yours so fully up my ***
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
Let the seventh sorrow reach into
isolated dint; glower, I’m home.
zealots pleasure striking their coup.
Salivating over lustful tomes
all while the hypocrite’s contrition
levels all but a single man’s glare,
interacting with love’s first partition.
Mmm…or maybe; I don’t really care.
I don’t know, nor do I feel the sun.
Lo and behold I spy your visage
onward into my lovely dreams.
Violently these feelings aren’t yet done.
Energy released until I scream
Yet the soul contracts massage.
***** your female mantis drains
Until we look and find the rain.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
I’m the sickness,
the grotesque singularity that envelopes and gropes that sick nectar.
The sickly substance drains so subtle upon the cut edge of lips
and the pillar draw strings stitched and bound between cardiac flesh.
I’ll cleave,
cut and seethe,
suckle upon the sin I glower as I twine
and tug at those piano puppet strings caught in twain with every heart beat,
just trigger happy nerves spackled in misunderstood concept called love and impulse.
Pluck the collar cuff at your guttural sing and sentence,
those ballots fluttering from between pearl teeth,
I’m stealing those breathing gasps and loving longings;
they’re all just flecks and fragments of lackluster human baggage,
just mannequins treading sluggish,
fractured splinter frame and hinge fickle.
I’m the socio experiment,
the fiendish distaste of a chimera,
the zealous of corrupted cold hearted,
faux feeling skin wearing thing.
Just a copulation of electrical splatter and liquid tissue,
inorganic animal,
snapping jaw and glass shard fangs.
I’ll rile and reeve between the click and snap of your heart beat,
coddle the smoke of prey’s scent,
I’ll parasite the life blood that courses and holds beneath your emotional connect.
My cancer’s a slaughter fed consolation,
ever feasting malignant circumstance,
it rallies a thousand eyes,
irises blood thick,
fragments my moral conscience with teeth riddled limbs,
claws that chew and tear.
A multi-armed fiend,
segmented soulless and black tainted blood lost long ago,
all that remains ***** is the tissue wearing skeleton I claim domain,
fragmenting the soul into steel shards,
all’s just razor edge mechanical once the human feel falls to ash amongst the clutter of bone.
You’ll find the soulless circuit board in the gulf of your cancerous conscience,
as the human corrupts to cancer
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
At his face it got harder to stare
But in his truth he would glower
Into this looking glass
That looks right back
At the years of age
That washed his face
Over that disgraced fortnight
and it’s dragging scrape
What was his counted,
that ruffling came natural
In a sentiment of the innate
and the inner mechanics of his climate
Co-Walkers, he thought viewed him a cynics ornate
From then on, became perpetually discounted
Though his face got harder to look at
by its contents,
Optics inflamed
and wrinkles elongated
to his whiskers growing skyward
a striking true spruce in essence to become
Nevertheless a bedraggled authentic
Just before a flooding pooled his lids
or the dawning of his tears
Until this vanish to enhance
These characters took on relevance
Apropos of what he saw looking back
The girl, his love, the spirit inside his drive
She could see all directions, like hands on a clock,
Every hour the dialed sun would tower
Giving her all his angles,
She could anticipate all of this,
including all opposites
She could see all that
To her,
His face was not hard to stare
Still chiseled but shaved,
like polished marble glare
Her love was true for years
Opposing claims would be intercepted when asked if during she dabbled in deception
Then immediately accepted their quiz, taking near comfort as she’s done for years placing her lips closer to his eyes,
she kissed his cheek and licked his tears
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
Thirteen thousand strides progress
Blind leathern tread with gritted teeth
Stride hard rough bracken heather strive
Incipient thought embrace the scarp
Bent shoulder strain web strap entrench
Sharp body lean oppose the wind
Slow pitch forward cold lash rain
Pause..Shrug pack .. Lurch on again
Rough rock scrape pass
Sharp edge hand scrape
Each tread ascend dull lactic ache
Stone eyes cast up
Embrace dark peak
Surge on .. Dig in..
Embrace the pain
Aggressive stance.. find strength begin
Engage the enemy entrenched within
With comrades in adversity
Side glance reveal
Grey brother tight
Mordant ploughshare gleaming bright
United thought strong purpose right
Grim grimace glower grinding on
Helping hand support and share
Exchang-ed glances sing the pain
Relentless climb advance distain
Strong ******* stride bogged into mire
Grappling cragfast handclasp dire
Entropic spirit brief despair
Revelatory cause unswayed
Each cloistered personal crusade
Burst upwards into sunlight flame
And stand with vision intertwined
Each grim companion lasting friend
Eyes meet brief recognition shout
We know what it’s all about
These clasping minds
Empath embrace
Profound cognitive self aware
To follow where few others dare
These comrades in adversity
Oct 30, 2009
Oct 30, 2009 at 7:24 AM UTC
There'd only plundering be;
If all of us were wolves,
No sheep could flee....
Oh, the pirate's life for thee.
And the pirate's life for me,
And the world were all in flames,
And the world were all in flames.
If everyone were pirates,
Why, villains all we'd be,
And every deck-born swab
Would glower at you and me
With our laces and our kerchiefs,
And our killer pirate wigs
As we stormed across the continents and seas;
As we stormed across the continents and seas.
And good men, none, would live their lives,
With the gentling help of their good wives;
And children, all, would yell and terrorize,
Chasing down the nursemaid with the kitchen knives.
If everyone were pirates,
No farmers, and no fishers on the beach,
No bakers, and no soldiers continental,
No doctors, and no teachers left to teach,
No preachers and no sermons for to preach,
But only pirates coming up the streets...
But only pirates coming up the streets.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
She appeared when I was lonely,
she saw through my wounds closely;
I was pretending to be fine but I wasn't,
I told myself I had moved on but I hadn't,
but she knew it all,
her heart was pure enough to see it all.
Unknowingly she came up to me
took my hand and asked to me see
to feel,
what love meant;
to me she was an angel god sent.
She showered me with love that I never knew,
she served me the peach tea herself she brewed
its fragrance that still lingers in my mind
And all these years I still haven't been able to find,
although it is not necessary anymore
She rests in my heart core.
She knew how to look into my eyes.
She knew how to make my lips curve in a smile.
It was new for me to express
I was willing to do anything for her to impress.
I wasn't aware of this feeling,
While thinking about her I was smiling..
maybe cause' my wounds were healing,
this heart used to pound when ears hear her voice,
lovely as she was, to not love her there wasn't a choice.
All her insecurities
All her negativities',
seemed lovely to me,
I wanted to serve her the whole world,
wanted to see her eyes shine more than a pearl.
I wanted to **** her tears
wanted to absorb all her fears
Then to hear her chuckles.
Her smell was the scent of blossom
her cheeks were glower than the moon.
Her lips redden as the rose
I wonder about the taste of her gloss.
Wish I could play her my favorite tune,
Although I lacked, she'd still flatter me.
I wanted feel her up close
was never able to tell her these,
So today I wrote it in pieces..
maybe if she reads it someday;
I hope it would be a spring day,
cause she blossomed like flowers
Wish I were her bower.
I know while saying this I might seem a juvenile
but my dear,
I just know I've always longed to see you smile.
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 2:29 AM UTC