"slains" poems
Heard some poetry it was such foolery.
Read some poetry.
Such deceptions I see, stumbled on some poetry such poor delivery.
I cant believe how the writer does deceive, like a magician with words to weave.
How one holds some tricks up their sleeve.
The writer spuns delusions, crazy intriguing lines meant to blow minds.
Nothing but foolery.
Found some poetry! Seemed kinda fun to me, but sit back and watch and see.
The writers quite clumsy. Read some poetry.
Such creative illusions of such wicked delusions.
Because the person is just writing confusions.
Things in their mind
about experiences over time.
when Its best to know both sides of those poetic stories.
Or its just untruths or hurts to what that poet grieves.
Just what that poet sees no where near the truth.
Just telling slippery lines like rotten tooth's.
On their mistakes and there pains and sorrows.
That's nothing of the truth, how they discarded beautiful tomorrows.
Discarding friendships,
That where meant to be only friendships.
Now they are writing darkened daggers.
Such old timely closed minded wanna be swaggers.
Writers cruelty worded daggers.
Some Poets write for Healing, some write for pain, some write for financial gain.
Telling stories, good, bad, sad, foolishness after having gone mad, just ta complain.
No truths in the splattered stains of poetic slains. Its the closed minded, failing in love without you kind. writing to teach the blind, and forgetting leaving wise lessons behind.
Beware of the blind leading the blind poets the assumes, the know its. With hidden motives.
Up their sleeves, writing poetic lined deliveries. Read some poetry not by skilled/knowledged hands I see.
Oh found some poetry. Quite deceptive to me. maybe wounded souls they be.
by selina sharday_H.E.R#POETRY
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 11:53 AM UTC
There was no death
But life without her,
Til the sunset every morning
And the deepest yearnings
Echo the slains cry of vengeance:
I glanced at the midnight hour
And found the yellow secrets,
A shadow lay as a tear
And the moon cried beneath
The last kiss.
Where is my heart,
But six feet under
Wherever you are.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
I am brewing with silence crazily
Notas have died long since
Time is a scorpion which stings itself
Loneliness is amirror which shows myself
You are lurk in my childhood tears
Like a kite whose rope break off
Let it go! İn honor of you Valentina!
Everyone was so right
That we must have been unfair awfully
Our fingerprints must have been
On the all of the slains collar
Blood of killed children
Must have benn on our tooth
Let it go! İn honor of you Valentina!
There were too many innocent
We must have been most babylonian
Ah Valentina!
We could not have borned
As well as we could not have learnt to live
We would have ben a sin
İf we born again
Not much
Goodness We could have loved!
Let it go! İn honor of you Valentina!
Murat Halici
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC