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Pale reeds of morning,
Flash— sparkle in the 'nine-tails,
One red-winged blackbird.
 Mar 2013 WordWerks
Bluelips
As the green fields of desire turn to dust,
And the shining armor is covered in rust,
Cynicism catches reality with her embrace,
While hope takes one last bow in grace.
All that is left is a harsh, crooked grin,
Served by despair who knows he’ll win.
Though his diamonds will leave you shivery,
He is now your finest piece of jewelry.

When taking that frightening leap in tears,
You hear the cries of devotion so near.
In the dark, misgiving cradles your head,
They are dying, these words you left unsaid.
Faith is the light trying to break through,
Yet the choir of doubts still leaves you blue.
Anger and bitterness will claim what’s yours,
Forcing patience to leave these shores.

Looking upon someone you wish you were,
You turn your head away from the blur.
Sweet affection held your hand for a while;
Now regret will walk you down the aisle.
But you request oblivion to stroke your mind,
Yet his stubborn being is not too kind.
Emptiness however is such a fine gentleman,
In him you find your trust to be genuine.
The title for this one is just a working title until I can come up with something better.
Dear Stranger


I can’t say
I miss you.
Because I don’t.
I will say
That time that we went to the square
The band was playing
We weren’t listening
We sat on the grass
And I played with your hair
I miss that day
I miss the time lost
But regrets aren’t important
Except the regret
Of a friendship lost.
Something I desperately miss
But not you.
You were merely a player
In an elaborate game.


That I lost.
 Feb 2013 WordWerks
Lucy
Lucid, luminous and lingering,
A crystal Polythene bag prances
Through the unborn air.
It contorts and convulses;
A perpetual struggle.
The Earth's Wild breath plucks
The entity away from its playful frolic
In a daring
******.
Altering the direction of odd exertion.
Entwining leaves round itself,
In a last hope of disguise.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
Impenetrable hands  
Catch
The gliding bag,
Propelling into the abyss.

Potent forces drag it further still,
Squirming like a forgotten child
Pleading
Yearning, to gain control.                                                                                                                                                                    
Demanding gales ******,
Choking the plastic vessel.
It gasps for air.
A fish awaiting its final breath.
    
Sailing the tumultuous breeze
Dismembered and
Swamped in the swarm,
Its handles now shattered.
A synthetic snow shower falls.

The bag is wrenched
Through the unforgiving sky,
Tumbling, abandoned.
It twists, spiralling,
Swamped in the ritual,
This new course of life.
The consumer controls,
Cash flashing in every corner,
Every crevice, no deviation.

It tears the gorge of the atmosphere
Knows nothing else,
A lone being,
Dragged around
Down to the dust of Earth.
Powerless in a turbulent tempest
The torment of growth.

This polythene material,
Diverged from being branded,
Swirling,
Becomes close,
With every violent fluctuation.
There is nothing inside this bag anymore;
Contents cannot aid its weakness.

When I was five years old,
I cut all my eyelashes off
In hope to gain more wishes.
Each member a companion to my eyes,
Longing to soar...
But fell to the ground.
 Feb 2013 WordWerks
AapkiHamesha
Lips like mine are hard to find,
Search your world,
I don't mind,
Look for better,
You won't find lips like mine.

Lips like mine you'll never find,
So sweet, so full,
You're too blind,
To taste, to love,
A kiss like mine.

Lips like mine you'll never find,
So tender, so witty,
Such frame of mind,
Too dumb to find,
To leave behind,
A pair so fine,
Of
Lips
like
mine.
"Your lips pale in comparison to that mind of yours," he said.
 Feb 2013 WordWerks
Madelin
feisty
 Feb 2013 WordWerks
Madelin
I want to fight
                          - literally -
like the kind where I step in a ring of some kind
   and beat the crap out of a stranger.
I want to use this muscle I've done nothing to earn.
I want a mouthguard with my name on it
  and gloves with 'your name' on them.
The expert says they'll call me Mayhem -
  the dancer who fights, the cheerleader who fights.
I've never fought before, but a part of me knows
I was made for it.
 Feb 2013 WordWerks
Infamous one
She's asks do I look fat
Not sure how to respond
Sounds like trouble
She stands in the mirror noticing flaws
Waiting to got while she still decides
On a wardrobe to hide
Those imperfections in her mind
Waiting and late
Her beauty take time
Waste some of mine
Make up just right
Her hair set for the night
Not trying to argue or fight
Still not ready still not going
Can't fight fate we are still late
We are ready now we could go out
Enjoy this late date night out
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