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 Jun 2013 Yolanda Smith
Emilie L
An early bird
Is all up
And ready to go
Ahead, a challenging road
Inside, the spirit to conquer it all
To succeed without fail
To do and not just try
No matter what it takes,
To give it her everything
And make it happen
Because when you believe
Then anything is possible
I believe

-02/12/12
© eMs' silent poetry. All Rights Reserved.
Such dreams you inspire in hours past the witching hour
All visions of you in tender repose
Seductress is an assumption by ribbons that flow from your pen
Sassy be sassy again and again.
Yesterday's lass is not today's sas.
Sensual seeker
Expressing sincere exchange of the word.
Dancing to a different drum as of our ilk do
Casting spells and weaving dreams. I can push my mind through
Entering sassydom
Does this portrait of sassy do justice to you ?
Seduction deduction.
Another prompt to create. Can't feel my mo jo today.
When I was driven to compete and test my mettle
I learned a word.
The old man withe the gravely growl. A wise and bedreggled owl.
His eyes bored in as he did impart. The art.
The beauty. You gotta be clutch son.you gotta deliver.


      Clutch.
A state of zen.
Conquer the moment
Again and again.
Jockspeak I know BUT analagous to living.

Condensed.The now is all we truely have.
Runners high in the blink of an eye.
Pure pleasure to live the moment.

Unbridled.
Making love. *******.*******. you pick.
For me relaxed concentration. A zen state.
Pure harmony? That special union. A once a lifetime.

Once. And only once.
Clutch happenstance.
Same,same.

Grinding gears? Can't mesh.
Slack tide....suspension. joy or pain?


I learned it became addicted to it
Sheer confidence that I will overconquer
The moment.
Then I lost it and came crashing down.
I was human after all.
But such is the human design.

Soar high and long.
Ignore the siren song.
The moment is all there is.
My best friend did steal my heart.
I didn't catch it when it happened,
only after it broke did I notice
something very wrong.

Stealing hearts.

Thief in the night,
leaving me to wake up to an empty house.
 Jun 2013 Yolanda Smith
Mikaila
I'd like to see you
In the quiet hours of the morning
When even the birds have gone to sleep.
In those moments, the few,
When silence settles like a soft blanket
Over all the world.
When mist hangs,
Billowy and light,
Over the wet grass .
And among the tree trunks,
So dark and so moss covered
That they look like velvet smudges against the hazy blues and greys.
When the silvery drops of a midnight rain have clung,
Diamonds,
To the screen doors
And slid pure and clear
Down the windowpanes
And stuck, ripe and full,
In all the splendor of the tiny spiderwebs
That always suddenly drape the grass
Just before dawn
And disintegrate at the first real embrace of the sun's radiant fingers.
I want to see you then,
With your eyelashes casting long shadows on your cheeks,
In the slanted ray of moonlight that might
Gently pull aside the curtains to kiss your forehead.
I want to see you smile in your dreams.
I think if I were to see you that vulnerable,
I would never recover from how I'd feel
Just then,
In the quiet hours of the morning.
I (x)
am (is) equivalent to
the negativity of becoming someone who is
neutral
when breaking down the exact same yet half
of being yourself, being yourself
taking afar For a common knowledge
that rationalizes you
To become of an existence.
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