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 Nov 2013 Yolanda Smith
aiv
I am still and always in love with you
For you weren't born perfect
But I love everything about you
You're imperfections make you
Amazingly beautiful  

I always daydream about
Your crooked teeth
Constellation of freckles
Your emotionless eyes
Your pale as a snow skin

But in reality
You're a corpse lying
On a hospital bed
You were dead
Like 10 minutes ago

I'm in love
With our beautiful tragic
Love story
Written in my heart
Are our memories
That small man who always sang
That small man who danced in my head
That small man with youth
Undid his shoelaces
And broke all the barracks of the festival
Suddenly everything collapsed
And in the silence of the festival
In the ruin of the festival
I heard your happy voice
Your voice so torn and fragile
Innocent and desolate
Came from afar and called me
And I put my hands on my chest
where they trembled ******
Seven broken pieces of mirror
with your twinkling smile
Crowded lakeside,
more than expected
on a normal day.
Hoping for a quiet
rendezvous in private
she looked aghast,
at such a turn of events,
nevertheless started
to make eyes at him;
patience wasn't her best friend.
Shutting up like a clam
he was a picture of contrast.
Every desire she expressed turned
to a love sick wood duck
soon  a flock was billing and cooing
preening and polishing in haste,
making amorous advances
with an aggressiveness suggesting
intolerance to his reticence.
They chased his silence with
irresistible  mating calls,
raising hell as if in heat,
making him regret.
In the tired light
from the fire lit in the pyre
he saw a drop of tear
quivering on her withered cheek.
He longed,
but  having no right
to console her
left without a word;
stepped in to the darkness
that unfolded its black carpet.
Her dark silhouette moved beyond the grilled window
Was she a living woman, an apparition, or a shadow?

In the evening sitting there her head bowed low
I loved to think of her a ghost on the window.

That house from ours was within a stone’s throw
At that time looked remote now only I know.

Her hands they always moved what she was up to
Was she knitting corpses’ shroud I had little clue.

Don’t look at her, mom would say, stay away from her
Her words ran me down the window didn’t seem far.

Quickly I shut my eyes there was no way I could dare
To ignore mom’s caution and had her in my stare.

I went back to my homework not that I much willed
But lessons had to be learnt pages had to be filled.

I heard ghosts could pass through wall anyplace they could be
What if she had stopped her work and come looking for me?

I sat frozen in benumbed fear my courage they all fled
For courage would be of no use when dealing with the dead.

I wasn’t safe alone cried out 'mom' to find her I frightfully ran
*Passed by the house the grilled window but there wasn’t a woman.
 Nov 2013 Yolanda Smith
Md HUDA
Imaging you when you were a school girl
Mini- sarong, small white shirt
A bag jam-packed with books hanging on your shoulder
Tiara in head, and two queues like two small dark snake
And those long eye petals highlighted with collyrium
Your two sapphires fluctuating in deep Blue Ocean
Impish humming birds were humming with their assiduous tongue,
to get your attention.
Let the Almighty curse their tongue was your supplication
Walking in two fickleness legs, licking an Ice- cream
Bewilderingly, you became my “A Midsummer night’s dream”.
Each second I encounter you in my Ruya
For years you are my Ruya.
Ruya(dream)- A turkish word
 Oct 2013 Yolanda Smith
SparksLC
Reality….
Is a cold, trickling path
Discreetly laced with relentless failures and nearly impossible victories;
Set in place, for its travelers to painfully bear;
With a road that leads to chaos, and with which this chaos breeds a new form of humanity…
We are called The Animals.
Fighting, bleeding, and dying for survival.
Pushing and pulling desperately at the strings attached to our backs,
Hoping and praying someone will magically appear, and cut our fate bearing threads of life.
Forevermore we curse those with power, and at the same time we cling to them.
Wishing and pleading, that these oh, so powerful beings,
can heal our never-ending, anguish and turmoil.
And yet these beings, these God’s request remittance from their people.
Forever draining them of the precious life they held so tightly onto,  
Eternally controlled in a puppet master society,
Afraid to speak up, out, or against the string holders;
Fearful that if their inner most thoughts are heard,
They’ll lose what small bit of freedom they have left.
these animals,
these BEASTS,
Are forever muted in fear,
Of this double-edged sword of reality.
And yet they still continue to grow.

© 2012 SparksLC
~Let's all find ways to live and grow in this jungle of life; for we can only push ourselves forward~
I've been good and working hard
Doing my best to get noticed for the right reasons
There's a ******* my mind
We are both goal oriented
I've been focused and ambitious
Id like to do more for myself and other benefit
Lots of of ideas bouncing around
Id like to make them a reality
Instead of asking what if
As of late I've been asking how
Id like everyone to be happy but that's on them
In over lowering myself to be accepted
Majority of the time I'm rejected
Being sober and straight edge
I like to read use my mind not let tv influence my reality
Writing is my expression so I could be heard and understood
I'm hooked on good vibes not fueled by negativity
Avoiding ppl who don't understand
Praying to be understood
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