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 Nov 2019 A Flowered Tux
Afia
A shaft from the golden sun,
reclined peacefully in my lap.
The amber gleam reflected back,
and gently baked the solemn land.
An ardent whisper furnished the woods
with a viridescent scent that woke up the woods.
Silver songs of sleek streams,
chased the lullabies away;
gently.
Ancient tress cuddled the wind,
their leaves clapped in sheer bliss
The broken winged white eyed bulbul,
warbled hymns to lift the curse.
Scarlet tainted vintage letters resting in the rustic mailbox,
await your tender touch; while they chant for a past long gone.
But lily livered clouds,
they have turned your courage into a yellow illusion.
So now defy the toxic words and the errors you made,
A different person inside your skin, long ago, burned our hearts on the hateful flames.
I look for answers in Nature.
Congratulations
You passed the test
Now I know exactly
what move to make next
 Oct 2018 A Flowered Tux
adriana
she was the maker, he was her muse
a creative girl with everything to lose

she colored her canvas with her bleeding heart
she loved him and watched her world fall apart

she got her heart broken but kept a blank face
knowing that there are some mistakes you can't erase

she gave up her art, a lover betrayed
her pure white mind turned a darker shade.
And then there were seven.
 Jul 2018 A Flowered Tux
Sara
When did I stop trusting you?
I didn't even notice it.
When did I stop listening,
start thinking you were full of it?

Convinced I'd heard it all before,
read all the writing on the wall.
I'd smile, and nod, then close the door.
I won't believe you anymore.

Why did I stop trusting you?
I never even wanted to.
The sky, it just turned inside out
when I first lent my ear to doubt.
'Full of it' is an English phrase which means full of **** btw
 Jul 2018 A Flowered Tux
Sara
It became a long
and drawn out mess.
You push me back, I'd pull you in
just to counteract the loneliness.

I don't really want you,
I'll confess.
I just want things that I'm not meant to;
the feel of forbidden sweetness.

I will wear a little less,
each time you say no more;
just as you feel like you forget,
you'll smell the smoke beneath your door.
Sorry if this offends anyone?
Fun is fun when it runs along in its merry way
but when the sky turns liquid gray
all the fun goes away
cause through my eyes
my dull gray eyes
I see right through your foolish lies
I know that you do not know
and I do not let it show
be that as it may
with my eyes of gray
powers of plenty
I look within my realms
of mind and heart
you can't look into them
you can't look away
from my enchanting eyes of gray
driving driving driven on
to other lands and a further dawn
the deserts sandy storm has blown
and all the dust be dusted clean
and filtered through the cracks unseen

© Crystal Erickson 2007
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
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