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Amber trees shed leaves
To make an earthy cradle
For new seeds to grow.
Saw a haiku. Felt like putting one together.
 6d Xasvel
RED
I sat on a chair, my mind was bare,
No spark, no flame, just empty air.

A bird flew in with a cheerful tweet,
She danced a while, then made retreat.

She took my thought, my golden light,
And left me staring, blank and white.
Of splendid thrones of gold  
or treasures manifold  
  
Of jewelled caskets  
or lavish banquets  
  
Of Emirs and rajahs  
Of Sultan and Shahs  
  
Of kings and queens  
Of rulers and emperors  
  
Of sparkling crowns  
or flowing gowns  
  
Of their subservient stewards and obedient pages  
Of their stalwart squires and servile knaves  
  
Of poor humble, docile minions  
who tended to regal pavilions  
And obeisantly carried royal palanquins  
Oh and some were real life harlequins  
  
Of castles and palaces  
of abounding gold and silver  
in ostentatious regal splendour  
  
The sidelined fanning maids in waiting  
Yet to me only one thing worth noticing  
The minstrels who came to sing  
from afar for the queen and king  
  
For I'd rather be a poetess for kings  
so to my tunes swayed a kingdom  
than I be the king of mere subjects  
and be filled with regal boredom!  
  
So I could join ranks of  
troubadours  
and sing for the king  
some folklores.
Since the site has no picture feature for each poem I think I will post the poems pic on my cover photo, so the cover photo will represent my latest poem. Take care all and best wishes to site owners.
 Jul 13 Xasvel
RED
She is the life,
He is the death.
She was mistreated,
He held no breath.
She hoped to end,
He fought to stay.
She kissed him once—
He rose,
She slipped away.
 Jul 13 Xasvel
Mike Adam
Cloud
 Jul 13 Xasvel
Mike Adam
Today some cloud
Put on a show,
Streaking across
Clear blue sky.

Pretty
Empty
Condensation
Evaporating far away
 Jul 12 Xasvel
alex
Is to observe the world
in all its intricate detail
To hear all the
unspoken words
To be a watcher at every moment
but never to be watched

From all the dark corners
where the whispers reach
is a fly, soundless, immobile
seeing all
yet seen by none
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