Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
(I)

Pale mulberry was the sky,
No bird dared to fly!
Thus all seemed wrong,
But then, you came along
Suddenly like summer rain
And quelled away my pain.

(II)

Velvet blue was the sky,
No bird dared not to fly!
Thus all seemed right,
And as pure as a cloud in white,
When suddenly like the rainbow,
You quelled away thy heavenly glow.

(III)

Dark grey is the sky,
No bird seems to ever fly!
Athwart my wild blue yonder
Where I, indignantly do ponder
Night and day wondering why,
We can't give it just one more try.

(IV)

Pitch black is always the sky,
But, faster than any bird I'll fly!
Swifter than a scudding cloud
Whilst calling upon you so loud,
All the way to a strange plain,
Just to ever feast about you again.

(V)

Magenta magic will always be the sky,
When once again we'll merilly fly!
Then, flowers once again shall bloom,
To see you and me as bride and groom
By a placid Mulberry Moon on the rise,
To kindle our enchanted paradise.



©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
1st December 2016
***!!! Can't really believe it that among the myriads upon myriads of beautiful poems here at HP, this poem has turned up the daily. Thank you so much dear friends to have catapulted me to stardom for the second time...I'm really all gratitude.

#Retrospection
#Nostaligia
#Lonesome
#Craving
#Wishing
 Dec 2016
Tom'riesa Waranatau
Our photograph
With blissful smile on your face
Holding me tight against your chest
Hanging on the wall of my bed
Awakens poignant
Memories of happier days,
Just you and me
Just us
Wild and free
Until you were taken
Away from me
On the day before our wedding.

How I wished everyday
that there is always a journey of return
but death doesn't grant to me as yet
until the day when
my Savior shall return
and
I shall see you again,
my groom,
on that golden morning.
 Dec 2016
nivek
Strong coffee hits its own personal spot
in mouth, mind, reviving life from the half dead.
She gets you going through gears you forgot you had.
Sends you down the highway without as much as a look back.
And you arrive in an alternate Universe, an alien to your former self.
 Dec 2016
Valsa George
Come on my Love! Let us move to the East
Where the sun resurrects after his interim death
Where darkness first gives way to light
And life renews itself every morn

Look to the East beyond those crooked hills
Where poplars grow tall in line
And wild weeds hem the edges of pathways
Where bunnies and squirrels hop and jump
And merrily run round the trees
Where the wind moves whistling through bamboo reeds
Where the laughing cataract leaps down from the rocks
And flow along in silvery rills
Where the languorous breeze plays upon the leaves

Away from the tumult, far from the crazy crowd
With the pandemonium of the world
Hushed to serene silence
Let us move to that sequestered glade
Of perennial greenery,
through the sunlit grove
Where we shall walk hands locked
Till the bright day gives way to dusky night
Inhaling night air in scented perfume
Under the stillness of a star lit sky
Through moon blanched woods, mysterious
Listening to the sweet whispering of our soul
And ‘drinking life to the lees’ from the chalice of love

Oh! Come on,
Let us not tarry…. Let’s go!
 Dec 2016
Tom'riesa Waranatau
A real gentle man  never forgets his way to his house,
he  will always go to his house even if he is drunk or weary from working late at night.

For in that house lives the treasures of his heart;
a beautiful Princess waiting at home,
and children (for those that have a child or two)

A real lady never forgets her way to her house, too...
when i last met her
her ******* were bursting with seeds
her thighs plump as stems of plantain
and when in the December sun
she dried her hair behind the acacia
i dreamed of lying with her on the grass
drunk in the moaning song from her navel
till the evening drove us cold and old
and darkness stole her flesh from my eyes
and it's almost December again
as she walks with my hands in her
along the field after crop
just tugging my hand once to stop
delicately drawing from her breast
an Agfa snap of two unreal people
in the most unlikely place
looking awestruck into the lens
passing into the evening light
before leaving me halfway
of her cottage and a home.
 Nov 2016
David Bremner
Here in my mind
I see the world
Coloured in shades of red
The colour that paints my love

I see the sky
Crimson and clear
With brightly burning sun
That warms the air around us

The sea is pink
A pool of love
Bottomless in its depth
Made for lovers to drown in

Ruby mountains
Valleys of jewels
Yet none will ever hold
The value of your love

The trees are red
Yet still they grow
Just like a fertile heart
They reach as high as they can

This is my dream
My scene for us
For red is the colour
Of passion and desire

And that - with love
Is how I feel
About you - only one
Please feel the colours I see.


An early poem of mine when I wrote 4,4,6,7.
The best part,
and the most part,
of my life
has been invaded
by something
which is foreign to my soul,
to my mind,
and to my body,

It consumes me,
it tortures me,
relentlessly,
daily and nightly.

It is an uninvited,
unwanted,
intolerable alien,
I am the taken-over host,

I am cruelly entertained
by this wicked,
evil,
unsightly,
unholy ghost
~ Anxiety.

By Lady R.F ©2016
 Nov 2016
L B
Tired clot of night
in the moon’s slight of hand
in the moon’s slight—
place to hang my hat....

Winter clouds come tumbling toward
the gray
Raked clean by barren trees
Yard waits with its leaves
tucked in corners by the wind
along hedges, stairways
mingling with renegade trash
Stuffed in layers like elderly keepsakes for—

no one cares...

My yard—a neglect of winter woods
but for towels waving stiffly on the line
and the squealing crackle of my footsteps—
Being there

Stairs sigh differently coming home

Blind search for a key hole
I could die searching!
the frustrations of the blind
the fumblings of “locked out!”
I—
know where to go....

Pretend
in my warm lonely
fling—mittens on the table
Survey the ***** dishes...and
close my eyes
There's been nothing but wind and cold for several days here.  Makes me think of January, almost, when walking in snow below 10 degrees F actually does squeal and squeak.  We're getin' there.
 Nov 2016
South-by-Southwest
Before the dawn's display
Before the rooster calls
And horses neigh
Hot coffee on my breath
Wearing an old hat
that's old as death
I set out in silence
Into the dark
Full of grit/pure providence

Wearing a backpack
Full of life

I cross the faceless row
Feel empty blackness as it weeps
Dark moon has the sun in tow
As the cold icy air
catches on my lungs
Freezing my nasal hair

The frost makes step unsure
I cross the boardwalk
The distance is my lure
I came prepared
I came to my senses
I feel freedom in the cold freezing air

Wearing a backpack
Full of life
Next page