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What makes a poet ?
That was my thought
I mulled it over and
Came up with these oughts :

Late nights with
coffee , tea or beer
Perhaps harder stuff
Whiskey , smoke or gin clear

And the struggles and pain
as the birth is exclaimed
Blood , sweat and tears
Falling as hard as ice on rain

Confessionals made
As black on white page
Love , death , fears
Even extreme rage

One who struggles
with the a's and the's
Should one even use
The apostrophe

One who's words
Gel by the witching hour
Words full of promise  
Warnings so dour

But perhaps greatest of all
Before even the start
One must have
a true poet's heart
.

*Sadness invades
every corner left open
Ears falling deaf
to the thoughts that do scream
Heartbeats are breaking
in moments of worry
Tears on the edge
of a fracturing dream

Anguish now splintered
as window panes shatter
Closing the curtains
to fend off the fear
Still there is one,
hoping you will hold on too
Look in your heart
and you’ll find I am near

Taking your hand,
bringing light to the darkness
Trudging a path
so your feet do not bleed
Lifting you up
when your spirits are drowning
I will be there
in your moment of need

I am not much
just a friend who adores you
Taking your pain
as if it’s all my own
Heeding your call
nothing else it does matter
A long as I breathe
you are never alone
~

t'is some sorrow that cannot fade.
its inner sadness shuns the sun;
as hydra thrives in northward shade,
yet turns thy tearful drops to love.

she thy dark night's dew,
and from thy burning rain,
thy weeping cries of pain,
bears in brilliance, sunset hues.

attires her blooms in violet blues,
in soil giv’n she finds the way;
from alkaline, in colored sprays,
her floral pink she displays.

in acid of thy heavy tears,
she bears the blues of all thy fears;
and burnishes thy greying eyes,
with dazzling flame to lift thy sight.

she shows the inner strength that flows,
'neath bitter current lies resolve;
from teardrops come thy rainbow,
and morning dew in love absolves.

queen of mournful sighs,
she coronates thy dark of night;
from bitter groans she hope unfolds
she bears thy tears in floral jewels.

~

*post script.

(the hydra, more commonly, the hydrangea,
she rearranges her jeweled bouquet
based on her soil's pH.)

a beautiful post by Naimh, brought tears and this. i gift it to my dearest Becky, whose sorrow knows no bounds. and post it here dedicated to Naimh, apart from whose recent daily, i would not have known her sorrow. may it momentarily lift her sighs. and to the countless others, those i have come to know here, who share in this sad common bond... a mother’s loss; you have my deepest appreciation and concern for your ever-present tears, your unending sorrow... and your undying love!

please read Naimh's beautiful post, my inspiration, here:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1637667/the-lost-rose/
if interested in more on hydrangea coloration:  
http://www.espoma.com/landscaping/how-to-turn-pink-hydrangeas-blue/
Eddying currents
In its churning funnel face
Sea weeds swirl quivering
"do you suppose there is a moonflower
who faces the moon
just like the sunflower does to the sun?"

"you are the moon"
he said looking at me
"and I am your moonflower."
How did the Greek Pundit mark
The middle of a storyline
If time, space, and self are handmade,
If language is borderline,
If a lover knows not what love is,
And if a poem’s writer is its first line?

© LazharBouazzi, June 3, 2016
I pick dandelions
in the early spring
when I think of you
She loves me . . .

I cut the rose blooms
in the summer morn
And I am pricked
by the remembrance of you

I walk in the autumn gold
as I shuffle with the agony
of the memory
Yes I do

Now in my winter's demise
I wrap the cloth of your smile
around the cold heart's desire
that I once had for you

There will be no dandelions
this spring
No roses this summer
No leaves of autumn's color
Without the smile of you
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