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 May 2017 Snehith Kumbla
Gidgette
String pickers,
violinists
Poets
Bad Boys
The lot of you
We fall in Love
with you
a thousand times a day
We listen to your songs
poems
Voices,
over and over
Common thread in crystals
cloud bursts of feeling
that you each sharpen
daily
You
Bad Boys Of Poetry
You
cut we
black butterflies
and
dark diamond
poetesses
daily,
hourly
We butterfly bats
dance,
sing
write!
Yet,
you
Bad Boys Of Poetry
Still
Lie, there in
to your ownselves,
and say
"No one loves me,
I'm alone
Forgotten"
Well,
No.
We each see
as we wish
Pluck your strings!
Sing your songs!
But know,
you're LOVED
A thousand times a day
By black butterflies
and dark diamonds

Poetesses
~only a poetess
A
I can't begin to list you all. But Sir wca(Joshua), Fixative(My pan) Frais de(my sunny) Pagan Paul, Light House(my trey), Temperal Fugue(my Sidd), Natieve Son, Wordvango, Traveler(my Tim).
My bad boys of poetry, you are loved and adored. Thank you. I'd give you all a heart if the new format allowed it;)
 May 2017 Snehith Kumbla
Aeerdna
Unable to sleep
Though my eyes are so tired
From having to see all the pain
I pour in the mirror
Day by day.

(They've never felt better than the last time when your face was reflected in their blue shade).

I switch from side to side
In this bed where your absence
Makes me feel like I am in the middle of a snowstorm
While I'm trying to run from all those monsters
I once told you about.
The ones your voice would chase away at night
Just by calling and saying that everything is all right.

And

I miss the way your arms around me made me feel warm
On that Friday night
When the worst monster was the train taking me away from your side.

And I miss you.

But that's something I am not suppose to say.
Not now.
Not now that the Universe has decided
To place our hearts at a safe distance one from the other.

And under these layers of skin and flesh
I can feel my soul turning into a pile of dust
wearing the scent of your embrace.

After all,
I guess,
No distance is long enough
For a heart filled with longing.
and pain.
Embrace me, my sweet embraceable Dell
Embrace me, you irreplaceable Dell

Just one look at you, my Windows open up wide
You and you alone are always right by my side

I love all the Rom and Ram about you
Above all, I give a Dam about you

Don't be a naughty baby,
Do the magic that you do so well

My sweet unbreakable Dell
Just Fun  :)
A kite's distress call,
starved and thirsty,there she falls,
sun, calling shots.
on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.
650

Pain—has an Element of Blank—
It cannot recollect
When it begun—or if there were
A time when it was not—

It has no Future—but itself—
Its Infinite contain
Its Past—enlightened to perceive
New Periods—of Pain.
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