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Noandy Feb 2015
Drag my eyes and dig my hope
Arrange the corpses and lit the flowers
Ruin our poetry and forsaken divine journeys

Lavish our time in varnished vanity
Incinerate the path you walk upon,

though nothing could come to any light—
Go find the hearts you had murdered.

The wind blew your tongue; colder your tears
Your dancing fingers and palms still talk of sun
And soon saturated your old ash driven hair
Into raindrop roots of forestry rhymes

Some of the rhymes were of your smile
Colored only by a single weary verse
To unravel the waves of your 7th ghost
which was
Just a picture for us to caress—

In the absence of sly soul and slacking slashes.

The pictures shall never fit the wooden frame
Carved by the sharp words you wrote by the heat
And the sympathetic sword you caress before the pages
Of travelling letters never yet to come.

And so I ask,

How long have my eyes been fasting
Drifted away from your grim outline
Questions I ask, is this an omen or mere silence
To welcome the storm I have yet encountered?

Ah,

Rustling wind shall tell no more
You would never have your hair and shadows back
Agonizing the pain we never had
None will have our verses and our wandering

Oh,

And I should learn to forget
Learn to regret
Learn to heed
Learn to bleed.
Atiya Ebony Dec 2014
My mind wonders too often to a place beyond here ~atiyaebony
Just sharing
Ranjini Malhotra Dec 2014
ghagras twirling
               veils swirling 
                                   anklets tinkling
silver at her neck
how she adorns herself!
regal as a queen
but cannot conceal
her banjara soul


gypsy blood flows in her veins
a thousand stars alight upon her veil
fuchsia and orange set fire to the dusk
twilight is thick with her magic
she sways with the grace of a peacock
bends like a willow to the breeze
dances in celebration of her soul
her smile a universal knowing


none can slow her pace
beauty this wild leaves only a trace
slips airily past eyes
drunk with desire
to beguile the moon in his heaven


she answers the call of the wanderer within
casts only laughter on the restless wind
this desert rose
this woman child
this gypsy queen
this banjara
This poem is called Banjara. The Banjara are a colorful group of nomadic people found in India in the states of Rajasthan, Gujarat, and Madhya Pradesh and in Sindh Province in Pakistan. They are often called the gypsies of India. (source Wikipedia). Banjara women are often beautifully dressed.
NeroameeAlucard Dec 2014
Rolling in the car
family by my side
looking out the window
watching other journeys pass me by
On the pharcyde I see
another kid liking through the window at me our eyes locked I was shocked I was looking at a younger me
maybe I'm traveling down the highway
but in the rearview are my memories
Just something to think about... Ya know?
Kenshō Dec 2014
Embody the world!
Dream into creation!
Your touch will comfort like carpeted grass.
Your voice like the wind and streams of peace.
Your breathe like lemon grass herb, warm and sweet.
Your mind like the mountains and clouds of the wanderer.

This man walks with poncho, satchel and cane.
He claims no wisdom and wars over no land.
He saddles the wind and chants to the Gods of ever-last.
Trailing only is a smokey film produced by his pipe of eternal life.

Modest is the heart of a good man;
Keen are the eyes and consciousness.
A natural fortitude are the roots of a clean soul;
Spread are the arms of success upon a mountain.
Survey the landscapes of history,
The beautiful transforming of this world,
Divine in its nature!
~~~
Sometimes to utter the sounds
of love back as an echo hurts.
It hurts as your silence
sits at the edge of a hurricane.
Slowly swallowing every part of
your joints till you stumble in weakness.

Your agony-an unending chaos,
Like your beating heart-
Your chest rises and falls like the waves
in the midst of twilight,
as you breathe just to feel alive.
You belong nowhere,
Yet you run and bump into the wild unknowns.
Sometimes, you are like the forest fire,
adding fiery red to the tranquil greenery.
Dawns comes by quickly
in the world you live in-
where you wipe off that colorful mask
and declare you are just a blank  masterpiece.

These insecurities-defines darkness inside out.
Born with every broken nerves,
and sometimes with newly found scars.
They burn and heal from far,
as I build these high towers of mine.
You see lover, to be a wanderer
I have to spell freedom with my own breath.
So don't hold me down,
Let me fly.
Even if you can't be there
to hold me tight,
at least watch how I fall
from great heights.
kRose Nov 2014
And this wandering
soul will not know where home is
until it's found you.
To the person I will one day marry,
this ones for you.
Rafael Melendez Nov 2014
The crystalline water, so clear and so calming. A wash so deeply needed, a cleaning of my sins and hardships. An ocean of wonders and ravishings, a vagabond at last had found his dear home.
My fickle heart is confused.

For it longs for a place to call home, but much like a drone
It aimlessly drops bombs while moving along

My fickle heart is confused.

For it never had a reason to stop and stay
Much like the wind, it prefers to swing and sway

My fickle heart is confused.

For it's familiar with the motions of its ever-changing cruise
But you came along its path, and stopped it in its tracks

My fickle heart was confused.

Changing its beat while it roamed a few feet,
And then it met you, found love and it's muse

My heart is no longer confused.

A wanderer in every sense
The moment it found you was its biggest suspense

It was you all along, the words to my song
My heart remained still ever since

*-Bobbie Leigh
The moment you realize you've found the one.
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