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 Oct 2020 Spriha Kant
Shadow
To spartan prose the years are turning,
Coquettish rhyme the years are spurning;
And I - I with a sigh confess -
I'm running after her much less,
My pen has lost its former pleasures
Of daubing fleeting leaves, it seems,
Today, quite different, chilling dreams;
Quite different unrelenting pressures,
In stillness or in social noise,
Disturb the sleep my soul enjoys.
 Oct 2020 Spriha Kant
Nicole
Alone and lost, appeared this saint,

With pretty gray eyes, darkness can’t taint.

He stole her from cold, from blustering storm,

Kind and gentle, he took her from harm.

Fearful of dark, he created her light,

A jar of gold, chasing demons of night.

Telling stories of love, he brought to her life,

A moment by his side: no pain, no strife.

He gifted her poems, a gesture on whim,

With every word read, she could see only him.

She counted the days until he returned home,

The boy with his light, the girl not alone.

Invisible to all, a shade wandering in dark,

He brought back her faith, with his pure kind heart.
Stench of decayingwords
Piled deep within me
Repulsing my soul
Burning a hole
In my heart
Waiting to be released
Nothing emerges
Tears of long ago
Have driven away
The desire to let go
Only ashes remain
 Oct 2020 Spriha Kant
Nicole
Lonely
 Oct 2020 Spriha Kant
Nicole
Knees tucked to my chest
Wrap me in barbed wire and
Squeeze until I bleed
Until there's nothing left of me

Hang me by my feet
From the ceiling like a centerpiece
Make me useful and beautiful
Give purpose to this emptiness

Blood droplets beat the table
Let it soak in and stain the wood crimson
Call it art and leave it visible
Claim this mess we made intentional

When the rot begins to set
Just coat me in resin and metal
Bring worth to this worthlessness
Give this broken life eternal purpose
We write poems like ants in colonies.
We submit our jewel here and hope
for the front page. I'm hanging on.
I wait for the phone to ring or the
letter in the mailbox but I feel like
I'm playing the lottery with my
submissions. Billion to one chance.
nature is so
easily buried

beneath the
artifacts of man

their rules are
my structure

and I walk in
straight lines

and I step on
no cracks

but I know
when I meet you

you will change me
you will set me free

we will have a
relationship

like the wolf
and the moon
She had the heart of a daisy...
White as milk, fluttering in the breeze, smelling of the scent of the earth...

And yet it was broken by the cruel heat of the one she called her sun...

Since then she had taken to wandering above the soil in search of her lost happiness...

How often she visited those wild flowers to pacify her blazing wilderness...!

Under a cobalt sky... Beyond ochre thoughts and grey memories... She lay one with them... As if sharing with them the moments and torments of her yesterday...

This kind of love healed her... Where even the fallen petals could be adorned on  rippling hairs...

No wonder she had got back her self...
From being a daisy... Drowning to death and being born anew as the same...

How beautiful was when the flowers had whispered that when life hurts love heals and when love hurts nature heals!
The healing hand of nature! 🌿🍃Thank you for reading this! ❤
 Sep 2020 Spriha Kant
neth jones
rolled over in dreams
            by victorious crocodile
lulled into baffled breath
            to be fed into life
a wake
fresh out of death

wrangled in bedsheets
            i fit back to sleep
a saturated berth
storage
  to become a softer meat
drown side up
             in a ***** swollen river

       - 04:21 a.m.
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