Day: August 25, 2015

Wind dismays

Apples hang low near the ground.
robins chirrup all around.
sun on glowing maple leaves
gives a red glow that deceives.

Autumn air is flowing near,
though it's still bright summer here.
wind dismays the flowering rose
as with arrogance it blows.

Leave me one flower for my eyes.
Leave me roses,as I sigh.
Leave me not my dearest one.
Soon enough we shall be gone.

What remains is love alone.
If your heart is not of stone,
Fear not sorrow,fear not woe.
Into this earth all must go.

The journey

Signs and symbols guide the route.

Love gives the soul her appetite.
Though the night is black and starless,
The inner guide is never careless.
The notes are struck,the tune is played,
Plain melodies are overlaid.
In this chant and benediction,
Healing comes for desolation.

Though the passage way is narrow,
This pathway is the one to follow.
Struggling through the mud and mire,
We see in darkness tongues of fire.
The sacred centre of our life
Is never found without some strife.
With faith, the dark and light combine,
To create a symbol  in the mind

Free post modern poem

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

I love you,oh,my little black dog.
Oh,yes!Bloop bong.
Thwack.
I love this pit,I do really.
Bang bong.
No, do not help me
I am
Fay
ted.
My narrative went wrong.
Oh,whoopla!
Now he has deleted me from his
Sto
Ry!
He wants me to disappear.
Mama meea Blong!
But I have my own narrative
La banko dio
Bloop bung.
My heart longs.
For his love alone
is a sad storee.
Oh eh a mama dip thong
Jer bum long
I love my white dove
But he hates me.
Ah,ah, it's time for some Wagner.
I hate it!
Screaming women
Get off me!
Oh,cupid!
I feel you are lucid.
He hates me
Blang

Cherry tree branches

Cracks in the pavement
Look like rivers approaching
an estuary.

Natural beauty,
the shapes and forms wandering,
sanctifies the road.

Cherry trees branches,
A wide canopy of leaves,
Blossom blows away

Sung geometry,
held still and made eternal,
Catches at my throat.

Casualities of War

A very moving poem

sinrenter's avatarI rent you some sin

It is not my rotting body that feeling hurt, it is my heart which hoping to see just a glimpse of your hair.

Your dead body below me,
covered in dirty soil
5 meter distance between us,
I know you will definitely back.

They saw bullet peel your brain off,
You were screaming my name
What a pain to remember me,
they said on your ‘last moment,’
but I know you will definitely back.

Been a hundred years,
My potion keeping my soul to stay at my body,
Death is lesser pain.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait,
I’ll wait until you regain your live,
until you regain your body back,
Until your brain back to one perfect piece,
I’ll have so many potion to have a long live,
To have a long wait, to make sure one day I see you
Back being live again.

That time I’ll rant to you,

View original post 15 more words

To you who are not here

How like a prison is my cubicle
How wary is  my body on this chair.
How still my heart and yet how strangely fickle.
How fast it flies to you who are not here.

How elegant your letters and your thoughts
How gentle was your touch upon my throat.
And yet you killed  my words and all the sense  I brought
You loved me not,but like a wasp did gloat

As in this mental jail I'm  tightly  trapped,
I'll use my time to write and make my prayer.
Perhaps my mind can extricate a map..
From which I'll plot the route to get away.

The prisons which seem external are inside
Yet in such captive grief so many  die.

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I love my own image

KODAK Digital Still Camera

KODAK Digital Still Camera

I love to look into a mirror

My face glows with  bright yellow skincream

I love my own image

Even  time ravaged

I wonder when I’ll be made Queen.

I  bought some shapeware for fat women

As my  round  bits are  all falling down

Now my bum  protrubes off the cuff;

And  my  breasts  look like a stiff ruff

I bought chafeless  cycling shorts last week

And went for a ride in the woods.

The gynaecologist saw  my shorts

She  made sardonic remarks.

So my cheeks are all  reddened with blood.

She told  me that I’ve got anaemia

Yet my irony  level is high.

There are 400  different types

Pernicious sounds just  right.

I must go and tell my old Guy

My dead husband does not know nothing

He’s in the front room in a bag.

i had him cremated

Rght after we mated.

So now I’m a lonely old hag.

i could have got married to a doctor

And lived in a big detached house

Yet though he loved me so much

I left him in the lurch.

I now live with the church mouse.

P1000261

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I tell the truth just as I tell a lie

My mistress’ eye is like a currant bun

Though she has problems,she gets drunkon  wine

Her bosom  bared is bold out in the sun.

I hope that what his hers is also mine

My mistress eye does glow as it’s now glass

She lost her marbles playing with a fox

She’s good at letting errors whistle past

And mending fuses in that little box.

My mistress dear I gaze upon that breast.

I see her skin is warm for she does sweat.

Yes I have lusted and I have confessed

But now I feel my heart in concrete’s set.

In truth,I am as fickle as a fly

I tell the truth  just as I tell a lie.

Run

“Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.”
― Lauren Oliver, Delirium