There she stands
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender
Precariously she balances.
I reach out for her
Draw her to me
My hand skims her body
Slowly reaching her skirt.
Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.
Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.
Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.
Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.
Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.
Dusk calls out to the Goddess of the night,
coaxing her over tree tops, she's shining bright.
Within tonight's twilight, her white light is full,
the one evening of each passing month
when she drops the veils of mystery,
exposing her true beauty for all to see.
Luna is my spiritual mistress of the witching hour,
cooling off the tempers of my Sun's burning power.
Enraptured by her teasing splendor,
as she flirts with night creatures.
When she becomes a perfect circle
dancing across the velvet dome of night,
showing off her full, pale, curvaceous might,
these are the very moments
that the primal animal inside,
patiently waits for,
with a building, beastly crescendo.
I watch the Goddess of the night
disrobe amongst the jealous stars,
flaunting her suspenseful bloom,
causing the very darkness to swoon.
Gentle light of the moon
caresses my skin as a lover,
filling up the spider's web above
with a ghostly, incandescent glow,
that hypnotizes me with a glimmering flow
of passionate, gleaming brilliance -
slowing down earthly time
for just a moment's soft brush
of a pulling, tidal communion.
*Inspired by Dr. Ram Mehta's "Luna- The Goddess of the Moon" contest
What is it to hear a poem?
I struggle to listen when such words cut open
my head and try to make a nest out of my brain.
I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR A POEM!
My body jolts under these straps of limitation,
tightened by my ability to hear.
Why must one be limited to hear a poem?
I cast out stones towards those who care to listen.
Why don’t we be the poem?
Climb inside the mouth of a poem and
understand it’s true voice.
Be the pen kicking fiercely at the paper,
leaving behind marks of genius and creativity.
Rip open the heart of a poem and suck its
Feel a poem.
Be a poem.
Live a poem.
See words rise from the paper,
as they dance between the strings
of your heart.
Grab a hand of the message and twirl
it around your mind and smother its
meaning with praise.
Curl up inside the dot of an ‘i’.
Slide across an ‘l’ and mold it into a ‘t’.
Travel across an empty plain were stubborn
Attack black and white ideas with shades
of blue and green.
Drive a sword through their hearts and leave
them dead to what is known.
Fight a poem.
Hurt a poem.
Heal a poem.
Turn the waste of sound into
vibrant waves of belief and inspiration.
Let yourself be swept away by
imagination and surrealism.
Find your soul inside of a poem and
claim it as your own.
Bring down the fortress of structure and
make its remains into martyrs of lost cause.
Open the doors of a poem and remodel
NO! I do not want to hear a poem!
It sends pain through my soul to see the
voice of a poem silenced by the ignorant
dangers of sound.
Help yourself and plug your ears.
Visualize the words through serene images of
beauty cultured by unmatchable craft.
See a poem.
Grab a poem.
Know a poem.
Be influenced by a poem.
Learn a poem and all of its meanings.
Threaten a poem.
Scare a poem.
Stab a poem.
Teach it how to live amongst a world of vultures,
hungry for mistakes and misinterpretations.
Guide a poem into a building filled
with a million little fingers.
Like a poem.
Be touched by a poem.
Love a poem.
Show the world your insides.
Show them the words to your poem.
I am the spirit of satin stardust
and the antiquities of golden memories alive
I call to you from the rising warmth of the sun
and greet you in the misty morning light
I am the steady and rolling drum beat
echoing from the jagged heights above
I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters'
and the freedom birds of love
I rise above the white summer clouds
in lilting songs of grace
and roam with the western tail-winds
to take you home again
I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty
of love hope and faith
I have come to tell
Dedicated To P.D.
YOU ARE THE ENEMY OF MY PAIN
SOMEONE WHO IS A TRUE GOD SEND
EVEN THOUGH YOU LIVE SO FAR
YOU HAVE HEALED MY SCARS
A CHILD- LIKE INNOCENSE THAT YOU POSSESS
IS SOMETHING I LOVE AND I MUST CONFESS
THE WORLD HAS YET TO REALISE
SOMETHING THAT I VISUALIZE
FOR THEIR IS A DREAMER WHO CAN HYPNOTISE
THIS SLEEPY WORLD WITH HIS GOLDEN EYES
THE LIGHT IS HIDDEN IN HIS TRUE ART
SUPERSEDING THE OLD AND YOUNG HEARTS !
MY LOVER-ARTIST YOU HAVE CHANGED ME
AND THIS LOVE HAS NOW SET ME FREE
FROM THE SATANIC WORLD OF DARKNESS
NOW I HAVE FOUND SOLACE
IN YOUR POETRY...
I CAN BREATH THE FRESH AIR OF LIBERTY
AND SPEAK MY MIND WITH BREVITY
IN YOUR EYES I FOUND MY INNOCENCE
FOR YOU TAUGHT ME PATIENCE WITH PERSEVERANCE
MY LOVER I WISH TO DRINK YOUR SENSUOUS LIPS
LOVE YOU TILL THE MORNING KISS
I WOULD BECOME THE LINES OF YOUR PALM
HUG YOUR LOVE WITH MY OPEN ARMS....
Copyright 2011 by Smriti Jha
This is for a very very very very special person !
(Life is descriptive “We” The pages of it’s tell all journal)
The pen is mightier than the sword
In the world of art.
Like humans we create
Our own problems to solve.
The pen being limited,
Can only go as far as its ink will allow.
Once its flow has stopped, so will the pen
It’s thoughts, problems solutions and it’s once
Knowing all my dreams
Never to see them in my head
Knowing they are real
Bringing them life instead
Release my essence as a whole
Open my heart for all to know
Feel my emotions, hear my touch
Listen thoroughly for I don’t say much
As a thought is being born
One has exited memory
For when vocabulary can not exceed
Moving on my thoughts
Watch them proceed
The more dreams I live
The less need I try
Poetic soul with thoughts in mind
Carry on my words
Painting stills in time
Cloudless memories telling quite the story of
The higher I stand
The higher I will fall
The farther I will fall
The easier to fly
The easier to fly
The more poetic soul I will find.
(Life is descriptive “We” The pages of it’s tell all journal)
I chose not to live in a world of guilt,
I chose to know openly a world of chance.
A world of opportunity and values,
Where the world I know understands all,
Believes all and only fears what it can not accomplish.
My world accepts challenge with its inner strength fearing - never a thing.
My world is free to believe since now my mind is so truly open.
A truly open mind, one not to judge so quickly
One that accepts instead of expects
Eyes that see a story, instead of paint their fairytale picture
Eyes that would never re-arrange a story to cover a lie
Or make them self look like a hero in any way.
The peace I know may not be what you think
It is not a word to cover lies, but a way to discover truth
Peace is not a word of war, but a way of living
The peace I know is not a word; it is an understanding of ones true self.
The peace I know understands ones true self through non judgmental belief and strong inner being.
Peace may only be a word to some; maybe this is why they cannot see the true beauty that life offers them each day in a world with so much freedom.
There is a lady out there.
Who has stolen my heart.
Her poems have such insight.
They fill me with delight
Full of poignant thought.
Deep and true.
They catch my heart.
I am enthralled, by you.
I get a picture of you, every time.
Sitting there, making rhyme
Your every word.
Imprints my soul.
I read you. through and through.
What you write, is what you are.
Your thoughts, like a star,
I read you, like a book.
What you say, how you look.
Between the lines.
All the signs.
For My Children
I have cried so many tears
I have laughted over the years
I have given you my all
I've watched you stumble and seen you fall
and I try'ed to help you through it all
but now your grown and on your on
I hope you remember what you've learn
and teach your children all about heaven
and how much it takes to be a parent
I'm so proud this is true i want you to know
how much i love you
I once adorned you with style and grace
My God this truly is an atrocious place
My soul is worn and molded to you
This place is so surreal, yet it is true
Nothing but pain and fear now fills a face
That once polished me with style and grace
I now sit here upon this massive pile
How in the world can that Nazi smile?
As I sit here on this pile lonely and blue
I fear to think what has become of you
As I sit here upon this pile of deceit
I wish I could comfort your feet
Regardless of what these Nazi’s do
I’m so proud to have been your shoe