I do not know?
Inspiration where do you go when
you leave and your dry, barren
riverbed causes blinding dust storms in
my mind? Do you evaporate into
mist, become a gray dense fog
lying heavily in the air, intangible…
floating like a cloud, ever
changing shapes? Are you carried
by the wind, held hostage
to feed another storm when
lightening strikes and your deluge
once again swells the
river to overflowing, racing
free and wild, reaching
out beyond all boundaries?
If so, storm
of inspiration please
deliver unto me
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
Contest: “I Do Not Know”
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Sandra Haight
Featuring:) Giorgio Veneto
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
In deep thought
About things of
I wonder aloud
Solutions not clear
Which is always
Tied to many
I stop now—
And look heavenward
Choices are difficult
I’m staying focused.
Use my intuition
Request divine help
Take your pick
My soul’s focus
First and foremost
God speaks silently
Do it now!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 27, 2015) (Accentual Meter)
Copyright © Gary Bateman
The red rose may be beautiful or grand
Sensual even LOVELY.
THEN....I strolled the garden BLUE
I saw the INDIGO ROSE
The BLUEST I had ever seen
A TEASING picture of the
The blue ROSE is EXOTIC, she feeds
The WINSOME ROSE shame with
Professional precision on a petal plate
Of pleasing purity.
Shades of BRILLIANT blue FLASH ACROSS A MOVIE
SCREEN BLUE VIXEN SUPREME
She sends the entire garden into bland oblivion.
A blue diamond glimmering in a GOLDEN heaven.
All other roses WILT of envy clamoring at her
Heels with CONGESTED JEALOUSLY.
When I set eyes upon this ROSE it so inspired me
To see what had not been seen.
The INDIGO GARDEN and all its splendor
THE IMMEASURABLE SOUL OF THE
MAGNETIC practically hypnotizing
These are the INDIGO GARDEN guarded
Secrets I've been knowing
THE INDIGO WAY
ALWAYS THE INDIGO ROSE FOREVER
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER
What playground does not hold the magic lure
Of see-saws firmly braced upon their stands?
What child resists excitement, felt for sure
In ups and downs: the hard thump when he lands
And surging thrill of bouncing up again—
To know that when he's hit that lowest low,
It's followed by a swing to new heights when
He'll know once more the joy of that plateau?
In contrast of the see-saw truth is found,
For truly, were it stable, it would bore
The simplest mind; for only from the ground
Does grandeur of the heavens make its score.
For only in imbalances we feel
The balance that keeps life on even keel.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: My Favourite Forms – Haibun or Sonnet
Sponsor: Heather Ober
Contest: Teeter-Totter: Balance the Load
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Copyright © Sandra Haight
In this world of Uncertainties
I’m the man that you can trust
And in my words of sincerity
That my love would never last.
And if you could only feel, what i feel for you
You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth
Like our love that tightens the rope,
Like a light that would give us hope.
As you watch the dark skies
Let me grab the moon for you,
And as I catch the bright stars
That’s the way you can see me through
As this planet turns as it always will
And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel
Hold my hand for it will make us strong
Like a wind, we will carry on
The wind blow that sings a hymn for you
For they know what does love means for the two
Love is blind, and not deaf
So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet?
In this poem with full of rhymes,
A full of love, Babe can you be mine?
I don’t expect too much from you
Why should I? If you complete my whole.
“Till death do us part” that’s what they have said
But why do struggles crash them ahead?
Don’t ask me when my love will last,
To count all of our quarrels, is that a must?
Now and Forever is all that I promise
No day dreaming and without reminiscence
As the matter of time, as the time passes by
Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :)
pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless
Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana
Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.
From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're seeing,
To everything out of sight.
The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.
The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred ring.
Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.
Copyright © ness tillson
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
Who can hear, the mornings call?
The dead dove's body, as it des fall.
Who can see through, the dead man's eyes?
As the burning sun, falls from the skies.
What once was new, has now become old,
What once was alive, has now become cold,
What you believed, was worth a lot,
Is burnt to ashes, in the melting pot.
Let's start again, I hear them say,
Let's start again, another day,
Let's make again, what we made before,
Spill more blood, on the kitchen floor,
Lift the cross, up on the hill,
Load the guns, to fight and kill.
Fight and slaughter, till there's non one left,
Till your mind is empty, your heart is deaf,
You thought that, I was a soldier too,
You thought that I said, I love you,
But I tell you now, and I tell it true,
The angles of heaven, and the angels of hell,
Are riding now, to the ring of deaths bell.
What you thought, was silver and gold,
Are ashes and dust, on the open road,
What you knew was good, what you knew was true,
The hot sun has dried, like the morning dew,
The very memory, of hope and despair,
Is lost in the hole, of your soul laid bare.
The empty hole, behind the clouds,
The music and the laughing crowds,
Are dead and gone, have faded away,
As a new sun rises, on a bright new day,
I tell you now, and I tell you true,
As the hammer of me hits the anvil of you
Copyright © ness tillson
I feel like I am fading away to nothing,
blending into an ordinary crowd,
where no one even notices me anymore.
Like an April snowflake, freely falling, landing on warm cement.
And, fading away with a short existence.
Or, an August raindrop in a passing storm,
dripping onto dry, weathered porch steps,
soaking into the wood grain, absorbing the very life of me.
Eventually leaving nothing behind.
Or like autumn leaves,
that once shined like gold in an October sunset,
now slowly withering and drifting to the ground
only to be raked aside,
or blown away to who knows where.
I feel like I am fading away to nothing.
A reflection in a mirror, that I can no longer recognize.
I don't want to be forgotten, especially to myself.
Like a lost spirit that no one can see, or even knows exists.
I'm dying out like the last spark of a flickering candle.
And evaporating into thin air like melting wax.
Like a piece of colored paper left in the sun's rays,
losing it's original brilliance, day by day,
the longer it is left there,
like no one cares about it anymore.
Or more like a bright helium balloon that escaped
from a crying child's hand
drifting away and out of my reach, gone with the wind
And, disappearing into the clouds forever.
Fading away to nothing.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler
Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage
Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb
The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default
The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship
Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock
Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7
Copyright © Gideon Foli
Struggles and success,
Sufferings and happiness,
Dreams and Goals building to life;
Like colours of the rainbow making light.
A blessed day for you my dear readers :) Cheer Up, God bless
Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana
My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played,
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A lonely path,
I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,
So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth,
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.
Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.
I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.
The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.
The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.
So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.
That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.
The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.
more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Copyright © ness tillson
Hook: Here's the truth. We gon shine. Yung MCs and that's no lie. Coming up. To our door. Yea we got them flows galore. (Repeat x4) Verse: Guess who just jumped on the phone. Riding to a new metronome. With his sickish flows. He's hysterical. So scientific, alchemical. And everyone knows I'm genuine. I'm stacking do like innuen. Time for you to tell all your friends that this yung mc is stepping in. The rap game poor. Needs a switch in economics. Cuz a lot of these suckas still talking bout the chronic. Youthful intelligence, call it Malcolm in the middle. You old brothers sit down. Try to learn to widdle. Cuz these yung MCs gonna leave you frikazied. We a whole new breed. Give the people what they need. We a brand new sound. From a dusty ghost town. Reborn from the ashes. It had burned to the ground. This yung brother yurns. For the world to hears his words. Because the rap nowadays is so absurd. But I assure you this. When I walk into the room. Put my mouth to the mic. And straight up kill it on a tune. I'll come with a style that'll match any vet. Rhymes way swift 5 blade like Gillette. The level I stand will never be met. Cuz you fly bird. Yet I fly jet. And honestly when we on the scene you hear the sickest similes. Slicing beats with symmetry that cause the haters ears to bleed. I take the light you try to keep. Cuz all your words are obsolete. It's night-night. Time to sleep. Close the crypt. Rest in peace.
Copyright © Julian Miles
Keeping your mind,
healthy and open
and taking that big step
through the opportunity door;
you’ll find going up,
the career ladder, easy.
It’s not always easy,
to keep and open mind.
Going straight up
the ladder, opens
many possibilities; open doors
lay at the top, of the steps.
You may not be taking steps;
the climb up so many floors, is not easy.
The illusive door
of the human mind,
is hard to keep open.
Mind locks itself up.
Go ahead, limb on up,
take those steps;
many opportunities will open
and it will be easy,
for your mind,
to open its own door.
When elevators close their doors
and they glide slowly up;
as you get off, mind
your first foot step.
You’ll find it very easy,
any door to open.
The world is full of, open
You’ll find an easy
path, as you gradually rise up.
No one wants to go, back a step;
that thought alone, can open any clam shelled mind.
Secure files open, with a code, quite easily.
Through many a doorway; you’ll advance your steps.
Climbing success’s ladder upwards; is simply an act, of the mind.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt
I do not know?
You twisted and diseased creature
Deceitiful little lies your best feature
Slithering around like a snake
From my fantasy coma I awake
Into a much worse tragedy
Into a worse and cruel reality
Where you feel so at home
You decay my soul to the tone
Of your devil delivering laughter
Pushing my peace and mind farther
Into darkness where you dwell
My remaining light your Hell
I'm here to bring an end to your crooked ways
Forced to change wherever your demon lays
I won't stop until I bring you back to life
No longer in darkness full of delightful blithe
In the eyes of the sun shining up on you
My words in the end will prove all too true
This promise I make to you right now
See light in the dark I will show you how
Just open your pointed ears to me
A brighter world soon you will see
Copyright © Michael Scribner
Since time’s distant dawn
Men have told lies
Calling it truth
The facts, patronized.
But truth doth not jest
It is what it is
It’s the brim on a hat,
It’s a bride’s wedding dress.
Revered in our lives
Honest men we respect
For uttering truths
We’ve all come to expect.
Yet lies now made vogue
Scatter truth like the birds
And no handshake will do
To shore up men’s words.
So do well to respect
The integrity of sleuth
Pinpointing all lies
Shining light on untruth.
Just recall the pure facts
As they actually occurred
Lies have no one's back
And in the end
Only truth is remembered.
© Michael Wegman, 2014
Copyright © Michael Wegman
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Copyright © kj force
The eye,a sign the
unwise can't comprehend
Forged from the world's
illumination in darkened
enlightened ones like
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac
The eye is a tree
with many branches like
Priory of Scion,Knight
in all corners of earth.
The world is clothed
through wisdom from
The eye,all seeing
emblem of power and
riches to the lion hearted
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and
Creating the social order
through men of power....
Some see it as a
curse,others a blessing.
I feel it,the great eye is
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
In the midst of darkness descending
Stillness seems to overtake sound,
Allowing moments for deep thought
in this mirror of solitude.
I tend to reminisce on those dreams I
grab from the photogenic events of
Once touched, I’m taken back by the
moments that can’t be replaced.
So during this moment of tranquility;
I pray no external force interrupts
The calm waters in my mind.
Lucky for me, it’s a reoccurring dream;
And as vivid as these fantasies are,
None compare to the peaceful illusions
of family gatherings.
It was only yesterday, when I illustrated thoughts
of a child,
Always curious of that deep ocean floor,
Where familiar kin paint their residence ;
I was an eyewitness to many overlooked
areas within my family’s ocean.
Yet with many pieces missing as a result of
loved ones ascending to a higher cause,
This puzzle remains incomplete until that
However in these possible moments
I’m a child again touching the fabric
of my influential past.
As I continue this unforgettable daydream,
I ask again for no interruption;
For with every reminiscent moment,
I know of myself better and what I
could be in a tangible future.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons
I look at myself in the puddle
That laid just below my feet
Yet when I look at the watery mirror
I see a different reflection of myself.
The person in the reflection
Is a different person of confidence
Someone that is brave and bold
With a bright smile on her face.
She has her head held high
Ready to take on the world
Looking toward a bright future
As she leaves tomorrow behind.
When I look down at her,
Is she looking up at me?
Am I just the tails of the coin,
While she is the head?
Am I just a figment
Of what I was before
That this reflection
Is the aftermath of growth?
Could this be who I am?
Is this woman the real me?
The me I am meant to be?
Or a possible me?
Yet when I looked closely
I could see that the one
Staring back at me
With a confidence smile
Was me...I am that woman.
The reflection in the puddle
Is the me that I am
The one with a smile on her face
Filled with bravery and confidence.
The real me, a figment
I am one and the same
In reality and in the puddle
This is the real me.
Copyright © Megan Ryan
There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home
Copyright © Jesse James Forster
He wants to say "I love you,"
But keeps it to "Goodnight."
Because love would mean some falling,
and she's afraid of heights.
Copyright © Tyler Kisner
TO MOVE FORWARD
TO MOTIVATE OTHERS
FOR EMPOWERMENT VIA NON-PROFIT
TO ACHIEVE WHAT HAS BEEN SAID TO BE IMPOSSIBLE!
Is there a greater focus to determine a greater faith?
Why ask, if you are living the best way?
TO STEP-TO-THE CAUSE
TO BE A POLITICAL POWERHOUSE
TO PROVIDE MOTIVATION
TO INSPIRE A NATION
What is your focus to be?
I ask because a destiny is perceived.
TO BE TO DO
TO LOVE TO LIVE
TO QUEST TO ACHIEVE
TO SEEK TO DEFINE
TO FIND TO SEEK OUT
TO ESTABLISH TO ASCERTAIN
What questions have you not ask?
Bringing forth this knowledge is to introspect.
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 15, 2014!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker
Excuse me Miss
I have no intention of harming your shade,
But the seat you left vacant for me is rather
Absent of roses I could finally romance into
smelling, absent of yin that could relax urges that
might present a stroke, 70 chapters later.
For some esoteric reason, this seat you’ve
manipulated into occupying until tomorrow’s
departure seems stable;
It has no opposition in waiting.
So please Miss, introduce your window seat to
me, ever so kindly.
You see the seat you offered in due time, does
not welcome smiles. It’s cold, unfulfilling skin leaves
me cautious; the torn fabric has failed my thoughts
of safely time and time again.
Hope won’t join my travels while married to this seat.
I’m left contemplating questions of whether this
is my sedentary companion for the next 100 years?
But what is perhaps defined from amazing, is the
glimpse you hold dominant in this seat.
You’ve’ held this arrogant glow upon the leather,
with no remorse for the penniless seat fillers.
The carelessness of sight unvisited through the
multitude of generations is the lowest insult one
can fathom; with no refund offered as of yet.
Miss, the window seat, please.
You see, beyond the significant glory the seat
There is a silence of worries I wish to court,
An everlasting view from peaceful quarters, that
never warrants a superficial return.
Specs without representation could meet their
potential, among the tranquil armchair.
That is why my passions advance today; for there
is a retreat looming.
Miss, I believe this is your exit.
Remember, change pauses for nobody’s unanswered
why. The knowing is what you will reap later.
Farewell, descending one.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons
I stand before the canvas of my life
with the arsenal of brushes I've been armed with
choosing the paints with which I'll work
My will is to paint the permanent
No watercolors that can wash
My strokes will stain the canvas true
In my art studio my brushes fire
Salvos of sultry reds
Volleys of vivacious violets
But I don't always paint alone
Others there are that share the studio
And though our canvases won't always hang together
A small army of artists are we
Who paint our lives with care
For all the world to see
The hues we use only we may choose
Brazen and bold, subtle, or stark
Soldiers of our arts
Aiming and striking and painting our hearts out
Until we die
And go to the Gallery
But as for me
I stand before the canvas of my life
And the brush is in my hand
Copyright © Brandi Elizabeth Brown
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By Deborah Finneran :) 2013
Copyright © Deborah Finneran
Running through the universe,
Looking for the light,
I found a broken rainbow,
Crying in the night.
I tried to glue it back again,
Fix it's bleeding heart,
But the circle had been broken,
Before it's song could start.
The push and pull of meaning,
Are tugging at my sleeve,
The million colours dancing,
In the cloth the weaver weaves.
Are burning in the darkness,
Burning in the night,
As the rainbow goes on crying,
Sinking out of sight.
And now I'm crying loneliness,
Crying on my knees,
The butterflies of emptiness,
Are dancing in the breeze.
Running through the universe,
Looking for your face,
I come back to the start again,
To find my tail I chase.
I know I've found my destiny,
I know that it is true,
The beginning and the end of it,
Is where we'll all meet you.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Copyright © ness tillson
I do not know?
Give me drink, rest, and solitude--
these are all the things I long for.
Give me as well your finest food
and I'll ask of you, lass, no more!
My bonnie lass, what's the matter--
why are you all sorry and alone?
Don't be sad because you're fatter
than most, lass, for love loves its own.
Sweet lass, I'll tell you a secret.
If I were a young lad again,
I'd pursue you without regret!
But as I am three-score and ten
years old, indeed, I can never
be the youthful lad you most need.
But your pain won't be for ever:
for your heart will refuse to bleed.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen