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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
11/13/2017 10:33:29 AM

PRIDE YANU
Posts: 1
THE COLOUR OF SIN
On a dusky holiday evening,
When the bustle and hustle of city life is left behind,
Salty water flows in-between his fingers
Dangling from a yatch rocking the waves,
Somewhere in the Mediterranean.
The ripples answer the giggle of a little pearl
Jumping on the laps of a twitchy daddy
Lost in thoughts and reflections.
Trying to draw a line,
Between the lies that save men
From the jeopardies of the unspoken truth,
And the truths that destroy the legacy of great men.
Counting how often he stood on that line
And wondering why once
He did cross, admitting to a truth
That caused him his family.
A sea bird flusters the mirage of her beauty;
Twisting her lips behind the fast disappearing sun,
Into a smile that would bear semblance
To the crescent of a would-be moon.
Placing her cute dimples upon her forehead,
And leaving her face dancing in undulation.
The white of her eyes matches the hue of the heavens
Into which he stares deep and sees goodness,
In a white unblemished around the black of her iris
Sharp in contrast to the ones that stared back
In the morning mirror on his wall.
Excitedly she points at the wandering sky
Falling off at the oval edge of the world.
Pulling his beard and asking
Why he doesn’t live with mummy.
There he stands again,
Legs astride of that line,
The truth of his infidelity urges him
But he lies and his eyes get brushed a new shade.
That which would not be washed away
By a river of tears from years of remorse.
The indelible colour of sin
Paints the eyes of the sinner
With shades of red
That thickens with every new iniquity.





THE COLOUR OF SIN
On a dusky holiday evening,
When the bustle and hustle of city life is left behind,
Salty water flows in-between his fingers
Dangling from a yatch rocking the waves,
Somewhere in the Mediterranean.
The ripples answer the giggle of a little pearl
Jumping on the laps of a twitchy daddy
Lost in thoughts and reflections.
Trying to draw a line,
Between the lies that save men
From the jeopardies of the unspoken truth,
And the truths that destroy the legacy of great men.
Counting how often he stood on that line
And wondering why once
He did cross, admitting to a truth
That caused him his family.
A sea bird flusters the mirage of her beauty;
Twisting her lips behind the fast disappearing sun,
Into a smile that would bear semblance
To the crescent of a would-be moon.
Placing her cute dimples upon her forehead,
And leaving her face dancing in undulation.
The white of her eyes matches the hue of the heavens
Into which he stares deep and sees goodness,
In a white unblemished around the black of her iris
Sharp in contrast to the ones that stared back
In the morning mirror on his wall.
Excitedly she points at the wandering sky
Falling off at the oval edge of the world.
Pulling his beard and asking
Why he doesn’t live with mummy.
There he stands again,
Legs astride of that line,
The truth of his infidelity urges him
But he lies and his eyes get brushed a new shade.
That which would not be washed away
By a river of tears from years of remorse.
The indelible colour of sin
Paints the eyes of the sinner
With shades of red
That thickens with every new iniquity.





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