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  • Farhana Rahman (4/30/2013 9:19:00 AM) Post reply

    Dying for the Blood Moon


    " Alone, alone, all, all alone,
    Alone on a wide wide sea!
    And never a saint took pity on
    My soul in agony."
    The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
    S.T.Coleridge

    Making you a portrait close to heart
    a farewell smile, kisses along with hug
    We did ourselves apart.

    Of love and lies or betrayal precise
    Hence, no gaming left..
    I, queen of Heart declare you " Death"

    Such black night with such bloody moon
    When spirits found a door..
    I announce thy doom.

    Eyes on eyes, lips open, glimpse of teeth
    Undressed chest, blood beneath
    Beating heart
    Trial is start

    Love and death
    Remained choices open
    Second you chose
    Death granted as a token


    I left you alone
    under the bluish black sky
    The blood moon remained
    As witness to cry!

  • Farhana Rahman (4/30/2013 9:16:00 AM) Post reply

    Dying for the Blood Moon


    " Alone, alone, all, all alone,
    Alone on a wide wide sea!
    And never a saint took pity
    on My soul in agony."
    The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, S.T.Coleridge


    Making you a portrait close to heart
    a farewell smile, kisses along with hug
    We did ourselves apart.


    Of love and lies or betrayal precise
    Hence, no gaming left..
    I, queen of Heart declare you " Death"


    Such black night with such bloody moon
    When spirits found a door..
    I announce thy doom.


    Eyes on eyes, lips open, glimpse of teeth
    Undressed chest, blood beneath
    Beating heart
    Trial is start


    Love and death
    Remained choices open
    Second you chose
    Death granted as a token
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .


    I left you alone under the bluish black sky
    The blood moon remained
    As witness to cry!

  • Savannah Oakes (4/29/2013 5:30:00 PM) Post reply

    Daydreaming

    I took it all to heart,
    each hasty smile,
    every modest gesture,
    each syllable of dispassionate word,
    to a stage where even I was persuaded,
    the rays veiling your face,
    in perfect symmetry,
    were by your own hand.

    Hell—you were the rays, as you were
    the smile, the gesture, and the word.
    Everything created, then destroyed
    by your own unadulterated hand.
    Such feats you could reach.
    I coveted you so,
    for what were you incapable?
    —but all only in my sight.

    Now I mistrust.
    There are words I thought were spoken
    and actions I thought were displayed
    by you—but also me.
    Illusions and Trickery
    by me—but not you.
    I see it now:
    how you were a dream,
    borne of a skeptic in dangerous reverie.

    This guise I had burdened upon you,
    how could I be so thoughtless?
    For it had seemed,
    that when I said move
    —you moved.
    And when I said speak
    —you spoke.

    How does something appearing
    so concrete, so essential
    be confused with truth?
    How can you savor another's words
    and have them be your own?
    How could I be so selfish,
    with dreams of distant realms—
    but forget it.
    Happiness has gained on me,
    now knowing the best of truth.

    I hear no more whispers,
    no more apparitions of smiles,
    gestures, or words—
    no matter how hollow,
    cryptic or empty—
    such trivial necessities,
    conceived by a fool
    in want of an actor.

  • Adegbite Adeyinka (4/29/2013 3:17:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    A Fool's Errand

    In dreaded famish, he beckons his famulus,
    " Take a brisk walk down the stream;
    Buy me that delicious stimulus" ;
    As he was starting to lose his dream.
    On wind's wings he floated away;
    Down the road he vanished from sight
    The hungry begins to measure his way
    A second's waste could hasten a fright.

    Galloping down the slippery road;
    He steps on a plump croaking toad,
    Stops a moment to mourn the dead
    And wrapped it in a colourful thread.
    He stuffs it in his brown leather bag
    Bearing his Master's monster tag;
    That little moment he's thrown awake
    Fetch the meal and the Master, wake.

    The hand on the wall is past his fear
    His ensemble shrugs off his wrinkly skin
    He hopes Chufuna is dead or near
    It matters now he's not his kin.
    Discomfort sunk him in a chair
    Daylight hurries from the clouds
    The weather he sees outside is fair
    His gentle patience fury beclouds.

    The vendor serves him in a piece of cloth
    Attentions whisked off by a naked thief
    He stole meats from a farmer's broth
    His back his whipped till its grief.
    " This scene so gory,
    I must tell Magacula the story" .
    He bolts like a fuel tank torched,
    On the desk lies the cloth untouched.

    Magacula is weary
    Whispers the gods to spare his life
    His sight on Chufuna is bleary
    But hears him mumble his walk of strife.
    Thud!
    He wakes his Master up. His shoes hissing mud.
    He picks the bag in a careful tread
    And hands him his 'meal' in a colourful thread.

    Replies for this message:
    • Yusuf Qomor Olusola (5/28/2013 7:13:00 AM) Post reply

      Though, haven't got the total massage of this poem, All I can just say is that, It is an advance poem. if you can just breve me the theme of the poem, it'll be of more glad to me. Thanks! THE LAW

  • Adegbite Adeyinka (4/28/2013 3:29:00 PM) Post reply

    Like A Rose

    She wears a fragrance so refreshing
    Her gentle countenance sparks a light;
    Beauty clasps her skin like a fleshing
    Her allure no one dares fight.

    Whenever she smiles, a merry band plays
    If I say, she signals it stale
    So much I've heard their replays
    Still my words bear a tale.

    Thus, I treat her like a rose
    She sees not the beauty I behold,
    If I write a poem or prose;
    The truth I have yet untold.

  • Savannah Oakes (4/27/2013 1:14:00 PM) Post reply

    Daydreaming

    I took it all to heart,
    each hasty smile,
    every modest gesture,
    each syllable of dispassionate word,
    to a stage where even I was persuaded,
    the rays veiling your face,
    in perfect symmetry,
    were by your own hand.

    Hell—you were the rays, as you were
    the smile, the gesture, and the word.
    Everything created, then destroyed
    by your own unadulterated hand.
    Such feats you could reach.
    I coveted you so,
    for what were you incapable?
    —but all only in my sight.

    Now I mistrust.
    There are words I thought were spoken
    and actions I thought were displayed
    by you—but also me.
    Illusions and Trickery
    by me—but not you.
    I see it now:
    how you were a dream,
    borne of a skeptic in dangerous reverie.

    This guise I had burdened upon you,
    how could I be so thoughtless?
    For it had seemed,
    that when I said move
    —you moved.
    And when I said speak
    —you spoke.

    How does something appearing
    so concrete, so essential
    be confused with truth?
    How can you savor another's words
    and have them be your own?
    How could I be so selfish,
    with dreams of distant realms—
    but forget it.
    Happiness has gained on me,
    now knowing the best of truth.

    I hear no more whispers,
    no more apparitions of smiles,
    gestures, or words—
    no matter how hollow,
    cryptic or empty—
    such trivial necessities,
    conceived by a fool
    in want of an actor.

  • Jessie Knaggs (4/25/2013 3:40:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Finally Free

    He asks for life
    Yet he prays for death
    Wants to be loved
    But prays to be hated
    Asks for the truth
    But is scared of the answers
    Tired of fighting
    Tired of the pain
    Then one night
    He breaks and says
    No more
    As he slides the knife across his wrist
    He laughs
    He smiles
    He crys
    He's finally free

    Replies for this message:
  • Jessie Knaggs (4/25/2013 1:48:00 PM) Post reply

    No More Running

    You don't have to run anymore
    I'll be with with you as you face your past
    As you kill the demons from your past
    Don't cry
    Don't falter
    That fear makes you strong
    Strong enough to face anything
    They can never beat you
    Never take you down
    Because they'll never know
    They'll never see
    How much you had to fight
    To be able to stumble into the sunlight
    You will fly high
    Above the clouds
    Away from those who hurt you
    Don't let them see your fear
    Show strength and courage
    Hold fast and stay strong against the dark
    I'll hold your hand and lead you to the light

  • Savannah Oakes (4/21/2013 10:18:00 PM) Post reply

    A Brisk Walk

    Midnight on a winding street
    air still as the grave
    no danger lurking
    no signs of wake

    You swagger on
    gingerly to the left
    then suddenly—
    a hand is in your hand
    hot breath against your cheek
    a whisper in your ear:

    “My love, my light
    come lie with me.
    We'll meet at great new heights
    where you will be set free
    from hands that bind
    to a land of bliss,
    so you won't but mind
    as you float down the abyss.”

    With no note of dissent
    no sigh, no frown, nor shake
    you are whisked away,
    taking steady steps and deep breaths
    to the hole where you shall lay.

    When finally you do arrive
    you're beckoned to lie down
    you stumble in, burrowing
    careful not to make a sound.

    Morning comes, but not the sun,
    Eyes search, but nothing found.
    Hands grasp at dirt, nails rake on stone
    at this new burial ground.

    Screaming does no good
    nor fight, nor will, nor pain
    you are here and here for good
    because doth wed the night
    and the night doth betrayed.

    “Away now morning light,
    Farewell bitter day!
    Soon we will reunite,
    perhaps from inner fray.
    So beat your drums,
    grapple in spite,
    measure your sums.
    Forget this little slight,
    For tomorrow comes! ”

    So lie down,
    calm, secure
    make most of this fine bed
    you've dug yourself out of
    time and time again.

    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-brisk-walk/

  • Savannah Oakes (4/21/2013 10:17:00 PM) Post reply

    If I Had Ten More Minutes

    If I had ten more minutes
    And my voice was not faint
    Nor my face so devoid
    Or my mind so blank
    I would profess—

    But I'm afraid of words
    Which might betray lips,
    For what is kept
    is of my eyes,
    that impulsive organ,
    I've attempted to stray:
    hooded, hazed.

    Construing a montage
    ever playing:
    concerns, worries
    fears, and doubts,
    Come to life
    in bursting light
    whilst straining in the dark.

    And if such creations
    could speak—
    or better
    could be heard—
    through the mist of passion
    And masks of pride,

    I would profess
    All in my heart;
    Every quaint murmur
    Forsaken night and night.

    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-i-had-ten-more-minutes/

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