Tori Beals


Inspired - Poem by Tori Beals

Hidden glances filled their lives,
and fight fulfilled with throwing knives,
the dance of conquer before their eyes.
They lie in wait to overtake,
and strike the final blow
of victory, who will it be?
In a darkened alley just below.
He pounces to go for the kill,
but something stopped his blade.
He stayed his hand, and helped her stand
and the world began to fade.
His whole life had been spent on her.
Trying to kill and murder, not assure
himself that she was the enemy,
and while he hesitated she
tackled him to the ground,
a dagger to his throat, but when
she looked in his eyes, she found
nothing vile anymore, she took away
her scratched up blade, threw it at the wall.
And wondered how he saw her now
then let her teardrops fall.
His embrace was complete and sound.
She cried for days for fear and harm
their fight had caused to them.
And they found each other then.
He and she, pure enemies, now everlasting friends.
And then the sadness was all gone,
they could finally move on.
Pure bliss and brainsick peacefulness
of a brand new life had dawned.
He tickled her and she tickled him,
and they laughed as the tickling taught,
the sounds wrought from their core,
ha-ha-ha merrianglin obstructed sought
their hearts cackle that bout the added giggle-gaggle
as their unnamed heartstrings wiggle-waggled
betwixt pure passion tagged with fury-rings,
tangled with unschooled love, caught
as its stagger accused of ravages thoughts,
which covet their insanity and uttered, sings
of adoration.
The merrianglin ceased to craze,
but taught them of a veiled gaze,
and hailed them toward erratic ways.
Her lunatic heart wish'd he'd stay,
but his moonstruck head rejects all strays.
And as her soul walked away, she asked
to see his heart unmasked and stole
a pleading look he cast, toward his love.
Could she ever understand that his madness,
his wild hands, are damaged, careless,
and beyond demand? Only pain
awaited the daft who dared to love
the stain that his whole life'd become.
And why - oh why - was that passion clove
in her hand as he turned and dove.
An addled giggle in his throat,
and muttered words so fast he choked.
Poured out love and smiled at her,
for right now and for what comes after:
Eternal Love with eternal Laughter.


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Langston Hughes

Dreams



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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 23, 2012

Poem Edited: Wednesday, January 25, 2012


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