Poetry Language

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Twilight

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Twilight came soaked with different colors,
Amber, orange, red, gold and distilled purple,
It was shimmering and spectacular against the blue sky,
It seemed to suggest and remind me the beauty of living

The rhythm of the soft breeze passed through the lone tree,
It seemed to carry delicious secrets to the naked branches,
For the naked branches swayed instinctively from side to side,
Spreading the intoxicating rhythm slowly to my trusting soul

The intricacies of the setting sun were reflected in the flower petals,
The majesty of the light that shone through them centered my heart,
They seemed to teach me how to cope with the storms in my life,
That truth was bigger than all the mysterious shadows I’d ever seen

The sun’s low orange candle carried warmth that I could only imagine,
It was strange and carried a quality that I could never give a name to,
For that quality permitted my transparent reflections to live and thrive,
And unburden myself of all the hurt, worries and suck aspirations

The tree indicated an innate dignity that was free of any pride,
That is what kept it alive despite being dishonored time after time,
A quality that came naturally like the warmth of the rising sun,
Abyss of desires washed through my body as I sucked in the moment,

That moment was magical
It was peaceful,
It was wild,
It was unrestricted,
And I desired for a quiet continuity…

 

Illicit Rendezvous

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I longed for my illicit rendezvous
To wave goodbye to all the noises,
The shrieking words without a heart,
Those that created hell of heaven,

Litany of lies was spread everywhere,
It was the accepted religion,
That everyone risked offending,
Yet it alluded the most faithful

I craved and raved to push myself away,
To seek the perfection of my own reality,
For that is my knowledge of true self,
And because of freedom…I had let me be

I needed my present, my life to take priority over history,
And visit my illicit rendezvous with the naked tree,
Beneath the blackened grey sky,
And not gloss over pride customs,
Nor ethical standards

For how hurtful can it be?
Accepting a life chained by blinding faith,
A life lived beneath hideous masks,
Feeling hurt moment after moment,
Its distorted visage is horrifying!