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Dying Star

The day is fading fast.
The tired skies rub its heavy eyes.
The solar blast will rest at last, in view of twilights hue.
Seeking a falling star in the cosmos far.
I do not wish upon its fate, what destiny will it create?
Dark silhouettes and other luminous matter the nebula has scattered.
Just a piece of the distant world circling from now till time is done.
Are we alone, do others struggle to atone?
I have many places I could be, yet, I gaze within the wonder of the open sky.

Tiger-like

I haven't seen you lately
On days like this I reminisce
We used to be a garden where
The sun burned through the river mist

I do not utter words so raw
Or unsophisticated that
The garden paths we once trod
Could ever be winter clad

Nor can I conjure with my hands
The times we found all around
Without even trying, you and I
Like echo I return to sound

I wait there, a jungle cat,
A predator of words devoured
By the cadence of your speech
Heard above the murmuring crowd

455 Years Ago (23 April) arrived Shakespeare

We all know and so celebrate a living ICON.

No stars***** please
In front of him we stand
as dwarfs
ALL

Stratford-Upon –Avon …455 YEARS AGO
The bard
Ladies and Gentlemen
Today some 455 years away
An infant was born
to become the Bard
Who’d
never be forgotten
by not only Stratford –Upon- Avon
but
The entire world

Such souls come once
in one’s life time
to live
In the hearts of memorable humanity
for times immemorial

Every Emotion

Like the laws of gravity,

The pull of planets
Around a sun,
The rush of water
Over a precipice:

We are meant to live
A life of
Every emotion.

If we numb ourselves
By day,
Avoid conversation,
Control our environments,
Or choose not to choose
Any type
Of adventure,

Our dreams at night
Betray us
In multicolor.

Even if it is grey scale,
The feelings
Are hardly muted.

Strangers and friends
Co-mingle,

Islands

She cannot unknot the knots
She tied in me with glee
Nor bottle up the laughter
When it's loosened in me

She cannot uproot the roots
Grown from amorous seeds
Sown in the fertile soil
Of her wild island needs

Nor can she tolerate
The casting of my eyes
In directions directed
By assemblies of lies

She does not like distances
Nor circumferences known
To inhabit her islands
So she sows her seeds at home

izheu Triano (yankee poet)

At times we feel so proud
that we are
the greatest
of all human beings
of creativity

till we discover
ourselves
once for all
and
finally

Mr.Triano

I created the word
and thought
until
thereafter
when
I perused
Google
the word already existed
as a surname

American

Ode to a coat ( April Contest )

Not just a coat

It hangs there limply in the hall
All dirty with soil, fence paint and more
Should have thrown it away, long time ago
That’s a laugh, It fits me just so.

The weather is usually the same, maybe rain
I need protection from that wet cold again.
My lovely coat now a gardener’s robe.
I should have thrown it away, I've been told.

Ode to Early Flowers (April Contest)

As early flowers blush and bloom
The weary hearts long for a roam
Away from where once lived the gloom
As early flowers blush and bloom
I rush with thrush out there to loom
And bring the warmth back up to home
Where weary hearts long for a roam
Where early flowers blush and bloom

Light My Way... [April contest]

Hail to the lamp that shows the way
From the early lights
Made with sticks and hay

Flames contained in bowls of oil
Wicks made from cloth
Rolled in a coil

Lamps that shone on vellum bleached
Light to see by
While concepts reached

Flames reflected in shining glass
Tended and fed
Fuels of fat or gas

Lightning trapped in the wire
Loosed with a switch
Burning, sunlike fire

Oh flames of blue, white and yellow
I see the light
Guide this fellow

Eyes With No Girl (with audio)

Join me in the danse macabre,
my dear,
to the music of my creatures
of the everlasting night.
You are fair enough,
dark enough
your black velvet handcuffs
haul me into
an inversion
of romance,
the pain comes first,
the joy thereafter
seen only by
the eyes with no girl,
all in remembrance.

The road to death is petalled with regrets
and the scent of sensual sin
lingers... a caress within.

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