There is a town that doesn’t sleep.
It’s calling me deep unto deep.
I see stars wasting,
Glory heads became story birds.
White house and black seeds.
I didn’t call it weed.
Where is that flirt town?
That took our daughters with a frown.
Turned them to lifeless skirts
Naked is the new shirt. – Rachel Charles
Nature’s orchestra plays loud
The two little winged guys grow into a crowd
All seeking attention
Each asking to go first
That long night of apprehension
Angels, demons, muse each with a huge thirst
Darkness about, bright light bulbs inside
Who’ll be crushed when darkness and light collide
Sun fades away, quieting the city
Everything nosedives into clarity. Tee2emm
A heaven of mild moans
Something about glass houses and stones
A dark daylight
A safe landing for fiery fairy flight
An only son-
Imagined, assumed, raped, done!
A frozen sun
Breaking into bits to dawn
Meanwhile in the wild…
The roar of a new born child. Leon
Like tortured souls in flight
Some days pass as night
like legacies of lecherous fathers
Some Suns bear dark shades
At this time, poets soul search
for tombstones of former deaths
Totems of previous existence
Waters to fuel mortal thirst
For miracles, for visions
And nights, quiet, like Pharaohs embalmed in gold!
Side by side
Yearning for the ride
The moon seeping through the drapes
Kisses, tasting like small grapes
Wishes with the luxury of horses
Butterflies moving in pleasured forces
A night to remember to forget
One that is void of regret
This Quietness has a story to tell
About how the day rose and night fell
With no injury on the head or toe
A jolly good fellow with no foe
Cuddling the gentleness of silence
On a street full of empty presence
Occupied by street lights and shadows
Whose helping hands are shallow
The story of the Night
Whose noise was never heard.-Bangwan.
We all go through many stuff
sometimes naked mind shoot like bang, bang puff.
They are a rainbow of fortune or fraud
taking on hushed moments to move on.
My thoughts need a lantern to also feed
and starve the darkness, pain and fluffy sin.
When the night has talked to a crescent moon
it’s a sign for me to let go by noon.
Where this reticent lips whisper
is where I am supposed to sleep sweet. – Ruddapoet
Silence lay tucked in over the land
Brooding, pensive thought on every hand
Something was bartered for what no one wants
A soul, a heart, a tear and mere victuals.
With one willful stroke of pen
Done again and again
The play was done and the ball was dropped.
Touchdown was called.
Victory was won.
But the silence here is a cruel ton. -Seun
Time scarred by slow movements
Wishes waned in the moments
And my pen came to life
Resuscitated by the calm within
Still notes steal countless themes
Open minded, come winds of December
Fervently seeking a piece to render
In this sacred romance with letters
Unsolicited thoughts attended
Wave the wand for a memorabilia. Vera