December.

Mixed by the magic,
of blue and green.
Earth’s grandeur pours down,
beauty unseen.

Leaves rustle,
the grass dances gay.
Today’s Springs ambushes
death’s gateway.

Through passing time,
through changing resting places.
Replacing songs,
familiar faded faces.

I depart from my old skin,
under the majestic trees I’ll lay
as Earth’s clay canvas

By Bruised Melodies

Highlights

Are you among the group who thinks certain months comes with certain blessings?

This poem eulogies how embellished the atmosphere in which the month of December was created.

And how its rebirth forces all odds of life to keep it flourishing “through passing time” and a transfer of newness to him whenever he meets the presence of the month.

Poems of a Jamaican Girl.

https://pin.it/8N6kRgA

I can leave you

I swear

With Scalpel to my soul

The difference

between us and you

Leaves me as a whole

So Mask to face

And Fragrant Sevo

I’ll go under

Four , three, two…

Wether I wake

Or kiss turns blue

I’ll recover

Free from you

By Praiziz

Where are you?

WHERE ARE YOU?

In real life,

everyone is social.

loves going out,

has a lot of friends,

Can’t stop talking,

Cool

Fashionable.

 then you go online

and read blogs.

Suddenly everyone is shy,

Quiet

Introverted,

nerdy,

loves reading

Where are those people in real life?

#New Voice

SubconsciousΒ 

An Alarm clock

that could never be stopped

It goes off every  few minutes

So loud, 

So disturbing, 

Creating a cacophony

of ugly sounds.

Get a hammer.

Use it to smash the clock,

but nothing can break it;

Its too strong,                                               too powerful

Try to carry it                                                    and throw it out the window,                         but its too heavy.                                              remove the batteries?                                    It has no batteries.                                           It doesn’t need batteries.

        #Newvoice      

     

Poemspeak

Haunted

“How silly you are. Do you think that knowing the truth will help you get closure? Do you think that you will learn a valuable lesson and move in with your life? Oh dear no. Somethings are better left as a mystery piece. I warned you, remember? I kept locking all those secrets away to prevent any further damage, but no your curiosity wouldn’t let you go. So how dare you come to me telling me how you are chased by scary monsters when you fall asleep. You asked for this, now take responsibility for you decisions.”

#TheNewVoice.

Poemspeak

it’s so frustrating

when i ask a question

and receive the answer

to a completely different question.

be precise.

What colour is it?

Colours are interesting; some are dull.

some are bright.

but what colour is it?

colours bring life to the  canvas

BUT WHAT COLOUR IS IT?

I love colours

sigh.

By The New Voice

Poem Speak

 You are the wounded cat

walked with pains 

in the  heartbeat of a lion

You are truly a strong  misty  cologne 

Burning your  love 

in spicy humane care.  For you, see- my heart pray

with a rhythm of

Faith stronger than Rocks.  Oh!  I know not

If peace will find my soul

If  I and my hands fail

 to respray you bits

from the love you’ve spread  in your bleeding edge  Yet,

Would I know?  If Aspirin is a healer

Or heals The distance between

We- as it is as though,

Such a gap between

 a fan and a follower  a living and a dead

I’m blind,  I can’t see

If it is my sob for you,

Or my   prayer for you

That may wild stronger 

Wings to fly  

                  

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