Winter is so cold,

And I can feel that I am growing old.

Where are you, my fire?

Why aren’t you here?

Summer isn’t that hot,

When I think of you a lot.

Tell me, are you just hiding?

At least tell me, do you wear my ring?

I can hear the people say,

It is raining hard everyday

Maybe it is true,

But not more than when I cry, thinking of you.

Autumn has left the town with leaves everywhere;

I know you have disappeared, but in my heart, you are always there

I have now understood that our love is no more than a lie,

But why can’t I forget you, oh tell me why!

Everything has changed in spring,

Every tree, every plant, every sapling

But it is only me, not blossomed, although grown

Still seeking for a guy unknown.

The monsters

under my bed protect me

from everything

that loves me

I lay curled

hand over the edge

waiting for them to hold it

so I may go back to sleep

Their claws against my skin

and teeth against my throat

send shivers down my spine at night

and make me feel alive

So I lay still and silent,

eyes open in the dark,

waiting for my monsters

to chase away sweet thoughts

I may only sleep at night

when monsters from beneath my bed

have sworn an oath to keep me safe

from everything that loves me

The sheets are off, my skin is cold,

my daytime fears surround me

telling me to close my eyes

and think of being lonely

Eyes cracked, mouth open

breathing in their breath,

I sing along to songs they sing

and slowly drift to sleep

Night after night

drunk on fear and cold

I’m hanging on to all my fears

and dying at their mercy

Yet still I let

the monsters under my bed

protect me from

everything that loves me

People are afraid of dark

When the faint light it allows

Is the new hope

To a new path.

Cause

Dark is

A whisper of fear

But the voice of courage;

A space for the broken

But home to dawn anew;

People say no to silent future

And prefer to drag deafening past

When all it brings is

Taruma over time.

See

Silence as

Art of patience

Language of wisdom;

Scream of a vintage soul

Oath of a divine heart;

People step back

To believe destiny life chooses

And start to complain

They never had a proper end to meet.

Choose

To believe

World around is serene

With many helping hands;

Life is a heavenly karaoke

With your loved lyrics;

In The Darkest Times.

When The Light Fades Away.

The Truth Shall Set Me Free.

And Break The Illusions From Me.

#poetry #life #quotes #poems.

©Alipoetry, All Rights Reserved.

if you like to see the video of this poem, visit my youtube channel. shorturl.at/tR369

I have literally never experienced such an excruciating headache ever before in my life as I have in this current moment.

As of now I am sitting in front of my laptop screen staring at the brightness with bloodshot eyes, cradling my head with both hands while my fingers pull at my hair at the mishap that has occurred.

How on earth did I get this drunk? I only remember getting to the club, dancing with one guy and then nothing. Nada. Just the exhilarating memory of his tanned arms wrapped around my torso playing in my head like a broken record. Who even was the guy? Did I get his name? Or a phone number maybe? I rummaged around in my purse only to find a note that said in graceful, slanted handwriting: “We will meet again, mi amor.” I crumpled it up and threw it on the ground. Thanks for the help, genius.

My apartment looked appalling to say the least. A heap of clothes lay on the floor my dressing table a mess from the night before and shoes of all shapes and sizes scattered around the place. But that was the least of my concerns. What was most concerning was the numerous pictures on my Instagram account circling the Internet like wildfire.

36 likes and an onslaught of hypocritical comments.

Wow. Okay.

The very first thing I did was delete them. Then I went through the camera roll. Oh god.

There were pictures of my mouth overflowing with what looked like a bottle of vodka in my hand, my cleavage shining and proudly out and about on display but still covering the important bits. The next was a series of blurred pictures filled with cheeky smiles and boisterous laughter, the faces spreading wide across the screen.

I clicked on the last picture and zoomed in on each of the ruggedly handsome faces. I knew none of them but together we looked like a gang of very attractive best friends with the way we were hugging each other, pearly whites adorning our faces.

All of a sudden my phone shot up from its discharge induced sleep and wouldn’t stop blinking. I thought it would commit suicide by buzzing right off the table.

“Looks like someone had a rough night lmao”

“Wow, partying hard huh?”

“Whose the hottie on the left?”

Thank god it was just my friends poking fun at me. I was not ready to face the criticism just yet. I was in too much pain to be angry at this point.

I sighed and flopped on to my bed wishing the earth would just swallow me up. How. Embarrassing. Also I had my cousins on Instagram. Would they tell my family?

I let out a slew of curses and got to dialing them but then I remembered they must still be sleeping cause of the time difference. I’ll just leave them a message when I get this headache off my back I thought to myself and got back up to get a glass of water.

Could this day get any worse?

A chime was rung 

and you drew out this

box....

it was crushed red velvet, 

and it was heart-shaped and 

it gave the world space...

Would the earth goddess deny and negate

or would she trace

Her bluish finger on your nameplate 

In her dark ecstatic fashion?

Pull out tiny black drawers

holding treasures...

giving clues to the

aventuras del corazón 

dark reds, deep greens

oranges and purples

Earth goddess guide her

Where to go from here

Labyrinth Lady lift her...

Where does she now fit?

The clouds cushioned

the abrase

of matter...

against the scarred

far side of the face

brown and spring...

between the steppes that span the toothless horizon’s grin

swept with circular whisps

like a peace pipe emits...

In the westward wind

you planted kidney

beans...

little lungs of vitamins

for the children to breath

as flowers and seeds of spirited good will...

words that take root in their very being with just a tear,

amidst the dust of someday’s 

cleaning...

Armadura de amor

she hummed the tune that the

pins on the revolving cylinder

should pick and sing...

plucking the teeth of the steel comb that grazed the skin

she knew the melody

by heart

even as it lay still...

the pen ran with sanguine ink and there was no deficit

...across the continent.

The Old Ones remembered it well where their youth had

denounced their ancient ways, but still the magic laid

inherently frozen for any wise acre who dared

take the mantle, and beg the light to shine back down...

...There will always be a break in time for those who make

a revelation which will heal the world...

Sometimes it seems internal,

but the healing will unfurl,

and though it seems quite painful

like the thorn that pierced the paw,

one must extract this menace,

and allow old ice to thaw.

A chime was rung 

and you drew out this

box....

it was crushed red velvet, 

and it was heart-shaped and 

it gave the world space...

Would the earth goddess deny and negate or would she trace

Her bluish finger on your nameplate 

In her dark ecstatic fashion?

©

1/13/21

Bunny &

Mavia &

Ann Villaire

Yes I do have a faveorite post that I never thought got enough attention.

I always thought my post The Gloomy Fall was really clever, but didn’t get much attention. In fact, I’m pretty sure I went back to that post weeks after writing it, and did a mass tag, which I had just learned how to do. I was very new at this point.

I also thought my short story called Under the lights parts one and two was underratted, and to be honest, I don’t think my posts Blessings, or Broken Rewrite deserved as much credit as they were given.

It’s a rainy day in New York

Quite the same as yesterday

it seems to me as though

everyday just feels the same

It might- be- the way, you look, in the rain

Yeah

It might-be-the way, the rain falls down your cheek

Like a tear that drifted away from home

Everyday

Feels quite the same way

As long as your here

I could care less what they say

that the weather might not change

and that might be nice

it might be nice

nothin changes here

cause

The way you look in the rain doesn’t change by the day

Your as beautiful as yesterday and its,

something

I’ll pull you close to me

With the umbrella over our heads

I’ll let you know you haven’t changed

much like the rain

in New York

on any- given- day-

This tale is based on a song by The Police called ‘Tea In The Sahara’ that I’ve always found sad, strange and especially cruel. Long before I began writing these stories I always suspected the young man in the song was a time traveler for who else could do such a terrible thing..?

A young time traveler, as of yet unused to and therefore unable to fully comprehend the complexity of unrestrained movement in the fourth dimension, once visited a planet.

It is a strange and isolating thing to exist outside of time and can lead to a certain hubris that far exceeds normal human capacity.

The planet had kind, gorgeous skies in shades of green and sparkling desert dunes of diamonds dust. Upon it, he met two sisters.

Similar in age and lonely and bored he was novel, new, exciting and fun. He would occasionally appear at times in their life when they needed him most or when it was nice.

He made some of their birthdays and when one of them had kids but he never looked older he just knew more clever tricks.

On one of his visits he appeared in a machine the likes of which the sisters never had seen.

It could fly in the air and this delighted them so, they developed a desire, knowing he’d say yes, came to him with their bizarre request.

What they wanted to do was go out to the dunes and have a picnic of sorts on the shining diamond sands by the light of their world’s two moons.

So one night they flew out together in his plane and picnicked and danced, had tea and played games.

Since his travels began he never had so much fun so he made a promise to them when their party was done that he would return once every year and they go back to the dunes to celebrate.

On the first anniversary of their night on the sand they went out to await his approach over the land with such anticipation and anxious glee they felt as young as they were when they had first been seen by their, wonderous, unusual friend.

After some time when he had not yet arrived they went further out to find him at the place they had dined that singular, amazing night.

They waited until the sun became high in the beautiful green of their world’s friendly sky. But as it grew dark and he had not yet appeared the sisters grew worried and began to fear. Where was the man and why hadn’t he come? He had promised he would but he’d never return and that was not good.

The traveler’s mind was not yet adept at keeping track of all the people he’d met. Traveling through time was like reading many books at once.

Returning to chapters and picking up where one left off was all well and good for the reader but for the others involved time still goes on and this is where the young time traveler had gone horribly wrong.

For he never again picked up this particular book and on the dunes of their world left the sisters to die. Crying, wondering and asking him why...

@Rosemadle

There must be

Some unheard, unseen fairy

Like Tinker Bell

Flying ’round

Sprinkling pixiedust

Turning ordinary beauty

Into a wonderland

Of golden leaves

Red trees

Orange squashes

Nature’s confetti

After a long, hard year

Falling gently down

And as it drifts

I stop and stare

My heart

The selfish thing

Turns to the beauty without

Letting me see

The good in others

And the beauty all around

Turning my desires

And thoughts

And actions

Just like the trees

To gold