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If there was ever a time

If there was ever a time to put your words on display

National Poetry Day is the time to use your voice to say

What is in your heart

What do you feel

Reveal the emotions -at inner play.

Don’t admonish your words merely to paper

Don’t admonish your words merely to your mind

Shout out: I’m worthy. What I’ve to say is enough for today and another and another and ..

National poetry is for more than one day

Make each one count

Not merely the words you deem fit to convey

Your worth is more than hiding away behind myriad of masks to please those who get in your way

Your words are worth more than those whom you justify your truth without causing affray.

Your life story : Not merely poignant

Make your impression

Make your mark

I’m here to stay for more than a moment

more than a hashtag.

Use your words

Use your voice

To guide you to a better life -your way

For better or for worse

You are brave

So, seize your day

Its Okay.

Folds of skin

A poetry work in motion.

Hope-2021

Here I stand

On a mountain 🗻 of solid gold

Praise be for the choices I’ve made.

The toxicity of my past ends with recriminations with my inner foe

Self-respect glimmers

Good riddance to the self-destruction of the days now old

A clean closet reveals a door ajar

Bestows

a journey of new beginnings

If I vow to lift the cloak of doubt

Find the courage to replace it with hope.

A night before Ebony

Ebony’s shadowed legs followed like bone ivory music notes.

Umbrellas at dawn

No longer will the vampires mourn when each and everyone’s turn

Becomes an endeavour

Becomes closer to a pawn of the bloodless, pastry Underworld.

Fangs serve no required love

Unless

For the hearts that break

fastly

Under the tombstones engraved with dear forlorn amours.

Vials and trials make for complicated aisles.

Stephen Hawking’s shadow couldn’t blacken the suns holy masquerade without a tentative backhanded smile.

Flatulent legs pass an accordion player drowning out the tears of the past crystal nachts denial.

The fish bone corset of his lover – bygone

Weaved into a weathered, once feathered basket to uphold her now skeletal dignity,

A patched-up virgin awoken

A red sealed cockerel

His scarlet fever only breaks

out at night.

Nothing makes sense.

Not the severed maimed gingerbread men

Nor the black pudding

Nor the books written after the King’s night well spent.

Those paltry pawns of Christmas past climbed up the stairs on a general’s stare.

A goose-step march without all the trimmings

Merely a one-armed procured letter bitten off a one-off affair.

The traitor of Ebony’s moonlight dalliance wasn’t in his devilish dance on his journey

It was in the faces of his pseudo, mutilated, unvaccinated bastard offspring

Of each adultress, he gazed upon with an unassuming leer.

The crypt

I’m craving for a time when the snow would level me out

From the bathtub bottled gin

That takes 20 minutes of focusing the mind to open

Fatigued

I need a lie down before I put the bicarb salts to indulge my sins

I sit here dying my hair

I don’t want to disintergate this mortal skin

I know won’t compromise

The equations

They won’t grant me a dividend.

In the positivity I feel when my nonsense brings me more clarity

No disparities

The urge to give in to that initial rush.

Knowing that skiing the slopes of the cold rush

will end in a broken arm

A splinter to embarrass my ego

Show me up in a self-delusional femur propped up in a white cast in a sling.

Won’t humour my smile or bodily akin.

Write to recover

Write to reform

No, reaffirm I’m better without my foes

I used to call my brethren l.

I’m better

Now

I’m better now

Don’t ruin it

For brief a 30 second thought I sniffed out as win-win

Situation

Within

Actions become our past

Experiences

The future can make it count without losing an ounce of my heart to the demons of the crypt.

I won’t sin.

These are my words 2

These are my words

Daisy not a death sentence

D utifully fights death with hope
A ccepts pain will help shed its old purpose
I n light it seeks for a rebirth – instincts prevail
S adness embrace – for loss will lead to freedom
Y esterday is a forget me not – a death sentence.

A girl’s introspection reflection

She lived a life of colour.
She lived a life of dull.

Throughout her life, she learned
That her desire for instant thrills

Having seen her become a woman who is miraculously
still alive!

Not a corpse waiting for her family to visit her grave mourning what life dispensed.

If her spirit inspired her desire to live as a dissident against the traditionalist life of her own free will.

10 days she was in a coma.

Today, she is alive and her perspective has changed on time,
on her ability to process the strength

She needs to draw upon less selfishness

to make life joyful for the ones who taught her that it’s okay to forget,

It’s okay to lose her way,
It’s all okay,

even when
She decides to instil what her children will impart

whether they take her advice seriously… Or on a whim.

I rise

I rise because I now see I am strong

I weep for the girl who once believed I was wrong,

Because others didn’t understand I was born with this face

It’s not because of my race.

I don’t have William fish syndrome.

I’m a woman with a heart as vast as the seven seas

The cost of investing in wasting time on vapid entities,

Taught me a lesson

Taught me how to rise up session after session.

I rise because I know I get it wrong, I admit!

I no longer weep for the girl I once was

For if it were the devil’s tears that once made me smile
Temporarily,

Now I know I am a woman who seeks to live a life more worthwhile.