BEAUTY DEFINES

Noticed this beauty well defined
Maybe it was meant to be so,
This is the real her
There is a great deal
Worth noting; her side burn,
Glossy and resembling
that of a Boran girl.
The slight wig of her
eye brews, clearly noticed
As natural yet well laid.
While her skin is
that of a true redhead fair.
A bit freckled on the tip
of her nose and her cheeks.
With the rest of her soft
and tender looking skin
being more of chocolate
than brown, I am amused
by the festive scattering
of the little brown flecks,
sprinkled as if by the
whim of a friendly fairy.
She has fashionably full lips
that are naturally
colourised. A natural,
blend of chocolate
and brown in a manner
as if by a beauty artist,
and a large round dark
and glittery, pretty
but emotionless eyes,
like those of a wax doll.
She is the beauty defined.

MEMENTO MORIE

he begs off today
in still silence
the breath and pulse
of the heart that bangs its walls
in fear and anxiety
the urge to move on
and crave for more breath
a peaceful sleep is all it takes
flagging up yellow to breath
flagging up white to sleep
easy and smooth pale smile
that jellies the face in cold tears
smooth groans, that engines the journey
across the curtains that divides
sleep from rest
eyes refuses to close
lighting out through the air
to grasp the glimpse of life so tight
still goes out to the chest to rest
and break from breath
to take a rest
pale face draws a smile
smile of victory won
of paradise got
with the same massage
memento morie

BLOODY MOON

Bloody moon groans for its own
One trail made to drain in the dark
And ears hurt by wails in the cry
The cries in the silent, nights, merciful cries
When fade does slate
Of death to date

The hovering winds in the dark nights
Cries when the other died
No storms but the ocean tides
Sing the sorrowful songs of the body laid
Laid to drink of it’s woeful belly

Stars delight no more
When palms and leaves, dew tear drops
And the wailing streams, blood drain,
Naked roots shames the trees
Whose, nostril stings with deaths, ashes

The sky’s solace’s clear
When clouds detest the warmth,
Losing grip to face the flock,
Flocking clouds, blocking mouths,
Shocking crowns; of bragging lords.
The bloody moon’s watching in ewe..

Of women crying and children dying,
Death’s spying, life’s praying
Justice delaying, justice denying
A million groans angels dying
Who owns the tombs, who loves the dying?

by Robie O Nson on Friday, August 19, 2011 at 2:04pm