Number3

40600

As a phoenix rises. Site Rank GENERAL
Total poems		182
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Sick Romance

CATEGORY

life

A familiar odour enticing the scent sensors.

Peaking through the narrow slit of the doorway.

Contemplation to if she is alone, or not as she thought... she has company.

Thoughts almost escape the clear mind as fear winds and dines on her reality.

Leaving a bitter 16, all natural beside the pink coloured, thick cotton, encapsulating her most female being.

In shock, her bare feet hidden between the hairy strands of a woolly rug, naturally responding to her natural instinct to contract, the toes grasp on, holding her comb in both hands as if its keeping her together.

The weather emphasising a dramatic scene, with the temperature spine chilling...no lightning but a cool summers rain.

If only she was outside, the tears would hide the little bit of pride she had.

Luckily, as she noticed, a ringtone that she knew as a young one, her uncles, he was walking the corridor.

Relieved, letting the stale oxygen she'd been holding in pounded chest, her heart eases, she relaxes.

Looks away, fixing her hair, the mirror shows.

Black beanie, dark shades, a blood curling smirk beneath her uncles old fashion moustache.

Black leather gloves grasping onto her wet skin...friction wasn't on her side as she was...man handled.

A white cloth racing to her mouth, catching her about to take a breath, tasting the material, the pungent fumes accompanying it were just too much...

Its all a blur after that.

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COMMENTS


		tretre says: I LOVE THIS!!!!! I hope you don't mind me sharing this one. Such a vivd poem. Beautiful work. Always keep that pen movin Number3! poems by this commentor I Wanna Know You: Poets & poetry Reflections Of The Oppressed:

OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Number3

Insomnia's haiku

The still of the night.

Tranquility, for a while.

Bl/Thiss, my only peace.

Together and then

In hopes of more.. In search of more.. We can't turn back! We can't go back. With the times past. With the times we grow. We can't turn it back so we turn it black! The African sun shimmers in the distance.. Our efforts linger on in the absence. With the sweat trickling down our backs.. So we embrace..with the Almighty's grace. To look evil right in the eye with all it's abhorrence. So that it too may look at our reverence. The dignity of the ebony shall remain throughout the coming eternity. Them who speak else utter blasphemy. U.n.i.t.y till we die.. Like the phoenix, from the ashes we rise.. Black love.

the Walls and the Diary

W: Never could I have imagined, beyond my wildest dreams, a beauty as such.

To my eyes and my heart.

Too much it seems.

As I’m left clueless in my means to express.

My love for my love…love baffles me.

D: “I don’t deserve you…” he says

~as she ponders on, her pen failing to jot down what she means to say~

W: Rightfully so…

For you are a woman deserving of a throne and a crown.

It should be!

I, a mere man can but only wish to give you this…

As my dreams foresee our future

Equally my dreams ‘dream’…

D: &...

We better with hope

On our knees.

...in belief.

We better end this tale with our hands clasped together.

With our heads bowed.

Let us not be at the end of our tether.

In the stormy weather...let us dance.

With our tears camoflauged, lets forgive and forget...with hope.

and Emerge...as we came into this world...once again.

in loves thougt, let us spill our emotins on its canvass and create beauty.

A new chapter in the continouence of our adventures.

Sing, chant and even whisper, to the most high.

Let our aspirations be known.

Striving for greatness in each other...

where the story begins...

She would close her eyes and cry

Alone

crouched in a corner she weeps.

she shivers in her own sweat.

she's drenched by the fear breathing aside her daily.

trails of tears run down her cheeks onto her sheets.

darkened spots begin to show.

her inner beauty, shattered and stepped upon, refuse to glow.

in disguise she's "sweet ol Mrs smiley face".

To us.

swaying from side to side, her cat walk keeps cats talking.

keeping heads turning and minds deliberating.

she seems all too perfect...

her beauties skin deep...too deep, her scars are just as real.

its spring time and she never reveals her knees, she's ashamed by her daily routine of kneeling.

her melanin exposed only to where it wouldn't look suspicious.

she's wearing a buttoned up collar in the blazing heat.

wrinkles around her neck drawing att...

Boulevard drama

One, we were, in a time before. With a desire for more. In a lonely boulevard, stretched our paths be. Like a puzzle, delicately laid, serendipity had materialised though yet, it was to be. . . In the audience of our counterparts, in a birthday suit of our truths, we were identified to be, one of a kind. If we were one to begin with. The myth of developing an emotional bond with a myth was a fact. In our fictional illusion of what reality is, taking a step back would be moving forward in our tar laid escapade. The past would be the future and vice versa, easier it could have been without knowledge of your existence. . . Of your charm, your beauty, nutty personality and. Carrying on... This road would never end. I would not rest. If not for your departure. The way would be misty with insecurity, ill-thoughts of a tragedy. If you were here with me. Gloomy things seem from the bright star gaze of your eyes, it seems unreal. I want to believe it isn't. . . Yet here ...

We are destined

Intrusting the universe to act as a catalyst. To bring us together and take us into an euphoria like state of bliss. With hope that it isn't all a big accident... unified random events provoking imminent unhappiness. Leaving us with regrets... reasons why we neglect "extraordinary" for simply perfect... with no view of what it could've been. So I trust the universe, to unwind this entanglement. To set forth its brilliance in coherence... You and I just might happen. In uncustomary events we could set alight our phoenix like feelings and rise. In a smoke screen, learning to listen, with our "seasoned" hearts, we'd barter in our sights for assurance that we two in the end will witness. What is and what can. So with the universe in constant motion. I, trusting in the notion that yes we are to be. Two souls as one, hand in hand, strolling in the sunset. Where we'd seemimgly forget. With our pupils locked, our hearts in a frenzy. In a daze, where days went by...

Writers Block - Slow Dance

In the dazzle, its you and I. Lately we haven't being seeing eye to eye. So let me lighten up the mood with the soothing sounds of my heart beat. To the beat, let's dance. Offering my open hand in hopes of a dance. My fingers elongated...attempting to reach. To build a bridge between my partner and I. So that, we too, can be one. The tingling sensation arousing my emotions. Causing my cerebral to spark abstract images. Of which I need help in interpreting, I'm striving for meaning. As there is no "I" in Number3. No "I" in team but there is a "I" in Ink. So help I, to see. Come closer in between my fingers. Let me embrace your frame and explore it. Dance with me. Let the a4 be our dance floor. Let's make a simple routine of twists and twirls, letters in words, bring meaning. Dance with me.

Fallen Brother

A soldier, leader and a brother. Fighting a battle under the gloomy weather. It is unfortunate, the heavens were calling, requesting their angel. Through loyalty he abides, leaving memories and lessons. We are grateful. In our hearts you'll remain forever...

Trivial satisfaction

Satisfaction. . . An infatuation! We are and never will be truly content. Selfish creatures we are. With how things are right now. Your objectives, higher than the stars, Massively out of reach, we are succumbed to enjoy the fruits at our level. Near the devil, figuratively. Our lives are written down at every moment, every second till the last breath. Whether your destination demands distances unreachable by feet...as you end up finding a way, life too finds a way, life has a way of catching up to you. Life always balances out its equation. Blood, sweat and tears will, optimistically, never bare thorns as fruits. But as there is a left to a right, a up to a down and a positive where there's a negative. Life's directional instructions will always make sense to the blind man.