Miss.

Miss,with the eight and a half size feet.

Miss, she is truly uncategorized. She is simply reticent.

She’s nice but she’s also a trained eccedentesiast.woman-face-curly-hair-157920

Too much is what she is, always being technical.

Questioning the sanity of others on a norm.

Smart but not quite wise.

Blessed but obviously fighting curses.

Miss, with the eight and a half size feet.

Is pretty according to the view point of others.

She herself is afraid to see.

See past her vain beauty and delve deep into her inner self.

She has orange cream sickle skin.

Thighs just a tad to big.

Open but foolishly closed.

Telling truths without divulging her truth.

Walks by dragging her feet and attempts to keep a perfect posture when she strides.

Eyes that have mastered the art of glowing upon call.

Discerningly pleasing, and pleased to please.

All because it sets other people at ease.

Skirting about relationships.

Befriending only to a certain degree.

Lazy while seemingly hard working.

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Chatter box with an earnest heart.

gently assuaging the subconscious.

Unable to stay the same constantly growing in wanderlust by the day.

Miss, with what seems like two eight in a half size feet;

seeing in others what she refuses to see within herself.

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Traveling to her Sophronia; A healthy state of mind characterized by self-control, moderation, and a deep awareness of one’s true self, and resulting in true happiness.

FD

Charming is this girl.

I’ve yet to make a stand on the degree of her minds command.

Just how smart and aware is she?

Pretty?

Friend?

Or hidden foe?

They say watch women.

And never undermine their ability to score.

“Hell has no fury like a woman scorned”.

I am a woman too…

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The world has yet to burn my skin.

Truce, treaty, peace pipe, a pledge of allegiance?

She’s testing me, I’m also testing her.

She seems a bit careful with her words.

Open but not open.

Telling them a truth before they ask her for the truth.

Brushing lightly with the tip of her hands.

She stares silently at her prey.

Firmly suggesting for you to bend to her ways.

Seeking out weaknesses and turning them back to see their effects in play.

She has “game” and it’s better than a few others I know.

Mind your manners, abruptly raising a hand. To see who will flinch.

What is her mission?

 

 

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Is she an alpha female or a follower of tales?

I’ve yet to decide, although I feel negatively impressed by her gaze.

Her stance is not that of a stallion.

And her stare is lacking in ferocity. But to whom does she compare?

She knows not how to glide when she walks.

Yet she can cause people to watch.

Charming girl, she’s cute in her own way; surely she’s a foe who’s perfecting her monkey show.

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Pain and Happiness

 

Daily Writing Prompt - Writers Write Creative Blog

So here I go again trying my hand at another writer prompt and my own Prompt me I dare you posts. I hope everyone enjoys, as I muster the words to edify literature of the name of the Twenty-first century.  🙂

 

…Pain

 

People try to Paint a reflection of Pain.

The color doesn’t exist.

Trying to compare blue to feelings, is beyond its untruth.

No one can come near the color of pain.

We know not of his hue.

His pigment can’t come through.

We have not enough light receptors within our eyes.

Not able to perceive its richness.

Pain is unreflective.

Hence his lack of hue.

Pain, you want me to write about the color of pain?

Pain is the color of our faces when relatives don’t return from war.

It’s also the indescribable accumulation bubbling deed in her chest when they tell her it was her fault. And is she sure she did not consent to his conquest?

Tell the doctor you can not number it either.

Scream out to society it’s not something that’s from without this things starts from within.

This silhouette of pain shrouds every one of us from fetus to the grave.

Gauging out our eyes and refusing light to come in.

Pain ain’t got no number so stop asking from 1-10.

Pain is a shadow that doesn’t know its place, He’s rude, knows no manners, and lets not his host retain a somber face.

Hey, watch out, he can make you bitter, unreasonable, indecisive, petty, and unattractive.

Guess what? None of those are colors.

No color wants to color his face.

Pain has not a color, hue, pigment, tint, and or fragment of a reflection for our eyes to pierce him in his face.

Thank God we know not of his hue because if we did He may look like you.

Like you, Me, Her, and Him. Pain might resemble us all.

Again, Thank God Pain ain’t got a hue.

 

 

 

Happiness

 

Neither bitter nor sweet.

Beautifully in between.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Deceitful, or better known as divine.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Potent and always compelling.

Dazzled, by its wonderful scent.

I was told about learning and knowing of this taste.

Yet happiness is not found in this place.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Come forth, I reach for this gentle taste.

Heavenly, no it’s eternal.

Relentless in its ways

I have yet to savor this taste.

 

 

Ascension: Cinnamon

Hellow, and greetings to all. I know the post of the week is late but all is well. And I hope its enjoyed.

A color poem is whats in mind.

This kind of poem is my own personal invention. One where every line includes a color.

This particular poem today is a man’s description of a woman.

I hope everyone is familiar with their colors.

It’s not really necessary, just ask google.

Without further ado:

 

 

Tawny?

Yes, tawny was her hair.

Syrupy, was her ting.

Mint was her air.

Cinnamon, are her eyes.

Walnut, etched cheekbones.

Ginger on her backbone.

And a brunette colored spine.

 

Mulberry twing, about her hips.

Boysenberry were her lips.

Tangerine, were her hands.

A sandstone brine, for her hind.

Spice, in between her thighs.

With a butterscotch undertone.

Had on a honeydew kind of dress.

With a brick house of a stance.

Arctic, was our view.

Candy was her tongue.

Marmalade, I sniffed her Perfume.

Honey was her touch.

Golden is her hue.

Lemon, she had much zest.

Fire etched her eyes.

Aries was her sign.