Warrior
She rose from ashes
And danced in the fire
She fights like a girl who
Has a lifetime of
Pain , anger , strength and pride
Life told her she would be happy but,
First she had to be made strong
The storm rise inside her
She knew she could find
Her own way
She didn't believe in
Fear or submission
She was going to change the world like
A woman with vision
For you only have
As much power as you grant yourself .
(this isnt the end
ill hold you close
giving you every piece of me
until you are whole. )
we are the warriors
we are warriors
they cant kill us
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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