It’s Morning, the sun’s out
The sleep? Nothing to brag about
Every living thing was up
An important day? A special event?
Still in bed I lay, mood descent
Birds happy go lucky, singing for dawn
Not enough energy to become corporate pawns
Better to roll over and call it a day
“what if it’s productive?” my heart would say
“What if it’s not?” My mind would portray
Then you will regret that first step
After all we are not meant for the morning
Demotivated energy weighs the body
This was supposed to be a prose
“How did it become a poem?” Who knows
It could be we are stressed
Could be tiredness
Written: September 18, 2017 by Malicool Whitby
Purchase Ballad of the Mind: From the thoughts of a dreamer on Amazon
Emotions stitched in each word written
You read it, feelings smitten
Now we are deep within, Love fit in
Passion then follows, reality hits in
Moving forward with haste, Life quickens
Can I fill the space beside you?
The Longing Company
You are chaos waiting to happen
I, a mere witness to your enlightened dreams
Your blood and sweat stains your achievements,
The smell of perspiration emits from your fulfilled dreams.
I hear them reasoning, conspiring ideas mumbling
I hear them calling me into the meeting,
The Mc in charge of greeting.
Putting them to rest not to be late for my date with sleeping.
They can’t be ignored, the head is displeased
Exploring random matters, having calculated random chatters
The flow is a mess,
house under stress.
An unlikely story, who would believe?
A world created by an unchecked imagination
Unrecognizable thoughts flood the world
Knowing that this episode is improbable,
Yet I follow the same road, differentiation becomes unable.
I have entered a different plane of existence
A widen views, along with a growing mind
No longer can be contain by this closed space
Wisdom, A visionary.
The next title for my second up coming book, this one may be a mixture of both poetry and prose, we will see when the release time comes.I am bit excited about it even though I am just starting out as an author but I still feel need to share it with you readers because it all comes down to how you receive the finish product, I might love it to death but you might see it in another light. That’s ok, it’s a learning journey for me and I love it none the less, I look forward to your feedback when this book becomes reality.
Emotions stitched in each word written, you read it, feelings smitten
Now we are deep within….
To be continued
I am working on something new, using unusual words to conjure a poem from their definitions and then compiling them into a book of sorts, I am excited to see how this turns out,
Look forward to that.
Looking at it from a distance, can you see it?
The beauty within the art
Nature painted, the colours fit
The hands of the divine plays a part
You understand it’s mood with your heart.
Over time you become aware of its essence
Stitched within each living
The vibrant colours emit a feeling of benevolence,
The story it tells gives life emphasis
Understanding that this art was living.
War eats away at the vale of peace
Devouring any hope of healing
The innocent souls swallowed unaware, ignorant to the danger creeping near
Darkness is at our doorstep
Don’t let the devil in, the heat from his breath, unquenching
What’s worth more than your soul? What’s worth more than your life?
The Lion sits waiting, feed him from your plate, an arm or a leg
Darkness is at our doorstep
It’s invisible, it’s silent, deadly times
A well kept secret
A war rages behind the scenes
Can you see it?
Yesterday someone died. Today another can die
Shot fired echoes the night
whose soul was released from it’s cage?
To take the elevator up or down
leaving behind worries and pain, suffering
Leaving behind a life that could have been better
You slept with the dark, it swallowed you whole
A residential fee of your soul
Anyway back? paid in blood, your life sacked
you have made your bed, now lay in it
Set on a Journey, an adventure
Mentally uplifting, a reminder that I am gifted
Re-swallowed by negative system
Not to ignore but to explore
dissecting its center to find its core
It’s me, it’s me, it’s me
Spamming internal folklore
I heard from another, equating to many
A not so funny comedy
A marathon of uneven sitcoms
My mind a sequence of scenes
A well written psycho script
“Remember your lines” memories encrypted
Translation not equipped, My mood took a dip
My words, take your sip
and be filled.
Pen in hand, words flow out
Extension of my veins, wounds sprout
Each words written with my blood
All red, filled with life, my soul spread
To connect, to inspire, to conjure your minds desire