My movie.

there was a movie

with the label of cranberry fruit cake

melting my luscious desire

and awarding me an Oscar

 

I smiled my most beautiful smile

pouting out, making it look like open strawberry

and many fell for the delight

 

it was a peak time when 

I knew how to swivel with the camera

and roll with the credits

mentioning after shots and loving every moments

smiling naked in the blanket of fame

 

sweet treats

and sugary sweets

loved the limelight

and I hung around spotlight

never letting go of the spot

 

in the heavenly world of flashes

and fake smiles

I pancaked my face with desire and fake smiles

making me look like a goddess

and I know, that is my cue

to undulating rolls of business pleasure

 

In this movie, I did act as me

with the stare of my birth-mom

who never knew what bliss is

it was a family tradition

to be born with no money and live with only water

the one that flow through your walls

collected in pots and pan

only fresh when it rains

 

this was when I was lovingly living

inside my mom’s womb 

and when they plucked me away

from the safe heaven

I knew not what safety and purity was

but from then on

I never had to close my only book

which made me look amazing

and set a price for the eyes

which see me pleasing…

 

and then,

did I act upon the stage

in front of the camera

pouting my lips which yearns to tell a tale

of falling rain and eating lies

 

once, I acted upon a stage

where they shot a movie

with the label of cranberry fruit cake

melting my luscious desire

and awarding me an Oscar

I enjoyed writing this, a life of a girl who entered fame being ____________Did you understand?   

 

This is a poem explaining about a girl who was forced into being prostitutes….

and roll with the credits

mentioning after shots and loving every moments

smiling naked in the blanket of fame

 

from a young age, who was forced to, from the safe place with her mother…

 

inside my mom’s womb 

and when they plucked me away

from the safe heaven

 

womb I mentioned for the safe place with mother, young finds security within mother. And then she was rose to fame being an actress (bad one)

 

there was a movie

with the label of cranberry fruit cake

melting my luscious desire

and awarding me an Oscar

 

Oscar was just a mention of Praise and fame and then labeling which is mentioning….

 

I love writing this

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Nature lover.

In between thin shards of glass, I walk carefully on its edge, Not wanting to cut my toes, fearing my muse will flow out. Life taught me very good things, about the sky which is azure and blue at times but fails to comprehend the emotion of moon and quickly fades to yellow and hues. Blurry, soft cotton swabs whiter throughout the sky, painting the already pique azure, a little more pathetic, but the more you look at it the more you feel relaxed.
Life also taught me about the azure, the one that flows through my nails and fingers, and I feel the tickling nibbles of tiny mouths, making me see wonderful visions and I smile and then laugh. The water is a pure blue, sheer pleasure, mighty bearer, smooth kisses. The rivulets passes along liquidizing melon sun and the water clings to my legs, painting my legs a sweet mango yellow. Cooling my mind, making me feel relaxed.
Beautiful, sturdy trees stretches and exaggerate its beauty through olive, emerald, and pedriot legacies and then they paints a masterpiece in between the lines of glistening buds that rejuvenate and solidify emotions, pulled to the roots and finalize this closure. making me sane and fine and peace. Hues boasts about fine poetry and paints masterpiece, of crimson, yellow, salmon, orange and brown. fallen or not, they whiter diamond dust of beauty.
never shall I get tired of this, the fragrance of rainbows, frolicking and swaying in the whistling breeze and chirruping birds that brings together a chord of sonata, a serenade, a chime too sweet. close your eyes and envisage, you could feel the beauty tantalizing, whispering, kissing. Tiny buds giggling and joyfully turn their head towards the sun, like kids do when they do something proud. smiling and gleefully enjoying.Peace
Nature has its palette full of hues and I a brush, painting on the blank canvas, hurting my  mind and I paint, a picture…..Too sweet and rhythmic, I never look for flaws and don’t care for the fine piece of mitigating comments, sarcasm or care… I feel I own this palette and the hues is mine, from my mother nature, Attitude design my brains by the nature and this nature set the bars high…..Never complaining and only applauding.

untitled.

In the sweetest of nocturnal ponds, my eyes dip in the cool shores of silver, waiting to be rolled in warm bliss, by your fragrance wafting around the pond. Golden charm resonate while you hum, the melody of my serenade and I pinch myself to see this ballad is real and not a mild mirage like those dandelions there in your eyes. I dip my quill in the river of your love and write in the canvas of jasmine and rose. our love is the closure of unending legacies, unraveling through years of melted sonata

Our song is the boon of your whispers, where I slip into the gardens of Eden, devouring the eloquent shade of poetry only to write you an ode, from the temporal lobe of my cranium. Our song is the ballad sung by undulating wrapping up of blankets in the sultry ambiance of indigo passions. Our love is the shade of moon, whispering to the stars and guiding the way of forbidden fruits like us.

O divine verses of prose, glide me through your indispensable proximity of my love, that flows through the veins of river in between the root that hold the deepest of pleasure, that flutter through the dreams of pink, orange, amber, red painted sky….that mix with the zilch effervescence of this seedless night.

I shall make you weep those ink of eloquent aura, making me drip with emotions as your verses tangle my brains. I behold the torch of your divine presence that unveil glaciers and waterfalls of enduring metaphor, and I bathe in this pond of reverberation to rattle my love towards you, O fine piece of beauty.

She…

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Lovely green has always been her color, whatever she got to do with clothes or adventure will be opted for green. Delightful pedriot is her favorite of all and she has a set of jewelry that she wears for all her outfits.

Dancing to the rhythm of rain was her favorite and she always went for trekking in the rain whenever she got the chance. She was different, that was the first thing her mother said when she opened her eyes, because it was a lovely set of opaque crystals and lately as she grew up it was a tinge of azure overcoming emerald. She was different.

Running around in baggy jeans parrot green tank top, she smiles and pull her cap sideways just like the kids on the corner do. Keeping to her heels will be that willful puppy equally jumpy as her mistress and she was named after the silky fur, pearl. Pearl was a melodramatic puppy playing with her and whining at teary scenes in the TV, just to make her mistress laugh and those tiny amber eyes glint, broadening her jaws making it as if she is smiling.

Polished gems was eyesores for her, (unnamed because she is important that a name), just like the gems set on display. She would stare at the pieces taking time to study and sigh and leave the store. Tim, the jeweler laugh at her jokingly and say, “someday little pearl, your mistress shall get a handsome gemstone.”

Her life is full of hopes, and ambition to be anything just to prove herself. In the meantime she is a loner in public. But, inside she is a great art piece of wonderful masterpiece. Waiting for a chance to strike, waiting for the day when she can be public, waiting for the apt time to gather her spirits and jump. But she is doing a mistake of waiting for the apt time. The time is now and the day is yours, never wait for the chance to strike because opportunity in ones life is something we create, not something knocking a our door.

“Like someday that wont come now, make today the day of spotlight!”