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Lines of love..Lines of Hate
Middle is where we instigate
Lines of Life..Lines of Death
Energy released at ones last breath
Lines of Poor..Lines of Rich
Some dreams take flight others die in a ditch
Lines of God..Lines of Men
War with nature peace is not a plan
Lines of the Father..Lines of the Mother
Protect one another as if they were your sister or brother
Lines of Chance..Lines of Fate
Destiny bends to what we create
Lines where we start..Lines where we End
Infinite lines connect begin again and again..
M.A.N 8-22-14
I love the colors on you,
The beautiful blue in your eyes,
To the purples on your knee,
The brown dirt on your left hand from this afternoon gardening with me,
Just because i begged you to,
The pink in your cheeks that i love so much,
You get so flustered at the smallest things,
I love the brown of your hair that changes direction with the wind,
The summer bronzing of your skin,
Colors i cant describe,
You give me a new color everyday,
But i am so glad theres one color i never see,
and thats gray.

JD (1:58)
If you take the time to look at the one you love with lust, youll learn how many colors make up their beautiful being.
I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."

Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.
 Jun 2014 Jolene Heather
r
Rubies glistening
'neath light of the moon
as rabbits feast
and children sleep
'midst dreams
of a strawberry morning.

r ~ 6/13/14
\•/\
   |     Algonquian tribes called the June
  / \    full moon a Strawberry Moon
           because it coincides with the best
           time to pick the fruit. The last  
           Strawberry Moon to fall on a
           Friday 13 occurred in 1919.
           Farmers Almanac
 Jun 2014 Jolene Heather
Àŧùl
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
November 28, 2012 poem.

7 Stanzas Of A Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream Written In A Lonely Evening Reflecting Upon What I Lost Due To The May 7, 2010 Accident.

Read the entire Angel Saga by me, Atul Kaushal.
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-saga/

My HP Poem #19
©Atul Kaushal

I thank you all so much for the overwhelming response that this poem has received.

If you get interested in reading any of my novels after having read this poem then do visit https://www.amazon.in/Atul-Kaushal/e/B00NIQ5MTC/ for buying any of my stories.
Muse me..Choose me...Make me one
Queen of the Moon King of the Sun
Poetic scenes ****** dreams
Words strung together showing what I mean
Scorpio mind..Heart full of lust
Lay by your side till I turn to dust
Born a fool I dare to dream
Detective solving true loves scheme
Emotions put on the firing line
Execution swift from a sharp mind
**** me..Destroy me..Treat me wrong
Use me..Confuse me..Make me strong
Give me pain I want to feel
Too much fake I want the real
Seeds of flowers I have sewn
So beautiful oh how they've grown
Muse me..Love me..Make me more
Reborn a Phoenix's heart will soar
Burning up I become the flame
Balance my emotions to maintain
Muse me..Fuse me..Help me create
A language for ALL to communicate..
M.A.N 5-5-14 My creativity reaches a new level when I'm mused..
Stop trying to remember his scent, he smelled like summer and reminds you of the time he made you laugh so hard, you snorted out milk on that dead, hazy day.

2. Don't waste your day trying to decipher what colour his eyes were, it'll only remind you of the galaxies and constellations that you once saw in his eyes

3. Stop trying to retrace the shape of his mouth in the middle of the night, you'll choke on your tongue trying to taste the mint he devoured seconds before pulling you in for a kiss

4. Stop reliving the times you clasped hands together, the glass plate will fall off your trembling hands.

5. Burn this list, admit that the galaxies and constellations shining in his eyes were wilted, the one in yours are bursting with fire. Remember on the dead, hazy day his laugh sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. Remember when you kissed, the weeds growing from his mouth entangled the roses blooming in yours.

Realize that one day, another boy is going to come and plant daisies where he left behind thorns.
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