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Rizma Aulia May 1
The midnight breeze escorts your pace,
Grace in motion, my soul’s quiet praise.
Might I dare to ask, if true,
Who is the maiden with mohawk hue?
I cannot bear to meet her gaze,
The fairest face that steals the haze.
Emilia B Apr 27
Paint peeling from the window sill
Long legged lady walking,
In such a way
All frail like a mouse without its tail
She wishes not that of a picket fence
But that of lattice.
So that each time she gazes out
Into her garden
She is reminded of bramble pie
Seeing her mothers eyes
Who’s spirit lies in oak
Samaras floating down into her hair
Twirling the whirligig between her fingers
Trailing with gentle fingers
The mid ribs of little sprites wings
It has been three whole years since I have last written a poem on here. I managed to finally access my account. And I am so happy to be able to upload my poems again.
Oh, my pretty lady
For loyalty, I am ready

With you let me walk
On a long way, long talk

Give me your hand
To have sky and land

Your name is precious
Your attitude isn't pretentious

One name holds heart
One lady is never apart

Meaning of love is you
My happiness is true

My feelings always grow
My eyes always glow

My darling, sweetie, and pretty
My life, air, and city

Your voice is a song
Loving you isn't wrong

You are the only truth
You are very couth

You are serene like nature
You are my promising future
By Menna Abd-Eldaiem
( Translator and Poetess )
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