I wonder if you could write me a love letter
On this wind struck Sunday night
Ink of red oozing love on blue scented papers
Your handwriting speaking of your brash affection for me
Write me a love letter speaking volumes of your innermost thoughts
My essence consuming your waking dawn
Love perfectly tucked between I and you
Desire awakened as you seal and send off to me
I long for the days when words flowed
Like rivers of many water
Pens running dry at the sight of paper
Inks wasted not night after night
Blisters and finger sores
A sign of victory
Wisely masked between metaphors
And Sunday’s steamy nights
I want to say I love you In the most poetic of ways Using words like tendrils and lilacs My brown face blushing masked passion and desire On the coldest and darkest of warm summer days I want to say I love you Without being blunt and abrupt Using words like my bosom &fleshy heart beating fast as one Whenever you are near Tingles erupting way down and below I want to say I love you In the most romantic of ways Using raindrops and lullabies Soft spoken words &gentle sweet rhymes Syllables broken off in perfect vibes Just as clouds start to echo in thunder Lightning like paparazzi bulbs flashing you to my heart Silent rain drizzling down fast I want to say I love you In the most poetic of ways So I juggle silent words in my heart Open my brown eyes and like fire Blaze affection into yours Knowing no words were ever necessary
I have missed writing And hope ink from my felt pen & Blood from my fingertips spill desire and passion Onto blank screens & papers soon... *I found my way onto this blog tonight and my heart smiled as words formed in my head*
It’s that time of the week again, Friday fictioneer par Rochelle, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast. I came up with this fictional story that is not the best but is the best I could come up with. Comments and constructive criticisms are very much welcome, and feel very free to join in the fun and participate. THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY. Blessings for a great weekend!
Image courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast.
Bunmi squinted… after only 3 hours of sleep she could barely keep her tired eyes open. It didn’t help that the snowstorm had caused power outage and her glasses were still missing.
Reaching over in the dark for her phone, she checked her email…there was a message from Rochelle. She tried to stare at the image but there was no use, it was hard to see…it looked like a giant candle to her, but after the doctor’s results on her eyes it really could be anything…
She rubbed her tired eyes again as a tiny voice called for her in the dark…the unknown image in the email bothered her…she wanted to know what it was…she wanted the lights back, and her vision right…
Congratulations to Ms. Cathy Ulrich, winner of the anniversary giveaway…and as a bonus for being my longest reader, and for a while silent follower Ms.Rosy Shea also gets a small token of love, and appreciation.
MANY THANKS TO YOU FOR THE LOVE, SUPPORT, FRIENDSHIP, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND SO MUCH MORE. I had planned to take today’s post to the next level by doing a video with me reading one of my poems, and then expressing some words from my heart, but I didn’t get to it (or maybe i chickened out). Still my heart thanks you all so much.
Glasses raised to you. God bless
Love always
Boomie Bol
Poems in times of Facebook twitter
and all things social media
beg to be brief in their ramblings
Words are limited to powerful and thought provoking contents
Subjects varying from politics to technology
Characters captivating souls
Then there are wasted days like this
with nothing much to do
Thoughts lead nowhere except to
Meaningless inner debates about exes’ and such
Poems become a few drunken dials and many useless talks
THIN SHADOW I am but a thin shadow The gray skies casting their gloomy dark eyes on me I reach for you my past light nightly Loneliness responding to me in echoes YOUR TOXIC GOOD LOVING Your words of love haunt me The betrayal even worse stinging my heart My heart begs for you to come back However toxic your good loving may be It misses your words Evilly spoken Cunningly timely My heart misses you Even when it knows you are untrue My heart begs for you to come back However toxic your good loving
Hello everyone! It’s that time of the week again, Friday fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle, with picture from Claire Fuller. I missed last week, even though I had a story and poem…life is well life these days. I took this week’s image back to native Yoruba land, please feel free to comment, give constructive criticisms, and as always join in the fun. THANKS FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY.
Image courtesy of Claire Fuller
Ade stared at the herbalist who had laid his cowries, beads, and other incantations down on the muddy floor. In front of the 69year old man was a double headed statue…Orişa funfun…this was the god that would make him rich the herbalist had promised.
Chanting away in gibberish to conjure the image, Ade let his mind wander…Akin, his best friend had referred him to the herbalist after life dealt him another blow, and he lost his wife to the landlord…The herbalist was Akin’s source of millions…
Ade continued to fantasize when suddenly he heard a strange voice…the statue was alive…
Poets& writers of poems are innocent to behold Imagination swirling and painting rainbows In their flustered minds Words are more than alphabets conjoined from preschool Syllables more than breaks and form Love is most definitely more than a four letter word Do not get them started on hate Their thoughts often deep and with intent Don’t be fooled however by their canvas of words Spilling butterflies cocoa socks& silver lines On a clear summer noon Innocence is far from their flustered creative minds *Post 500
