I saw a chameleon today
He changed colors and acted aloof.
Why engage while I can blend in?
Why have a color while I can take that of my surrounding?
He was as colorful as his environment.
He was the color of his companion.
I saw a chameleon today.
He rolled his eyes back and looked at a gigantic ogre!
He rolled his eyes front to watch his brittle grip
He rolled his eyes west and saw colourful twig
He rolled his eyes up and saw the burning star!
He rolled his eyes down to watch his little steps!
Browsing: Poetry
…when his phone rang for a second time, Kairo was still in bed. A seductive, lithe body carved a statue beneath the silk sheets beside him. As his gaze met Nyiri’s eyes, he fought the urge to rejoin her. At that moment, his appointments seemed more important, especially after the letters he had read that morning. He wanted to tell her and be done with it. Or so he justified. But his mind was better occupied. He loved that she made time to see him during her tour and was growing fond of her. Why put out the fire in favour of notes and revelations? Right then, no two people in the world needed more kisses for breakfast. Nyiri’s lips were soft and sensual, and no other decision was logical at the time.
The intended audience for this poem piece of prayer is any embodiment housing social or public anxiety especially those individuals about to embark on a busy day filled with NEW encounters and interactions. The poem is crafted to provide comfort and courage to those seeking inner peace and strength to navigate through social situations with grace and positivity. It is a gentle reminder of the divine support that surrounds them, encouraging a mindset of kindness, understanding, and the hope of a successful day aligned with THEIR highest good.
A cookout at the ‘dance on the Elder’s carnage’ lights up the sky. Amidst the cold night with a sparkling sky, an inferno bonfire ravages the effigy of the former head of office. Lorena sits still, her pen in hand, trying not to think of the obvious. Despite being set in the place of her childhood memories, her new portable office feels as strange as the land beneath it. In the stillness of it all, murmurs outside seem as inviting as the crackling fire. Is this another faint attempt to get her to attend? She feels unsettled by the silence of the state and its retaliatory branding of le jeune mouvement. Maybe it’s the deafening appreciation of Vihuela’s bestowed honor. A glorious future with its People intact. A glorious People with her future intact! Just like her modesty was undermined