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Signs of LoveThe hand waves in its gentle grace,
A smile creeps up upon a face.
A nodding head changes other's frowns,
From piercing cries to graceful sounds.
The wave cries out 'We'll meet again',
The nod acknowledges a faithful friend.
The hand falls down along the side,
The nodding slows and the loving died.
Returning home; arms open wide,
Gathers in and tries to hide.
From pain and fear, death and destruction,
A mother's heart; fortification.
A smile creeps upon a face,
Pain disappears without a trace.
Body language mimicked by another,
Keen to love and gain trust with the other.
Hands begin to sweat and swelter,
One runs to find safety and shelter.
Signs to show that love is nigh,
You're in love; float in the sky.
The hand waves hellos and goodbyes,
The nod greets and the smile lies.
The arms welcome and the hands love,
Signs for men from God above.
Cold DarknessWe fought the winds, the rain; the bitter ice,
Every moment a shallow march further into the unknown.
The blizzard winds whipped strongly at our faces,
And tore our clothes from our bodies to the wind.
'Hold your own!' Our leader cried out,
Pacing slowly towards our destination.
We followed behind, starved, cold and tired,
Constantly fighting the urge to lie down and be done.
Men, women and children trudged unknowingly forward,
Through days and nights of frozen hell.
Not one spoke a word, for fear held them back,
That the cold darkness would climb inside their souls for warmth.
The Poet Is A MurdererThe eyes of suspicion dive into my soul,
As though they were given highest permission,
To enter into my memories,
And harvest my soul.
They swim to every corner of my mind,
Searching crazily for the truth,
Needing to know my thoughts,
And every idea.
The eyes of accusation dive to the depths of my being,
As though they were given so high a priority,
To enter into my memories,
And harvest my guilt.
They build up an endearing case against me,
Pining insanely for my conviction,
Craving my lifetime spent in prison,
No hope of parole.
The eyes of the judge stare down at me,
As though they knew my very core,
To understand every motivation,
And guilty deed.
They bore a hole into my brain,
Relinquishing my innocence,
Replacing it with guilt,
Defendant found guilty.
The eyes of the jury fight terror behind eyelids,
As though I could kill them with a look,
To give them back the bad hand they dealt,
They take me to my prison cell,
Locking me up for life,
Fearing my violent ten
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More