2014 - December

Of Her – Poems by Edgars Mezaraup

Image: Painting © Anete Mezaraupa

Author:  Edgars Mezaraup

“Of her”


Lipstick Red


Even drunk

I think.


Arousing shapes in disco shades

Tempt my eye and shake my mind,

Still I sit and still I languish

For the crimson red and, yes,

I think.


I don’t think.

I never think of you

I only dream of you,

Sweet as a sweet dream

Are you.


Little Clouds


To where the mushrooms grow

I shall go

Forget the world as it is.


Too much of imbecile is being done

Too many a hope – forlorn.


Naught but red flows in the heart,

Naught but red on the lips and puffy eyes

Make me lost.


Truly, if cuteness something means, it means

Those little clouds when you smile.

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