♥ Angelica Wandering Angel ♥

Check This Profile on My best And ADD Please www.myspace.com/waterflowwageble............................ ...............................To Write Poetry HOPE ... "I love you," cries my heart In pain unbending. Unyielding hope within my soul Springs up from wells of love Not yet tapped.Hope springs forth bright and alive As the morning wind brings the rain, Rain my soul doth reach for To quench the draught of thought And hope not yet realized.My soul doth long for Your glory, Glory too bright to rise to. Hope stirs the soul of joy And brings life anew, Full of dreams, Real and imagined, Yet whole and pure, Seeking the light of day As no dreams having gone before. And You are there...In Memories of a Lost Friend ...En Souvenir d`une Amie Disparue .........................................................To Angel On Earth : Every time i laugh ...we embrace in some way It takes me to that far away place When we just walk . I feel we are hand in hand In our way to never, never land. Whenever I imagine your eyes, I begin to get butterflies, Then my heart skips a beat, And our LIPS passionately meet. I know you`r not there , but i don`t care For now your voice is all i need to fill my needs You`r making your way in my mind, Your face is all i try to find. I think about you in so many funny ways And Think it’ll work out somehow, some way. You`r an Angel on earth ,I Bless the day of your birth Maybe we’re dumb and foolish I say we should do as we wish But all my words could ever do Is tell you that I always smile thinking of you ... Angel on Earth , this is for you ... Passion ... AngelicaNEVER ENDING STORY ...WHEN THE CHILD WAS A CHILD, SHE DREAMT THAT SHE WAS AN ANGEL. SHE WAS COLOR-BLIND, HER EYES WOULD JOURNEY THROUGH OUT THE WORLD FROM THE INFINIT SNOW TO THE DEEPEST OF LANDS.ACCORDING TO HER, SHE KNEW THE MARRIED LIFE, WOMEN AND MEN, LOVE AND SEX, SPIRITUALLY AND PHISICALLY. AND SHE KNEW THAT, ONCE UNIFIED, ALL THESE THINGS WERE ALIKE, BUT THAT ONLY ONE ANGEL HAD THE ABILITY TO STILL DISTINGUISH ONE FROM THE OTHERS.WHEN THE ANGEL WAS AN ANGEL, SHE WOULD FEED OFF TIMELESS SENTIMENTS AND PASSIONS THAT DEFIED GRAVITY. TO ESCAPE FROM THE WORLD, SHE KNEW THE STORY OF MAN AND HIS FEARS. SHE WOULD RECORD IT ALL IN HER MEMORY, THE DEATH OF A SWAN, THE FIRST LOOK OF A MAN IN LOVE, THE SMILE OF THE FLORIST,THE POEMS THAT ACCOMPANY A BOUQUET OF BLUE ROSES, HIDDEN PAINS, THE CHOKING CRIES AT THE FUNERAL OF A POET, THE PEACEFUL SLUMBER OF THE NYMPHS, THE VIOLENCE OF A RAPE IN A DARK ALLEY, THE SAVAGE BEAUTY OF A STAR, IN THE SKY DYING. … NEVER ENDING STORY …WHEN THE ANGEL WAS AN ANGEL, SHE COULD FLY OVER SOULS AND FEED OFF OF OTHER'S FEELINGS,WITHOUT EVER RUNNING OUT OF FEELINGS HERSELF. WHEN THE ANGEL WAS AN ANGEL, HER MEMORIES WERE HOPES,HER KISSES WERE GIFTS,PRESENTS SHE WOULD SHARE WITH LOVERS AS A PREVIEW OF HEAVEN...FOR SHE KNEW THE ROAD TO THE ESSENTIAL, AND WOULD NOT LEAVE ASIDE A SINGLE DETAIL, WHEN THE CHILD WAS A CHILD, SHE ALWAYS DREAMT OF BEING WOMAN, BUT THAT ALWAYS DREAMNT THAT SHE WAS AN ANGEL... WHAT CAN SHE DREAM OF NOW... MAYBE OF A FEW LINES....WRITTEN BY ANOTHER HAND... OR BECOMING A CHILD AGAIN... THAT DREAMNT OF BEING AN ANGEL. A NEVER ENDING STORY ….Passion For You ...Angelica ..........................................................Me rmaid.. Nights, slowly the boats dance on the floods, the voice of the Mermaids in echoes, answers the sailors. Stars and the Moons are reflected on the water which undulates, Whereas the surging rollers advance and move back, Licking the tepid sand which paints tablecloths of scum.The lapping of the sea, undecided posthumous melody Of marine hearts drowned in the black depths, Murmurs its languid complaint to the sky ; Whereas under the faint wave dance per a thousand, In love women fish to the silver plated scales.Since the night of times, under the nebulas, They knew charmed by their incantations , the sailors hearts , the glances lost in the distance, Which without moving, while waiting for the clearness of the morning and the song of the creatures.Nights, infinite nights in which their offspring Grew in secrecy under the idle and plaintive wave,New vampires psylles thirsty of captive hearts,Souls, piled up per hundreds of a thousand in the floods, Resting for eternity under the holds of the boats.Passion... ..........................................................Mo on Lady...A breath of drizzle cherishes my heart, and murmurs to my soul the words so i can sing your name A rustle of ferns, a spark , somewhere , maybe a star! your enchantments scent my dreams... the beautiful Moon Lady without Mercy, I whispered your name in the secrecy of the night ! But i`d like to shout it like a she-wolfe looking at you while howling! White Lady emerging from darkness, I collected for you the unknown stones and YOUR beautifull planet cried a pearl .. Moon Lady my breath of life, I conceived his name as an invaluable jewel to decorate the sides of your intensity at night! Great Lady of the night Show me the way to his heart i request! I`m afraid of falling on my way Moon Lady , You made me who i am , you made me a poet My heart became a storm full of emotionsTell me Moon Lady … How to understand what you are trying to say ....Passion ............................................................ Vision of the Futur or vision of War ?The world will be destroyed. Nothing any more will exist In addition to our poor wretches spirits. Vision of the futurPeople will die in ignorance. Daily newspaper will want to say suffering, Death will mean life. Vision of the futurAlready, the universe collapses. As a ship which sinks, Letting its passengers fight for their survival. Here are what will be prophecy!Dead and violated women, men in uniform waiting at the doors of eternity,blood soiling their perverted hearts. Always a vision...A world of war, robber, traitors That nobody any more will want to know. Of all that, the Earth is not any more A shelter. It was prophecy. PICTURE OF CANADIAN TROOPS IN AFGHANISTAN................................................. ...........................CloudsStrange silhouettes painted in the clear sky, Invitations with insane imaginations of imagination, the soft voluptuous and transitory tablecloths Spread out their pale arms in the infinite one of the horizon.Gallopping in the azure such of the white sheep Running after the vastness which are offered to them, They owe their race with the whims of the wind, Which drives out them with far from its perpetual gusts.Filtering the blazing rays of the burning sun, Which they moult in soft and pleasant light. They veil sometimes stars in the firmament, But are illuminated under the lightnings and the flashes.Last refuge of the land hearts and the Angels, Which contemplate the world in the cotton pressure Of this moving kingdom where the Archangels reign, Who under their step give birth to a rain from inspiration... Now ...Just imagine ...If I Was one of Them... Passion..................................................... ............................................................ .........................The Last Words ...The poetess whispered few words to her silver pen Drawn from its substance of memory,freedom of her intimate feelings, her writing betrayed by the black inks.The silver pen was a friend to her as well as a freedom She spoke to her silver pen when her heart overflowed Or as angels came on her life And always the tender silver plated pen listened to herThe years did not exhaust the blackened inkpot, Source of truth The poetess was writing there each night, Laying down lines of poems on blank paper.The true source was not its inkpot, But her misunderstood heart Becoming a wound, an open wound from where escape per a thousand of bloody drops ...the color of the geai.Therapy of the pen still digs her soul and still, at Each day`s going by her life drawing a wine from sorrow to the beauty Gold rhymes, Which on the singular virgin page are frozen.It is the life, the years,the words and the lovers Who inserted in the writer`s heart This sharp scraping-knife to the lunatic capacity Which is baited to dig this dubious pit.One evening, with the gleam of a cloud of fireflies, the poetess cherishing her silver pen said some enigmatic words , Then she forgot about it...If the deep wound that she carries forever would not close again even in beyond,she knew that more no pen from now on would come to bleed her heart until she died ...Passion.................................................. ............FREEDOM....I am the freedom, which runs, which makes all the beauty of the day, freedom color of hope ,Chains must be broken, walls destroyed to free people I am the freedom which delivers my brothers, allows them to live and to be Free, Allows THEM ... to live on their grounds without fear, I am freedom that so many people hope`s for, help me to survive... Because Freedom is My Name , And i dont Wanna Die . Special words for the cause .. Check this profile ans Add please www.myspace.com/120769567