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My Andela

Our love was the real art
She torments me
In each city
Every house I play
She leaves her mark
For me to see
Even in Melbourne
Upside down
Ironic
She’s so smart
Our love was the real art
I left
She has a voice
She sprays in screams from pleading eyes
To change the way people bleed
If you listen
She whispers
I sold her out
We had a mission
But I had dreams to read
Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague
My bohemian princess
Her eyes still ignite
My passion
Now hid by my wallet
And silent
Mute and dumb
Blind to …
Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague
For gold
She has a voice
Even in Melbourne
Upside down
Don’t forget me she sings
Don’t forget
She’ll remind me again in Montreal
She’ll be painted on my door
Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague
For Gold
My Andela
My Andela
My truth
My soul
Note:  Andela in Czech means: Messenger from God
(For One Shoot Sunday. Prompt is graffiti. At One Stop Poetry)
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18 thoughts on “My Andela

  1. This is an extremely creative take, and the truth of the words is strong. It's always a pleasure to see what you do, and you always do the unexpected. I think we all have some graffiti like this on our souls, if we're lucky.

  2. Depicting the heart of a true art lover. 'I sold her out, we had a mission' Still the princess continues to embark with his lover on the ultimate journey of love. Exceptionally beautiful.

  3. oh wow – sounds that love really was the real art…love that you wove in some czech language as well..creative and powerful as always sir henry…

  4. Henry, you are a beautiful, beautiful soul! I knew that upon my first visit when I saw the tree image, and each and every piece validates it further. I LOVED "I'm Just a Man", but I think I might love this more. It is a delima with no right answer I'm afraid…Brilliance falls from your pages! Write on 🙂

  5. I am reminded of "The Hound of Heaven" in addition to your overt love story. All from graffiti, writing on the wall, that often annoying phenomenon — love it as always.

  6. The truthfulness of seeing the beloved in everything everywhere is the compelling thought you so unraveled in all its tenderness–for such love is without the sharp edges of passion–and beauty. I love your pure lines!And thank you, Henry, for your uplifting words in my poem at jornales!

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