Join the community! Beautiful words, Beautiful minds.

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For all writers, authors, poets, artists, photographers, and creators alike, I have created a new facebook group where everyone can share their work, and support others work.

A great way to interact with new people, and spark new ideas!

Please join if you think this is something you would enjoy being part of!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/beautifulwordsbeautifulminds

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See you there!

Jasmin Elizabeth x

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To Miss missing you.

I miss dreaming with you,
we’d roam the world in a day, hand in hand.
Do you remember when we thought the world was ours?
Just us, alone, in the sand.
I miss loving you,
the way I should, the way I did, before.
Completing all the plans we set out to make,
once a goal, now a chore.
I miss you saying my name,
your voice, the tone, your lips,
watching you float away, slowly falling through my grip.
I miss all the laughter,
oh we did laugh, didn’t we?
though my memory of what we joked about has somehow disappeared,
your smile has never left me.
Do you know I conjure you up sometimes,
just to feel you close,
forgetting how times have changed and you’re no longer my home.
I miss missing you,
though I think of you often, its not out of love, but wonder,
I wonder what your up to, whether life treated you well,
don’t we all stop and ponder?
What I no longer miss,
is your praise, or the touch of your hands on my hips,
no more crying on your shirt, leaving tear stains created by hurt,
Its funny how our minds, suddenly move on,
once so reliant on your love,
now happily singing to my own song.

The Lovers of 1919

The lovers of 1919, their first debut!
One dressed in black tie.
One in pastel blue.
The scene filled with a red passion,
Jigsaw like in its composition.
Shapes in the most peculiar of forms,
Filled with depth and in their colour suspicion.

The lovers of 1919, perform a haunting ballet,
His hands carefully touching each side of her slender waist.
Their feet became intertwined,
One black, one white,
As the drawing room candles fade,
They are swept into the darkness of night.

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

Lionhearted

It feels like a long time, since I last saw your face,

the smell of your skin,

the warmth of your embrace.

The colour of your hair,

your laugh, your smile,

Oh, how I haven’t felt this golden in such a long while.

Though it’s been so long,

we are right back where we started,

time doesn’t seem to change us,

we stand lionhearted.

Your hand in mine, it feels so good to be home,

with a friend like you, I’m never alone.

 

Time may keep ticking,

the seasons will keep changing,

we will grow older,

the people we’ve dated,

the wrinkles on our foreheads,

the stories that we tell,

We’ll go years without a hello,

but never say farewell.

 

The dearest of friends, will not demand you, nor require you all the time,

but when they are needed, suddenly…they’re right there, at you side.

 

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

 

Beyond the frame.

Paintings hang on our old cottage walls, though they are more than just art to me.
Many a time have I sat, just envisaging myself, in the world those pictures breathe.
I conjure up little helpers in my dreams at night, who help me to explore the wonder, we set out on our plight.
Alternate realities secretly hidden in our minds, that none of our parents will ever find!
The scene is filled with deep reds and oranges and a one very peculiar blackened building; Feeling the hot air on my skin, bare feet on the warm soil, we set off in mists of exploring.
Exploring the horizon, to find we are not alone, and that deep inside this painting are many creature’s homes.
We talked and danced all night with the Menasoga tribe, who live in the desert, and with their wings they can fly;
They fly to another picture hung up across the room, to a beautiful tranquil frame of greys and blues.
Blues so magnificent, their colour as inviting as the most exquisite lagoon; Then William spots a boat thats been abandoned, maybe by pirates, or a well educated batch of baboons!

We set up camp on the shoreline, we dip our feet in the water, the colours so bright.
But until now, I never knew that painting only had one time, so we slept on the sand beneath the sunlight.
After days of searching this remarkable frame, we hungered to see the night stars again.
From out of the frame of which we’d jumped, we fell onto the carpet with an almighty thump!
William’s socks were on my feet, and little Mary’s bangles were scattered endlessly. Jonathon was covered from head to toe in paint, and all of our hair was backcombed in such a ridiculous state.
We clambered onto the window seat and looked up at the sky, to see a shooting star, we quickly closed our eyes!
“Make a wish!” Mary squealed.
And before we new it, we were asleep in our beds.
Resting our tired weary heads.
These paintings hung up on our old cottage walls, are much more than just art to me;
When I grow up, I want to be a painter and from within those paintings I’ll breathe.

 

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

Olivia

He looked at her hungrily. The colours of her dress flowing gently side to side in the summer breeze, she was resplendent.
Olivia.
For he was only a boy, she was a woman, her ravishing skin made him blush.
Olivia.
For a boy could not win the heart of such a mature lady.
For a boy could only dream of her mind and physicality.
Olivia.
Her beauteous, bewitching face, so alluring, no words could describe her statuesque features.
Olivia.
Trying to think of a sophisticated first line to say to a first love, a first Valentine.
Though words escaped his young and fruitful mind.
Olivia.
“Olivia why do you make my heart yearn inside?”
“For I know I am just a boy, and you could never be mine.”
“For your lips are such a racy deep red, though I try so hard, how can I control myself, Olivia?”
The Spring came and she looked more beautiful than before.
The Summers refracted light, complimenting her skin, as she sat amongst the daffodils in her violet pinafore.
The Winters frost, brought her skin to a porcelain shade.
Autumn descended, her wrist full of ribbons and bracelets, handmaid.
For suddenly he was not a boy anymore, he was becoming a man.
His hands were bigger, his face was chiselled.
“I have been waiting for you, for all this time. Now I have grown, my love, please say you’ll be mine.”
Olivia.
She looked at him, running her eyes up and down.
No longer the boy who admired her, but a man.
His broad chest and Olive brown skin, felt warm as she moved slowly in.
His face so calm but his heart fluttering. The girl of his dreams.
Olivia.
They stood there in silence looking into each others eyes,
both as people at the same point in life,
both high on their physical delights, both fully grown, and looking divine.
Their bodies itching to get closer into each others skin,
their eyes locked into place, their mouths quivering.
No longer a boy, he pulls her in.
Knowing that he has won. He kisses her.
Finally her keeper.
His heart now belongs to Olivia.

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

Tainted

I hope you never love her, like you loved me;
never touch her cheek, whilst you kiss her gently.
I’d fall to pieces so easily, if you were to use the same words you spoke so softly.
Ever questioning what you and her may be.
Who is she?
Does she fulfil you needs better than I did? I tried.
Does her long blonde hair flow nicely to one side?
I hide all my scars under this old carpet of ours, pushed aside.
Do you hear me in the spare room at night? I cry.
Who is she?
I haven’t seen your eyes light up in such a long time.
I couldn’t give you that fire you needed inside. I tried.
Though I know I must be strong, I cant help but break,
when I reminisce about us and the life that we made.
Who is she?
I’ll start looking the other way, as you have now done.
I’ll acknowledge every glance in my direction. You won.
No longer bound to the chains that once held me so tight.
I promised myself that I deserve a better life.
Who am I?
I am the girl that you thought you knew.
I am the girl that would’ve of always loved you.
I am the one that will keep my head held high,
I’ll never speak a bad word. Hold my breath and sigh.
Who am I?
You will remember me, you’ll never forget,
one day your wake up so full of regret.
What an injustice you held over me,
but there was me crying and thinking so naively.
We both have are reasons as for why we grew apart,
though you were tainted by her and you showed no class.
I gave you my best, but maybe you needed more,
though I hate that you strayed, I cant blame you anymore.

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

us.

I look at her. Isn’t she just, well…beautiful.
I think about her, maybe her life…maybe her life is better than mine?
I obsess about her, I wish I could wear her skin for just one day!
I cry about her, how much I know she was sad inside.
I love her, not romantically but beautifully.
I forgive her, every word she said that cut.
I praise her, for she is such a talent.
Her hair deep and brown, chestnut.
We laugh together, most nights alone,
her voice, like a home away from home.
her forgetfulness and clumsiness,
her bright coloured scarfs, always polkadots.
Always messy handbags that are full to the brim,
always a spare tissue or lipstick when in need.
Always a desk covered in sticky notes,
always laughing at her chunky handwriting.
For she walks with me when I need a friend ,
she would comfort me for if I was to cry,
I do often wonder what its like to be her, she has such a creative messy mind.
I sit looking in the mirror.
Talking to myself again,
that girl I know in-front of me, she looks so interesting,
but without the constant praise or reminding, her confidence seems to shatter.
People often don’t realise the colourful ones also matter.
Though we may not have cuts, and open wounds, that are visible for people to see.
We may not talk about our worries, for we can put on a show so effortlessly.
Me and my multiple personalities.
us.

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

Our Life in colour

As I sit here in my kitchen, admiring the view, the vibrancy of the rapeseed leaves me breathless.
Smells of wild garlic penetrate the room. The sunlight blearing through the window distracts me from my work.

Feeling the warmth of the air on my skin, the breeze runs through my hair.
Sounds of machines, cotton gin, lying amongst the grass skin bare.

Are you the first one to spot a star in this crystal clear sky;
or is the midnight sun weighing down on us?
The touch of barley against my legs, as I run through the fields at night, sparing with wooden swords as though we’re knights deep in battle beneath the moonlight.

Cotton and barley, sunset colours of reds and golds,
warm nights in June, white dresses and marigolds.
You have always had a way with words that bring colour to my life, but you made my body shiver, the way you kissed me tonight.
Under the moon, the fresh scents of summer arouse me, as our bodies are intertwined on the fresh cut grass below.
As I sit there each morning musing in a sweet reverie, knowing an adventure awaits with you, when you come home.

© Jasmin Elizabeth 2018

The King

Decadent and obtuse such as a king unwilling to change his ideologies.
The judgement he makes, clouded by his self-worth and stubborn mind; no more simplistic or laborious than something as insignificant as an orange, however cursed with a curious mind.
Is it preposterous to suggest that a leopard can not change its spots? Or is it in fact that he is just obstinate?
Envious and riddled with hunger for the things he has not earned, unpleasantries spill from his lips like a ruined wine, so thick, its dark colour resembles blood.
However, this man has not been wounded by another man, only by his own sickened delusions.
Then as his lips turn to grey, and he lets out his final cry, only then will he see that he is alone, waiting to die.

©Jasmin Elizabeth 2018