Miss More

Archive for the ‘A Little Bit Of Poetry’ Category

Fluent Beauty | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 22/06/2014 at 12:51 AM

I’ve been writing about this woman lately. I think she’s a prostitute, the high class kind of prostitute. The kind of woman that  those rich dudes trip on thin air over. Or maybe she’s not a prostitute, maybe she just uses her allure to get what she wants and there is nothing wrong with that.

She’s beautiful. She’s dangerous. She’s toxic.

I don’t know her name. All I know is that she’s fluent.


Fluent Beauty 

She’s a fluent beauty

Symmetry and seduction

Native to nightfall

Velvet her voice

Luxury her lips

Toxic her tender toxic

Savage is her love

As it simmers through the senile night

Luring you to new heights

She’s a cold blooded delight

picture wee small hours lonely woman

As you can tell, I am currently in a relationship with alliteration.

Until we meet again, Miss More.

Phoenix | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 21/05/2014 at 8:27 AM

Wondering what it would be like to be reborn in fire and smoke. Imagine the beauty, the freedom, the spectacle. I guess this poem is me showing my desire to be out of this world. Literary.



This life

How it suffocates

Turning breath to ashes

Time stops

And I am born again

A Phoenix

Rising from the ashes

When I fall

Don’t bury me

Burn me into ashes

Set me free

Bind me to the wind



Until we meet again, Miss More.


In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 09/05/2014 at 2:54 PM

“In the beginning it was perfect. Until the day it wasn’t.”

Domestic violence is something else that fascinates me. Why? I don’t know. I guess there’s something about love defined with violence that piques my interest. I remember very well that when I was about sixteen me and one of my good friends did manage to write a poem about domestic violence between us, it was called “STOP”, I only remember the first two lines.

Stop, with the terror and the violence

Stop, for I am slowly drowning in silence

This is for the girl trapped in a twisted dimension of love.




You wake up in a new day but your heart harbors old pain.

Quietly you drown in his twisted version of love. In the beginning it was perfect.

Red was the fire, the passion, the heat, of your love.

You never did like red. You preferred the neutral colours that helped you blend into the background; beige, ivory, grey, black. And then he happened. He rejuvenated you. He bought that poor girl plagued with insecurity out of the shadows and made her a woman in the sunshine. He was your sunshine. Happily, you basked.

Love is blind and unconditional. Until conditions change.

In the beginning it was perfect. Until the day it wasn’t.

Until the day he butchered your world and allowed his true colours to burst through. Until the day you realised that he put you on a pedestal only to tear down. Red was the colour of your blood as it gashed from the decorative lines on your leg. Purple are the pretty bruises now patterned on your back. Salty are the tears that burn your cheeks.

Salty are the tears that burn your soul.

You hate the mirror because it insists on showing you the pathetic creature that you have become.

Red is the colour of your love. In red you suffocate, watching your life slowly sink into nothing.

You wake up in a new day but your heart harbours old pain.


If this is you, know that you have the power to end it, the strength is somewhere within you, I need you to grab it as if it’s the edge of a cliff.

Until we meet again, Miss More.

Blue Living | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 01/05/2014 at 6:57 PM

This is dedicated to all those who have lost themselves, within themselves. I dare you break free. “Life is one big road with lots of signs, so when you riding through the ruts, don’t you complicate your mind. . . Wake up and live now!”


Blue Living

This is blue living

Trying to find my purpose

A reason

I am out of luck

Out of bounds

Out of touch

Long out of time

Free falling

In outer space

Trying to steady my jagged breath.



Until we meet again, Miss More.

Lady of Night | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 31/03/2014 at 1:21 PM

I honestly have a fascination with the seedy world of street walking. I don’t know what is is about that exchange that grabs my interest. One of these days I will blog about it but until then, I leave you with this. “Lady of Night” is dedicated to the girl who was forced into this life, the girl who drowns in the scorching lights, the girl that men shun in broad daylight but worship under the thick cover of night, the tragedy, the victim, the survivor.  The girl who knows nothing but bleakness, don’t write her off as dirt on the side of the road before you know where she’s coming from.


Lady of Night

Too stubborn to die

Too fractured to live

I roam the night


I am broken

I barely exist

Kissed by calamity

I embrace vices


I am bolted

In this hazy reality

Trapped in a loop of

Fast money, fast highs, fast life

I run fast

Clad in lace

Kissed by scorching lights

Lost lady of night



To the moralist prostitution does not consist so much in the fact that the woman sells her body, but rather that she sells it out of wedlock.

EMMA GOLDMAN, Anarchism and Other Essays

Love, Miss More

Blues | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 23/02/2014 at 3:02 PM


Lonely in a group of four

Six, eight, ten

A million

Table for one

I’ll take dessert to go  and

Sit in my corner

Tapping my feet to the silence

This is life

Confiding to the looking-glass

Waiting for the blues to pass


Until we meet again, Miss More

Everyone With Theirs | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 08/01/2014 at 2:14 PM

Everyone With Theirs

Watch life go by;

Everyone with theirs

We are all familiar strangers

Deliriously intertwined

Life is what it is

Breath and numbered heartbeats

All else are earthly vanities;

Everyone with theirs.


Until we meet again, Miss More.

We Fly | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 18/11/2013 at 12:40 PM

We Fly

Under the watchful gaze of the sun

We Fly

With our feet on the ground

Air in our lungs

Hands spread out for wings and the sound of our laughter for fuel

Under the watchful gaze of the sun

Where many have died

We live


Appreciate your life before you no longer possess it. Love, Miss More.

I said – A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 25/07/2013 at 9:58 PM

I Said

Breathe, he said

Grab the air when it comes your way

And let it be for me

He who keeps the cold at bay and brightens days.

Look me in the eye, I said

The glazed windows of my soul

My tongue the bolted door

A door wide open is useless in this world

But windows; I can allow a crack

So I dare you look me in the eye

Let’s see if you drown in the dark.

2013, yours truly

The Meaning Of Life + A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry, Views On Life on 20/06/2013 at 11:30 PM

Often I wonder if I’m suicidal because death is something that I find in lack of better word “interesting”. I think about it all the time. I honestly can’t wait to die because I want to know what the hell happens after. One of my friends once said “the only thing guaranteed in life is death” and she was completely right, that is the sheer reality of it.


For so long I’ve been trying to figure out the meaning of life and I think I may have found answer. Life is simply to be born, to live and then to die. There is no set meaning. Life is what you say it is. Life only has the purpose you attach to it. Still life is beautiful, we must live it to the full, because we are here anyways so we might as well. I plan to dedicate my life to making myself happy, and no there is nothing selfish about it because making others happy, will also make me happy, for there is no truly selfless act in the world other than the actions of a parent to a child.

The meaning of life is to give life a meaning. 

Now I leave you with a poem, one of a personal favorite of mine. I believe one day there will be silence. I don’t believe the world will end, I believe that we will end, because Death, the King that conquers all hates life, more than life (as in us) hates Death.


Death snatches, steals, loots.

Does whatever suits.

Death a creator. Death a destroyer.

Death cripples hearts,

Crushes health.

Death cruel. Death ruthless.

You better be scared.

Death is your arch enemy,

You will one day shake it’s hand.

It will smile at you,

Knowing exactly what it’s done.

Death has to be a man,

As it like to conquer all.

It takes and takes and takes and

Takes again.

Until one day, there’s nothing but silence.

by Maisha More, 2013

Love, Miss More.


Three Wishes From A Genie | A Poetry Tag

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 01/06/2013 at 7:07 PM

Hey it’s me again and yes I am alive. Exam period is over and I’m ready to get back in the blogosphere (what ever the hell that means, I just thought it sounds cool). This is a first for me cause I’m going to tag some of the writer bloggers I like on wordpress, I hope it works out good and if it doesn’t then I guess it doesn’t.

As the title suggests, I’d like the writers that I’ve tagged and who ever the hell else wants to do this to write a poem about the three wishes they would ask a genie to grant them. The poem can be in any style you want – go crazy – and if you do it, leave a comment linking to your creation. I know I don’t have to tell anyone to not be brief  and make a simple list because us poets are many things, just not brief.

One rule… don’t be smart ass and wish for ten more wishes or some shit cause that’s just “rude” and not very original if I’m honest. So here it goes.

My Three Wishes From A Genie by Yours Truly

I wish peace and happiness,

For all those I love and

Even those I hate.

For if misfortune plagued them,

I may start to sympathise,

Through sympathy, I may be able to just about stand them.

God forbid. I may even start to like them and

Love and likeness stand on two sides of a very thin line don’t they?


I wish they made me Queen of the universe for a day.

I would right all wrongs and wrong all those who do wrong.

Then I would decree a new word to replace wrong.

Because I just realised that the word wrong just sounds wrong.

Then I would order the good people of the universe in all my majesty,

That upon the end of my twenty-four hours reign,

They should make me Queen for eternity and the days after.


Since time is money, I wish to make an account of minutes,

I want to own all the time in the universe, so that I’d never again run out of it.

So that I could literary mean it when I say phrases like, 

“My time is precious” and use time to buy a present. 

If I owned all the time in the universe, 

No one would have the time to rebel against me,

As I sit on my throne of evermore.


I’m tagging.

Wish away 🙂 Love, Miss More

The YOLO Generation | A Poem

In A Little Bit Of Poetry on 24/02/2013 at 4:51 AM

I am in fact a poet as well as a master ranter, an avid reader and (I’ll get back at you, needed a list of 3). This is most probably a one off, since I do not plan on adding poetry to the mix on my blog, but I had to post this because this is my view on life. Enjoy….

The YOLO Generation by yours truly

This is a picture of the YOLO generation.

“Swag” generation. LOL generation.

This  is the facebook age.

Reality got dead.

Life lived in cyber space.

Creativity: extinct.

Individuality: banished.

Everyone trying to be different,

By being like everyone else.

Consequences: forgotten.

Dreams and aspirations: vanished

Attention the only motive.

Period videos and twitter beef.

Self-worth measured by followers and likes.

Self-respect: a thing of the past.

Snooki, Riri, Nicki, Kim.

Rolemodels of the YOLO generation.

13 year old; getting drunk, pushing prams, living “large”.

14 year old; drug addict, porn addict, sex addict.

This is a picture of the forget tomorrow generation.

DGAF generation. Music in, world out generation.

Who wants to save this messed up generation?

Whatcha think? Don’t be shy.

Love, Miss More.

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