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I miss––for still I miss.
My lips are stone, and cannot kiss.
My year was long;
What is this "bliss"?
What is love?
I can no longer reminisce.

I miss––for still I miss.
Heart is empty; no roar, no hiss.
A year, and you're still gone,
And poems are written into dawn.
Thoughts are dark like an abyss.
Finally an actual poem... as the months pass by, it only gets worse.
 Mar 4
Ivana Rodriguez
Their eyes were like the stars—
But stars are not blue,
Nor green,
Nor the deepest shade of brown.
**** watch people not read this note section, but this is another parody on those wannabe poets that think by making prose aesthetically arranged and making it look like a stanza is poetry. If you know, you know.
Also, watch this trend because it’s “aesthetic”.

Also, Shakespeare’s sonnet gave me the idea for this ****. Hence the title.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
 Dec 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
Flower speckled plum.
For once it was the flower,
And not the whole field.
Plum is referring to the deep purple colour.
Also, I have a second version where in line one the word “speckled” is changed to “coated.”
 Dec 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
Wind stings and nips at
My cheek, but it’s nothing like
Your seasoned kisses.
Kisses that I am lacking
From your sly lips: bitter-sweet.
Bitter-sweet is bitter because of the cunning and manipulative lips, and is sweet because, indeed, my ‘lover’s’ kisses were magical—entrancing!
 Dec 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
I am missing, and still I miss.
Reminisce, is it? Well, I reminisce.
It’s been more than far too long;
I am still without a bliss,
And your touch,
And your kiss.

I am missing, and still I miss.
The silence in my heart roars—
No more does it hiss.
9 months gone wrong;
I’m weary; almost gone.
Darling, my memory of you I cannot dismiss.
It wasn’t a lie
When you told me that time flies.
You said I’ll be forever alone,
But I didn’t listen, and said goodbye.
Now we will die,
And never reunite...
 Dec 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
w e  a r e  t h e  o c e a n . . .

      y o u  a r e  t h e  s u n s e t . . .

                        I  a m  t h e  s t a r l e s s
                                                         s k y . . .
Personally, I hate this type of poetry, and don’t even find this poetry, but I had a thought and thought it should go on here for aesthetic perposes... yeah... this does not make sense, but hey, it’s all about aesthetics, right?

Update: honestly, this was made as a parody on those Rupi Kaur type of “poems,” and it really concerns me that this has more views than some of my actual poetry...
 Oct 2018
Lord Byron
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:—
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.
 Oct 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
Ocean tide, please wash away
All of the misery from yesterday.
And my past, and the winter.
White, frantic snow that made me bitter.

Draw in the sunshine and the love.
Take back a previous life that was rough.
Ocean tide, I know you can
Help me see my love again.

Ocean tide, release your wave.
Blend in with the melted snow and rain.
Move my boat to find my treasures,
Or my pile of long lost letters.

Gold locks and chains buried deep.
I thought that my love was one to keep.
Ocean tide, do be brave,
Though this path is somewhat unsafe.

Ocean tide, it’s getting late.
Do not make me sit and wait.
Search the seas, maybe sky.
I want to see my love tonight.

Splash around your waves of salt.
The loss of my love was all my fault.
Ocean tide, do me well.
I’ll keep the secret––shhh... I shall not tell.

Ocean tide, it’s now or never
To find the person I thought I’d lost forever.
The wind is too light to drift you astray.
Please don’t take long or my dead heart will decay.

There is a secret that I only know,
And the time seems so very long ago
That I stepped up and set out to find
My one true love with the ocean tide.

There is the secret which I only know,
Washed away together with the past and snow.
The secret is that with the ocean tide,
Forever one may never hide.
 Oct 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
I miss, and I miss.
But who to kiss, dear? Who to kiss?
It’s been far too long;
Where’s that bliss?
And your touch?
And your kiss?

I miss, and I miss.
With silence my heart may only hiss.
Seven months too long.
I’m weak, not strong!
Darling, I need your sweetened kiss.
~A little thought in math that morphed into a poem~
 Oct 2018
Ivana Rodriguez
Autumn has nothing on me now;
Summer has changed me as a whole.
But winter is coming soon, I fear,
And I'm afraid by spring I'll have no soul.

Spring: a season's anticipation,
Awaiting the exciting summertime...
Crashing down comes ice and snow,
And brings me to the winter-rhyme.

Winter, bearing **** days––
To bring out nips upon the skin,
And tears to turn to killing hail,
And morals to turn to bitter sin.

Autumn, so full of nothingness:
Empty, and dead, and decaying-brown.
Leaves that swarm the dried-out air
Like clumps of ashes falling down.

Summer, the warm, and lovely season––
"Hurry up," I say, "and run, run, run."
I'm missing sun in every corner;
I'm missing freedom; I'm missing fun.
I don't know about this poem... comment, please...(?)
I did not want to post this at first, but it gave me a decent reason to procrastinate and not do homework.

— The End —