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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.”
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!
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...
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 purposes... 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.
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... 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.
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~
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 ugly 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 —