Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
.
A cloud falls from the sky,
a lead balloon of precipitation,
and cuddles the ground
like a long lost lover.
Dripping its cargo,
shedding tears along the way,
leaving a trail of damp memory
and a calm balm
for the Earth.

And a candle flickers
on a lonely table,
as a pen drifts across lines,
filling meaningless words
that never
convey the depths of separation.
The flame flares
as a waft, a draft,
creeps in a crack under the door,
adding a poignant touch
to the melancholy of atmosphere.
Gripping the pen with delicate unease,
the hubbub drowns inwards,
doubt rises in ascendancy,
the pen falls,
like a discarded relationship,
and the meaningless words
stop.




© Pagan Paul (21/11/18)
.
My brain is still on meltdown :(
.
We used to talk until the world went quiet
and the sun would about to wake
now it takes so much energy out of us
to ask how the other has been

We used to constantly say "I love you"
and now I say "I miss you"
and get nothing back in return

You always said that I deserve more
and maybe you were right
but that doesn't make me love you any less

It doesn't make this hurt any less
we're not the same
 Nov 2018 harlon rivers
SE Reimer
~

along the golden sands she runs,
swinging arms, matching stride;
crashing waves bring seagull crumbs,
deposit treasures with each tide.

sea shells scattered on the sands,
like incantations on the wind;
she gathers them amidst the strands,
blending voice above the din!

each gusty wave of her baton,
the wind is maestro to this band;
from cockle’s flute the highest pitch,
to conch’s cello, deep & rich.

the tulip’s voice of brass cornet,
of scallop’s rippling clarinet;
the kettle drum of florida’s cone,
and hammered strings of angel’s wings!

instrumental simplicity,
ancient chords, rehearsed refrain;
her call to join each voice unique,
each grain of sand, each clapping wave,

leaping toward orchestral stage,
calling forth their joyous praise.
till mistral bows in whispered hush,
a thunderous crash, their glad applause!

~

maestro -
a distinguished musician, especially
a conductor of classical music.

mistral -
a strong, cold northwesterly wind
that blows into the Mediterranean.

~
post script.

i walked upon the sandy beaches,
my lover’s hand in mine;
from ev’ry step ’cross rippling reaches,
flows their song from ancient times;
a song with every crashing wave,
of every ghost these waters claimed;
fills the air with hopeful longing,
song of love, their chorus haunting;
for each body held in depth’s repose,
each soul in song is lovingly released.
 Nov 2018 harlon rivers
Seema
I see blood red, when I close my eyes
And black falling stars, when I open my eyes
A darting arrow, right across the sky
With my name engraved in the sky

Rain of prickly thorns, brush through my skin
Stretching, brusing, tearing my skin
The strength to lift myself, is no more
The once life filled body is no more

Shattering leaves sing, dead songs
No rhyme or rhythm matches the songs
A distant footstep sheds a little hope
But it seems a delusion, a false hope



©sim
Next page