.
She sits upon the cold grey stone,
waiting for he whom she craves,
counting down the longest moments,
perched beside the Ancient Grave.

Soon he will be wooing her,
making her heart swell like a wave,
taking her safely into his arms,
standing beside the Ancient Grave.

So entwined shall the lovers be,
to each a love they willingly gave,
naked and intimate in complete ecstasy,
laying beside the Ancient Grave.

And when its time to part again,
it would surely sadden the brave,
she watches until he disappears,
and settles into her Ancient Grave.


© Pagan Paul (20/12/17)

Hey,
It's Christmas night
And Santa's not in sight
Tho the stars shine bright
Something seems not right
Am holding my memories tight
Feelings pour in, while emotions fight
My fears turning into tears
A lonely Christmas since four years
Hopeless moments, no one cares
Darkness seems to be my true friend
The wailing of my spirit has no end
Yet, I've lit a candle to shed some light
In my dark corner, over a height
The night is beautiful, with decorations
On trees with antique creations
It's a silent night
A Holy night
Having cookies and milk,
Coz Santa's not coming tonight...

©sim

When letters wait
to pounce on a blank page
when thoughts crowd the mind
like frothing **** in a pond
I keep wondering
what poetry is to me
what poetry is to many

Is it not the language of the heart
with no intervention of gray matter
the unlocking of closed vaults
stirring the embers of love, hurt or pain
or giving a free rein to fancy
and flying on magic carpets
to lands forlorn

Sometimes it is
a glide into a sea of tranquillity
an escape from
the humdrum of the world
a flash of liberation
from assaults of pain
a sedative
to numb the turmoil
a sanctuary
for a burdened heart
a window
to look at the world through
a companion
when one is inconsolably alone
a candle flame
in a darkening world
a cloth line
to hang the ***** laundry
a water lily blooming
in the pool of tears
a shelter
in homelessness

sometimes it is a ladder
to climb up to Heavens
an angel on wings
with tidings of hope
peace in a world
braced for war

Poetry, if you are all these
let us fall at your feet
bless us in our art
may we splurge in fancy
and conjure up worlds from words!

our poems may not be light houses
but could be fireflies
on a starless night!