I am not as human as I used to be.
Sure, I crossed the threshold of childhood
smoothly,
but only as smoothly as one can cross
a river ending in a
cascade
a road ending in a
cliff
a trial ending with a
sigh

You never remember when you lost something,
or where. Was it on the road back from school? Did someone
steal
it from you?

So when did I lose touch? And where?
Did my childhood
fall from my pocket by mistake,
or
was it
stolen away,
before I could realize
what it meant
to me?

Something happened, before, beneath;
like a flower buried under snow,
I am not as human as I used to be.

And no more shall I part
from the stone which is my heart,
I choose an ending from the start;
and I think I need to breathe.

And no more shall I try and try
to change a murmur to a cry,
to trade a whimper for a sigh,
because today, I have to breathe,

because the heart is a cold stone.
And bones don't break that are a stone;
and all around the world is stone,
One stone, left in the flames to seethe.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

You epitomize rhyming poetry,
because these rhymes do not bind you,
or rather you have not let yourself be bound by these rhymes,
as so many others have.
Your rhythm and rhyming do not hold back your poetry:
on the contrary, these rhymes allow your poetry to be stronger.
You may not know it, but this is a spectacular quality. Write,
and never be afraid of writing.

I read all of your poetry from the beginning because from the very first poem I deemed that it was worth my time.
We are a family, by heart, and not by blood; there is no foe.
and
I am never blind to not see the world's perfect wonders.
You describe yourself as an optimist, and rightfully so. This line is beautiful. The whole poem is awesomely crafted, and once again, the rhymes don't obstruct the poem's meaning and significance, and only enhance it.

The canvas of black paint and glitters of gold.
A story that was left untold.
To golden new, from rustic old.
Too clear, yet too bold.
Your use of rhythm in this poem is very impressive. It's unconventional, and it works. The imagery of the black paint is beautiful. I love how the rhythm drops at the end; it's literally bold.

I have watched the stars, for they are like your eyes.
I saw it. I made a wish to an entity from afar.
Never was I wrong to see things that are lies.
A light was beaming. It was a broken star.
The line Never was I wrong to see things that are lies really stayed with me. It's a powerful sentence and sticks right into the poem's theme. The way I interpret it is as "It's okay to delude yourself, as long as you're happy," which links back to the popular phrase "oblivion is bliss." Also, A light was beaming. It was a broken star is entwined with the previous line in the idea that we really can chose to see only what we wish to see. Who is this broken star? I'm really curious.

Anyway, thank-you for publishing your work. It's poets like you that makes HelloPoetry a real blast. Keep submitting your work!

I dreamt up your arms last night;
they could have been a thousand birds
a thousand birds for every word
you typed up in the night

In the night I see you like a
memory that never was
In the light I see you as
the One you’ll never be

In the night I want you like a
cure to a disease
In the light I want you like a
storm to a still sea

I dreamt up your kiss last night;
it could’ve lasted a thousand miles
a thousand miles for every smile
you sent out in the night

You say the sound is beautiful,
of rain
against your roof,
and God knows I would die for e’en
a little bit of proof.

And God knows I would die to be there, cradled in your arms;
you tell me of the weather,
how it sets off your alarms.

You’d tell me of the
morning birds
and sing to me a song;
oh Ocean! How I crave your kiss!
My heart wants to be wrong.

Because I picture you at dawn,
your body holding mine,
my heart wants to be wrong.
I say:
my heart wants to be ‘fine.’

Despite my cravings, Ocean,
‘spite my dreams of us entwined,
I tell you that my current state
Is far,
so far
from ‘fine.’