We meet again in
the last hour of dawn
not yet, not yet!
my candle flickers -
not yet, not yet!
free your words-
it’s the eleventh hour;
your pen will bleed-
tear and anger;
your melody will be-
forgotten in the rain;
your scent will linger-
six feet under;
your wisdom will be-
trapped in the quicksand-
of your dear Sisyphus;
your beauty will be-
fed to scavenging worms;
you could have been
a phenomenal maiden.
it’s the eleventh hour
too late, too late.
Don't let your dreams die with you.
O fair Helena descending-
How could you not look at me?
You were once Narcissus in the meadow;
Kissing the soil-
Blooming with lavenders-
Basking in the afternoon sun-
Where did all your sunshine go?
Your blurry reflection-
Dismayed the goddess in you.
Faded golden lyre;
Withered Pierian roses;
Crushed altar of flame;
Ascend back to the divines-
Depart from this mortal coil;
Be the Narcissus in the meadow.
Inspired by Jon More
Lay your hands on my cold and fragile bottle;
hold the cork and twist me-
don’t stop until you hear me pop;
set my spirit free and I go astray-
into your soul so weary;
close your eyes, smell the earth in me-
herbs, tobaccos, vanillas, trees-
savor the aroma of heavens;
now pour me down in the empty glass-
of love and affection;
touch me with your lonely tongue;
indulge my warmth-
wrapping your delicate heart;
you lose control.
on wet wood
Black ants and poisonous snakes-
Creeped out and slithered around-
The rotten wood full of ugly desire-
As I ignite the fire.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
Summer of terror and discontent;
The funeral of Shakespeare’s sonnet-
As I weep in tragic.
on pouring rain
Sunday is in silent agony;
Lights out, curtains down;
Angry sky cries in vain-
As I mute the rain.
on bittersweet coffee
One, two and more of grandé
Iced-cold caffeine in my blue vein;
Hands are still, the world’s unstirred-
As I sip the last drop of despair.
This is the third part of my poem. Read "The Prologue" first, followed by "The Encounter".
You smell like a wet wood-
Freshly watered with rain;
Dried up by the crisp of the wind;
And golden shade of sunlight peeking through the leaves.
You reminded me the sonnets of Shakespeare-
Classic, romantic, and deep.
I swam into your thoughts but was drowned-
A renaissance man; I cannot fathom.
You sounded like a heavy rain-
Pouring carelessly on the hot tin roof;
I could listen to it, ceaselessly-
Under the white blank sheets on a lazy Sunday.
You tasted like the last drop of coffee;
Dripping through my throat, s-l-o-w-l-y.
Wanting for more-thirsty for the unknown.
A strong bittersweet addiction.
This is the continuation of my first poem called "The Prologue".
Zeus bothered the sleeping summer
And left the moon bewildered-
Dancing around earth clockwise,
Stars fell in complete mayhem.
And there came Poseidon in rage!
Waves reached the mighty sky
And never returned to its abode,
Abruptly, it stopped kissing the lonely shore.
Hades crawled out from the underworld
With the three-headed Cerberus
Wiggling its tail, mouth wide-open-
Summer was doomed.
Screaming to the deserted forest,
Echoed voice answered the call
Autumn turned silver from gold
Spring battled with Fall.
Turmoil awakened the sun
Stretching out its rays to the skyline
Coating the universe with warmth
Hope sprouted as the birds sang.
The gods went back to Olympus-
Left the earth in yellow embrace
Filled the clouds with pink and orange hues
Behind this milieu, I found you.
— The End —