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  Apr 2015 tian
i am miss brightside
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
tian Apr 2015
Through the dark valleys I speak
Wandering, the great perhaps I seek
To light this vast and lonely place,
To share the truth about His grace

*Serving my God in a very special ways
4/13/15
tian Mar 2015
I suddenly felt tired
*so I give up on life
Life struggles
tian Mar 2015
Can you see my efforts?
I guess you can't
I was there in your darkest hours
But you didn't see me
My presence?
All over that place
I tried to decipher
Yet you don't want me to
I tried to pick you up
Yet you rejected my hand
I try everything to make you smile
Yet you keep on thinking negative things
When will this ever end? When? Answer me
I guess, it's all you,
You've been faking it all along
A mist traveling on it's own.
So I started to write what I feel right now. Sorry for not putting some rhymes, it's unorthodox kind of poetry.

I walked in a path full of knives and thorns just to make it through you, yet you don't want me to enter.
3/26/15
tian Mar 2015
When I gape into your eyes, I see no reflection
When I decipher your face, I see no expression
When I examine your body, I see no possession
When I stare into your lips, I see no confession

*When I look in front of a mirror, I see great depression
The title is a wordplay about Wasted Efforts.
3/19/15
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