A girl dressed in a diaphanous gown,
spun from the ethereal combination of
dollops of moon shine and star light of the past,
visited me in secret, spent together one long night.
We had memorized each other's heady scent
smeared all over us in an earlier journey together.
like two trained sniffer dogs on a robber's trail.
We were overwhelmed by the wish fulfillment
seemed like we are in a life within a dream.
No way we won't meet as the hearts beat so close
and I was having visions of her all the time day and night.
On those encounters I wrote two poems with my blood.
As I was addicted to the recounting of those moments,
I wanted to smelt it in my imagination's golden crucible
thought that would make the alliance immortal
but forgot the fact that human follies never end!
"You are lucky,a rare flower she is" they'd tell me
and make me feel elated calling me a poet,
on account of just two poems for which,all I was worth.
Should I have known it's a dream,that takes a lot to go on.
On her strong wings she flew back to green hills above.
If I weren't a love fool, I'd have seen it coming from a distance.
after abandonment and the long night after,sun still reigns.
They still call me poet, I am hesitant to respond to it,
a melancholy poet of grief's wonder land, in non stop dance
with the experiences that illuminate transient existence?
Still do not know what to make of this two poem life!
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
A girl dressed in a diaphanous gown,
spun from the ethereal combination of
dollops of moon shine and star light of the past,
visited me in secret, spent together one long night.
We had memorized each other's heady scent
smeared all over us in an earlier journey together.
like two trained sniffer dogs on a robber's trail.
We were overwhelmed by the wish fulfillment
seemed like we are in a life within a dream.
No way we won't meet as the hearts beat so close
and I was having visions of her all the time day and night.
On those encounters I wrote two poems with my blood.
As I was addicted to the recounting of those moments,
I wanted to smelt it in my imagination's golden crucible
thought that would make the alliance immortal
but forgot the fact that human follies never end!
"You are lucky,a rare flower she is" they'd tell me
and make me feel elated calling me a poet,
on account of just two poems for which,all I was worth.
Should I have known it's a dream,that takes a lot to go on.
On her strong wings she flew back to green hills above.
If I weren't a love fool, I'd have seen it coming from a distance.
after abandonment and the long night after,sun still reigns.
They still call me poet, I am hesitant to respond to it,
a melancholy poet of grief's wonder land, in non stop dance
with the experiences that illuminate transient existence?
Still do not know what to make of this two poem life!
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