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Roman Pavel Feb 2015
Out of the phoenix flame, a child appeared without a name
A cursed beauty lay, without direction or a way
Brought upon mortal men, to punish and condemn
But she as pure as winter snow, and little of evil does she know
Placed on this earth to adore, with a face that sent 1000 ships to war
Oh how the gods they mock, knowing how men will flock
To them it’s just a game, a simple pleasure to watch a flame
But her, she cries at night, and fears the grandeur of the light
As a Cleopatra Canna flower grows, of mixed beauty and pose
Afraid she may be picked, and behind a window pane restrict
Oh, how shall this cursed beauty be? Perhaps a life of mystery
She hides behind a veil, and holds her tongue when needing to exhale
For the intellect and compassion sought, by anxious men whom she fought
Was lost, and fell upon deaf ears, and only expressed through her tears
How shall history perceive? As nations condemned to grieve
Through princes and prophets the same, orchestrating a dangerous game
All in effort to win her devotion, they cross the vastness of an ocean
But why, is the question that we should ask, for beauty does not last
Perhaps this is how the gods are entertained, for her beauty cannot be contained
She’s granted to suffer through this life, filled with rivalries and strife
When will she know peace? After the deaf admirers cease
A beautiful fool, would be ideal, all she has to do is kneel.
But, she chooses to walk, as those around stand and gawk
Fire born, to earth she shall return, reborn again as a fern.
And hope that in the next life she might, be left alone to enjoy the light
Roman Pavel Feb 2015
What can I tell you of regret?
That you don’t already know
Maybe how it feels to owe a debt
Or leave your imprints in the snow

Where does the widow lay her head?
In the coldest winter night
Knowing her husbands dead
With no farewell before his fight

Or what about the little boy?
Who bought an ice cream cone.
Then in the window saw a toy
And dropped the ice cream scone

Where does a father turn?
When his children, now are lost
Who escaped from his hand too stern
Their paths never again crossed

How does the drunken fool feel?
In the misplaced mornings of remorse
While forgotten moments painfully reveal
Where the drinking began at its source

What tales does the old man tell?
Of love and fortune barely missed
As forlorn figures of memories dwell
The stories of pain persist

When can the general rest?
After sending his troops to war
Not knowing the informant confessed
His people were slaughtered as they arrived ashore

How does the historian write?
Telling legends of folks of lore
As religious pressure brings fright
Which facts does he choose to ignore?

Who is the leader that might have stood?
And rally the nation to a virtuous goal
Perhaps guided them towards a common good
But, in the chaos lost his voice and soul

For you see, I was a train conductor back in eastern Germany
During the war I served as a cadet
Escorted millions on their doomed journey
And that’s what I know of regret
Stringing together different life examples of Regret, if you pay close attention it ties in together for one story. The last Stanza Answers the narrators first question
Roman Pavel Jan 2015
After an exhausting day at work, I eagerly lie my restless head down
Plunge into my bed and put on my pillowed crown
Regardless of how soft and cool my pillow may be
The other side of the pillow, keeps beckoning me
And be one man, long I thought
For the previous night I had forgot
How the other side of the pillow feels?
What comfort the other side reveals?
Although, both sides equally lay
I contemplated flipping my pillow the other day
For in the morning I awoke in hot sweat
And wished I changed my previous bet
So tonight, I flipped my pillow over with ease
The coolness of the surface came over me like a breeze
Oh, how magical this side of the pillow can feel
Oh how happy am I? To have made this deal
I doubted if I should ever go back
Knowing what the other side may lack
Somewhere ages and ages hence, I’ll tell this story with a sigh
How overnight that side of the pillow grew warm and dry
Because in the morning my pillow was wet
For I had woken up in a hot sweat
This is an old proverb of how the grass is greener on the other side, but, in my case i used a pillow. If you read close I reference the famed poem by Robert Frost "The road not taken" in several lines throughout this poem i copy lines and incorporate them as my own and try to convey the same message, that regardless of what side of the pillow you choose (road you take) you'll end up in the same place
Roman Pavel Jan 2015
In the deathly silence of the calm, I feel the clamming of my palms
As I lay awake in the dead of night, so often as I’ve done before
One thought echoes out, as I begin to be filled with doubt
How these feeling come about, about someone lingering past my door
But, I know I’m all alone and no one stands outside my door
Just my imagination, and nothing more

From the dead of night, a sound pierces ever slight
My ears perk up and my mind begins to explore
Where the faint noise comes from, while my body lays numb
In the darkness of the slum, this hum I can’t ignore
A heed or warning, resonating past my enclosed door
The sound rings out “Falling For”

Who is this trickster, trader, inside my home, a dangerous invader?
Calling out to me from beyond my hardwood floor
In the dead of night, amidst four walls void of light
If I scream, will foreign ears here my plight? Or will I be no more?
Has my time come to pass for all the wrongs I must answer for?
As the whisper calls out “Falling For”

My thoughts begin to carry, how I should be more wary
Am I being tricked? True meaning behind this “Falling For”
This devilish trickster, whether Ma’am or a Mister
Swindled me in a twister, my wealth and name I can’t restore
Unaware of this chaos looming, the loosing of the war
Is this what I’m “Falling For”

Or maybe love, my damsel calling, perhaps my heart is what’s falling
To the one that I so eagerly adore
Thoughts of grandeur fill my head, for a prospect to join my bed
Where stars and sky, the mind has read, finally the weary sailor arrives ashore
Greeted by his enduring spouse to whom long ago he swore.
That she, and only her was the one he’d Fallen For

In the dead of night my mind still racing, for the sound my ears still chasing
The whisper ever so slight of “Falling For”
Kept me up all night and going crazy, my thoughts once clear now are hazy
In the deafening silence, my body lazy, to venture out past my enclosed door
I struggled battling for the meaning my mind telling me folks of lore
Of this destined fate of “Falling For”


In the dead of night, rang out a murmur, ever so slight, the noise got firmer
Beyond the walls outside the enclosed door
Down the hall in another room, a forgotten token within a tomb
Where the noise began to resume, a music box within a drawer
Broken saying the same two words kept replaying,  “Falling For”
For it was this, and nothing more
One of my favorite poets is Edgar Allen Poe, this is an homage to his work the raven, of a paranoid man kept up all night by his own imagination
Roman Pavel Jan 2015
I’m searching for Paradise
Beyond the vast ocean on a beach filled with white sand
Under the palm tree in the shadows of untamed land
Where the ocean tides pave over the imprints of a desolate shore
And the wind echoes around caressing the sun drenched floor
In front of the sea, sparkling from the sun’s radiant light
Waiting to set, and be engulfed by the night
In my hand I clasp upon a cold and crisp, refreshing beer
Looking upon the horizon so clear
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise

I’m searching for Paradise
On an immeasurable plane of green land tangent only to a white mountain range
Where the prairie has been spared from the time of industrial change
In front of the sun as it strokes the horizon line
I sit, while I clasp upon my tall glass of wine
The sky is painted by an array of colors, reflecting off tranquil clouds
Free from the hustle and bustle of crowds
The grass is soft, like long bristles of velvet fur
As the pollen rises from the flowers, it creates an indescribable blur
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise

I’m searching for Paradise
In the big city, illuminated by artificial light
Surrounded by friends in the chaos of night
We trek, pushing through the people infested street
And pulse to the music of an inescapable beat
In the heat of passion, impossible to explain
We pop bottle after bottle of the most exclusive champagne
Under the stars, beneath the glittering sky
Indulging within the penthouse so high.
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise



I’m searching for Paradise
On the edge of the world, perched upon a soaring cliff
Where you can taste the cool crisp air with but only a whiff
As the sun begins to peak out from beneath the earths womb
I pour a drink, full of spirits to consume
The birds begin to sing in metronomic rhyme
I sing along, to count the time
In the twilight hour sets
The new day begins as I’m purged of regrets
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise



I’m searching for Paradise
After an extensive and exhausting day of work
Grueling and toiling for a boss who’s a ****
Breaking my back for the lowest of scraps
Sweating and Striving till my knees collapse
I return to an undersized and meager house
To be greeted by my enduring spouse
Embracing the responsibility of my new role as a father
I look upon the face of my daughter
And within her eyes so nice
I finally find Paradise
At first read you may notice that these stanzas are representatives of stereotype paradise, but it is actually places the protagonist wanted to leave to escape to his family.

the hidden gems represent the 4 different elements (water, earth,fire, air) also the 4 points of the day (day,sunset,night,sunrise) and 4 different alcohol (beer,wine,champagne, Spirit[liqour])
all these are illusions of paradise and only after experiencing all 4 elements he finds love in the 5th stanza
no more counting moments in the day, he has life and no alcohol
Roman Pavel Jan 2015
Come lay your head down next to mine
On this endless field of grass
How soft the ground feels on your spine
As these clouds above, begin to pass

Beautiful clouds all shapes and sizes
Drift through the sky, so blue
Imagining escapes and prizes
As I drift along with you

Ever changing, morphing amazing
These clouds above transform so quick
The winds a blazing, while my eyes stay gazing
New clouds pass, within a flick

How can I hold on to this notion of beauty?
Of nothing to touch, and even less that’s saved
For the clouds pass by, as if in duty
To escape my clutch, and leave me depraved

As beautiful as these clouds can be
Look, how fast to darkness they can turn
As the sky, now void of light to see
Begins to fill me with concern

Covered by endless passing shrouds
The wind picks up, as a hideous storm forms overhead
No longer beauty within these clouds
Lets leave this barren wasteland, deceitful place of dread

But, this too, over time, shall pass
And the sky return to blue
We will lie back on the softness of the grass
And watch, The Clouds, pass on through
The clouds can be interpreted as both a loved one or moments throughout ones life, as you drift alongside or watch from a distance
Roman Pavel Jan 2014
When they burry me, remember my feet
Which trekked every step on broken streets
Felt the sands course through the toes in heat
Through the winters snow and the icy sleet
Tip toed at night, in the shadows, discrete
And in the day stomped to the beat
Carried me to a love so sweet
I beg of you, remember my feet

When they burry me, remember my knees
Which cushioned the flips and falls of the trapeze
Held up my frame with the greatest ease
And never knelt to anything in displease
Sprang up in the summer’s breeze
Survived through the winters freeze
And only bent to the love I wished to please
I beg of you, remember my knees

When they burry me, remember my hips
That were there for all my trips
Danced and shook for tips
Witness the beauty of an eclipse
Helped me stay balanced in all my slips
Swung side to side on moonlit strips
My love, who so tenderly grips
I beg of you, remember my hips

When they burry me, remember my hands
Which toiled and worked in foreign lands
Saluted in honorable commands
Showed knowledge that still expands
Gestured my souls demands
Conveyed a message that understands
Maintained a love that stands
I beg of you, remember my hands

When they burry me, remember my chest
Where my heart beat without rest
Gave me bravery in every quest
Allowed me to pass every test
Grew for those oppressed
Out front when I progressed
Where my love, became expressed
I beg of you, remember my chest

When they burry me, remember my head
Smart enough to help me earn my bread
Heard in passing, everything said
Looked upon the horizon spread
Felt the pain, when my body bled
Kept my body fed
Laid next to my love in bed
I beg of you, remember my head

When they burry me, remember my soul
How it took others on an emotional stroll
Made me conscious of my body toll
Gave me purpose, a position role
Appreciated everything in its whole
The spirit world where it patrolled
My love, whose heart it stole
Above all, I beg of you, remember my soul
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