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Somewhere in the Universe
A poet. That's all you need to know.
Poems
Victoria Edwards May 2019
sepia
Victoria Edwards
May 2019
the paper, torn
old garments, worn
faces, forlorn
ancestors, born
towns, dust
forbidden, lust
crime, just
metal, rust
these days were sepia
like everything around
the trees, the grass, the lovers
even the cobbled ground
trapped in torn parchment
in a long forgotten attic
in a colorful world
more theatrical, dramatic
sepia, sepia, sepia
and only still
forgotten, denied
only a cabinet to fill
and soon, you and I too
sepia will take
our faces drained of color
nothing left to make.
old garments, worn
faces, forlorn
ancestors, born
towns, dust
forbidden, lust
crime, just
metal, rust
these days were sepia
like everything around
the trees, the grass, the lovers
even the cobbled ground
trapped in torn parchment
in a long forgotten attic
in a colorful world
more theatrical, dramatic
sepia, sepia, sepia
and only still
forgotten, denied
only a cabinet to fill
and soon, you and I too
sepia will take
our faces drained of color
nothing left to make.
Willie Bryant II
Sep 2013
Fall has been my favorite season since seeing the sight of multi colored leaves, laying amongst each other in silent beauty. I guess thats why I loved your hair so much. Auburn with flashes of blonde like capturing dark moments in sepia.
I want so badly to believe I'd decline the opportunity to bathe my beaten skin in your serenity, one last time. But alas, my seas run deep with fleeting hope of you, and me, unbreakable like skyline pines fighting off northern winds, akin to the ebb of leaves painting the fall ground, captured in sepia.
Fall has been my favorite season since the allure of its equinox, balanced out my day and night. Like your touch balanced my strength, hushed my troubles, and gave life to my harmony, equal to capturing dark moments in sepia.
If only for the sake of peace, bask in my elixir at the end, before the sun burns out, and fall turns to endless cold. Before its equinox is lost among the shuffle, the skyline pines give in to the wind and the leaves turn to cinders. Let it be birth into fruition, before the seas run dry, before there is no longer you or I. And let this dark moment be captured, in sepia.
I want so badly to believe I'd decline the opportunity to bathe my beaten skin in your serenity, one last time. But alas, my seas run deep with fleeting hope of you, and me, unbreakable like skyline pines fighting off northern winds, akin to the ebb of leaves painting the fall ground, captured in sepia.
Fall has been my favorite season since the allure of its equinox, balanced out my day and night. Like your touch balanced my strength, hushed my troubles, and gave life to my harmony, equal to capturing dark moments in sepia.
If only for the sake of peace, bask in my elixir at the end, before the sun burns out, and fall turns to endless cold. Before its equinox is lost among the shuffle, the skyline pines give in to the wind and the leaves turn to cinders. Let it be birth into fruition, before the seas run dry, before there is no longer you or I. And let this dark moment be captured, in sepia.