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I wonder, do you ever wonder?
How far we have come along.
With all those fights and in all those thunder.
We managed to live so long.
You made mistakes and yes I did blunder.
Still, we forgave, as we know where we belong.
I remember, you remember how we met at first.
It wasn't the best nor the worst.
We were happy keeping alive the thirst
Looking back, I see us in each day submerged.
looking back on how we have survive so much and still together.
Azulene Azulia Jul 2019
Those clouds near me just give up a thunder,
Feeling so down, did I ever do a blunder?
Hello Prolly Apr 2019
6am
an exquisite time for a funeral
loud tolls of the sun
fresh morning breeze
here to dry moist faces

6:01am
a great time to realize
you are a part of the scene
standing on the sloppy green
looking around all bewildering

6:02am
the time 2 min after seven, you get it
it’s you - the one to bear the sorrows
to mourn for the loss
to carry the weight in guts

6 something
now the time does not matter
it’s you - burying your friend
the misbehaving devils angel
since ever a part of your hell

6 sins
only he could play all in one shot
magic up 6 deadly joys
the sinner and saviour
your very rare self

6 days
or even less
you contemplated and found
you shared the wisdom writing
on matters of truth and true love

6 guys
of yours in the meanwhile,
bricking him up, behind the scene
shutting the shy but calling friend out
lying you’d better live without

and now

Your guys were actually You
the blind and dead stupid You
who murdered your buddy in his best age
and 6, .... now makes no sense

All you could do is
speak to the mirror
asking for nothing
or everything

Hoping to reflect back maybe
it was just a call of mercy,
unordinary protection drill
that no one’s dead, not yet

Please please, but maybe...
you just missed the moment
to lay humbly the bouquet down
to say to rest in peace
The aches of this loss are yet to come my dear...
Liam C Calhoun Nov 2016
Strings sing blunder when
I'd wished you were there a cold,
Cold night years prior.
My sweetheart my soul's ,heart's solace
I am perfect lover and steadfast partner
Let me be yours to kiss you pace to pace
Let me be winner to commit this blunder

Cupid may fire his arrows right and left
To injure heart and to make it just bleed
At beauty's cleft heart is ready for  theft
Being red with blood heart ready to lead

My love let me take fire of beauty to burn
Let me be the victim of enchanting eyes
Let my love be on altar of time to discern
All love truth against beauty's innocent lies

Time will prove honesty of love in reality
Your alluring glances will make path bright
Let us sail together in this golden green sea
My love is like a virtue which is always right

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Amanda Francis Aug 2016
My desperation is not discreet.
It sprays off my tongue every time we meet.
Like the octopus squirts ink to evade capture.
Inky I love you's flood from my mouth, a Tsunami of rapture.

Loving you is the ocean and desperation is decompression sickness.
Whenever I come up to breathe my head spins, nitrogen bubbles explode in place of butterflies.
Isolated on this lonely island, my clouded mind tears me asunder.
If I die a living death  you would be my beautiful, poetic blunder.
Rapture: an intense feeling of joy or pleasure.
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
Blue is not sure where to find the propeller.
The motor boat sent to scotch the shimmer. The waves
break inside a jar, and the little pieces are swept up by the wind and made into mist.

The Jar is shaken, the titanic sinks,
and the seagulls peck at our eyes.
Covered in barnacles, the new-found fish men
wander onto the sand and get coated,
as in cornmeal,
ready to fry.

Infatuated and floundering
they wander
to water again.
Drinking death hand over fist,
they ring themselves out with simply a twist.
The fish flap their fins so forcefully;
trying to
be flying to
a sea called the sky.

With a crumbled-ed crust they say, “motherboat or bust”,
but the navigation of aviation is a compilation of great frustration
for fishes whose function
is on boats, wrapped up
in those silly greatcoats.
Yet they made it, or so they claim, and with only one flounder or flunder who had made a blunder to blame.

If only old skipper had been a bit quicker, he wouldn't have had such a queer story to claim.

— The End —