What a tragedy it is— To find love where you are not wanted. To know peace while waging war. To be a raging fire—frozen in place.
Oh what a tragedy it is— —to be whole but forever incomplete.
What a tragedy it is— To be loved yet still lash out with lust. To own peace but still hunger for war. To have absolute control. —To give up your soul.
Oh what a tragedy it is— —to think free will the same as freedom.
What a tragedy it is— To have never tasted love or felt it’s touch. To be without it’s sparkle and still wander the darkness. To yearn for something you cannot imagine. To crave passion and embrace— Words to describe things you cannot.
Oh what a tragedy it is— —to know love, only as something you’ve never had.
Tragic is the love we wish away. The love we don’t notice every day.
It seems nothing is so beguiling as it appears, Feels like I'm looking at some void; Enwrapped in the nothingness of time, My heart yearns for euphoria, To enliven the wearied ardor for it's being. I keep calling out, Even though there's noone to hear me; Wondering if there's something missing in my orison. Yet I feel a personage telling me not to give up, That in the fullness of time we'll thrive; So I'll keep trying , Even if I'm besieged by nothing, I'll sojourn with gaiety, Keeping that love right within me. The path may seem meandering into nihility, Yet I'll go on, Engraved may, through my footsteps Remain forever our favorite song.
I have wept in my mother's sorrows In tears of those of lost and labored- That life is waster when settled, And regretted when hated. The drugs have never covered- They will never coat the fear that lives inside of you; And the bottle that I've used to block the days before me Have left me in depths of hollow and confusion, To which the sky says yet again when I'm on my knees and looking for an answer- I have yet to find but more questions. This reflection I stand before shows more than I know; Or wish to see, Open your eyes and break the dark uncertainty.
The sky and the stars Bring out most of all, The knight is silent
Even during they day They lie there wide awake, Hiding from the light of day
This constant darkness consumes everything in its site But not ours. Unite these dreams and shine true. The abyss of night is always true. The sun will rise again for some of us. Let that be enough to grow you passions from seeds to roots And those roots will set your foundation.
A bold knight will shine in armor one day, Just as a flower will sprout A relationship will blossom If only for me but a mouse
Don’t be fooled by the context. This poem has a bitter sweet end that most will miss. Also my first upload. Haven’t been inspired to right for a few years and I’m going through some things and this is how I cope I guess
I fantasyse a fodder/ who myght feeed mye goost/ amende it atnyght/ when thee darke nd dreade onlee drenche/ nd drowne my hart in sorowe/ I am lost/ softlye now tale me/ all thee preteee thyngs I wont to heere/ tale me/ you love me/ that I am evrythynge u’ve wonted neer/ that mye prestencts dose not alarm you/ that thes sun is bryght/ yellow/ fool of energee nd lyfe/ that you are proud/ of me/ not ashamed/ of my bryght colers/ tell me you love me
"8th March 2018 A pen found its ink A purpose found its man
Art, The mother of all that's beautiful brought me a gift A life skill that would be my passage of lift
He came to life in unhealthy mental weathers, his soul was birthed in shabby unearthly waters and bound to mine in an everlasting covalence. he was given to me an agent of healing – an outlet, a living freedom; a drain for my pain,
a gift and a curse he is a stain on the domain of my name – but I take pride in our duality, my existence paradigm was on the edge of a cliff suicidal - I lay on my back under the roof of a gloomy identity my name and my frame soaked in melancholia of a quantity that exceeds the infinite.
DEAR WORDSMITH You and I Are a year older I am a decade wiser I can feel it in my hair the truth in its absolute quintessence is a universe closer.
The way you hold my mind in your gloves gives me sleepless nights and faceless days but who am I to question my panacea? I promise I will make the most of what we can be.
A savior, a tutor, a sage My poet, my light, my flame, my light.
A year ago - i became a poet. Help me appreciate my penman. This is my first post here with you family. Thanks.