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renseksderf Jul 1

revolutions of the second hand
innumerable to the watchful eye
has not comforted this bruising
nor can this heart run far enough

away from the pulsing gangrene
when off the darkest mile it tread
in the cooling of a fading day that
gentle crushing fixed completely

drowning in despondent smiles
wafting wavelets forlorn, wailing,
whispering affections now silent
wanting a happier, more innocent time

renseksderf Jun 30

In this lifetime of striving
childhood's tentative bumbling,
youth's arrogant impertinence,
middle-aged regimented conceit,
in old age, encrusted intolerance;
when will we likely ever win?

renseksderf Jun 24
filled with melancholy
mood lit by lampshade
names and faces dissipate

weathered post it sticks
if only the memory did
renseksderf Jun 13
some time, somewhere out there

someone had said
that one part of poetry
is a reservoir that holds
all the sadness of this world

What then does this say of a poet?

it is not seen how
that portion poets bear
bare on virginal leaves
all their flight and fears

are tears morphed in pressed ink
renseksderf Jun 9
as soon as it's spoken
as soon as it's heard
words   e v a  p  o  r   a   t   e
words depreciate
so we try to keep them frozen
and chisel them onto poems
with a hope, come melt-time
a fossilised facsimile resides
How poetry can be seen as mining for gems, cutting, polishing, presenting... perhaps develops a good attitude toward the 'fashioning' of poems.
renseksderf Jun 5
When your winter breaks into spring
think of new and wonderful things

while autumn creeps passed your window
break this winter free of sorrow

wait upon seasons - wait on life
live each day loving - escaping

weave each day's new strands - engaging
one day looking back - mem'ries rife.
renseksderf Oct 2015
his tears used to wake him
from an unduly prolonged delay

her smiles used to hurt him for
their beauty his heart, dismay:

their love had locked them up
and threw away the only key

and mile upon mile of wishful thinking
pushed them further away, though free

he looked into a well-used mirror to find
the devil he danced with was himself

and the fireflies that once lit their canopy
have also lost their former glee
renseksderf Oct 2015
an ailing soul
bereft of starlight's

superb glimmer
and woollen warmth.  
Mayhap, stellate glow

in the stillness
of tranquil flight,
their counsel, console.

Humbly, we plea--
hymn of the night,
come and tarry awhile.*

_ _ __ ✏
renseksderf Jun 2
Were it not for one to play buffoon

or to say of none we're way too soon

involved in peddling mass hysteria

when it's been held in each posterior

consciousness - makers of peace are

blessed. So ever to be near or far

we at our disposal have in hand

a power to write upon our sand.
renseksderf Oct 2015
Once prismatic brilliance;
brilliant only through borrowed light;

alone again in darkness, glum;
gleams, instant companion of night --

blind to grief and deaf to joy,
save by pristine thought, on lonely height:

a lone, canine howl reports and echoes,
as nocturnal critters hide, out of sight.*

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