I don't actually know if this qualifies as a haiku (there are way too many characteristics for classifying haikus) but I wanted to try writing something simple using the 5-7-5 syllables pattern, and this was my first attempt!
somewhere along the sunsets i have lost my motivation. and the lines written on the palm of my hands have faded from holding unto warm coffee cups and false hopes. i never really liked the taste of coffee. but it's the only thing that reminds me of this tiny beating thing inside my chest. the horizon has seen too many sunsets. too many things that surrendered to star littered darkness. yet here i am, with a tiny flicker of hope. this would have to make do.
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sunset west moon flies east? ;]
air planes soar beyond the limits they roar in a longing stare they long disappearing through the clouds and gone arise arose arisen and in my place still frozen wizen they venture the winds purple skied time to blend and wing the moon menaces racing in line glistening afar from the back of a wounded scar archer to the future claiming a bleach where does it go? where does it reach? maybe Saturn not here but the return is there to the node of the belong flying up no fear seems my flight gonna wait for years the waxing gibbous flies and I hope for dreams in the close of eyes
I kept lying to my heart for so long, Entangling it with the messy threads of fascination; Pretending to be an artist I kept on Until there was no more of that magical thread; An incomplete pattern The conceiver of my shattered hopes and dream; But there's a beauty in it, An emptiness and a heartache; Maybe it is for the best; Because the beauty of horizon can be apprehend only from this far;
Do share your ideas about how can i make it better
Look beyond the borders of the walls that contain you for the world is vast, Push past the horizon that surrounds you because your heart is true, Let the raindrops dampen your existence as you begin your journey, You embody light and emit potential, Let your work be your legacy, May your diligence be gracefully saluted, For you are more than their minds can ever fathom.
The original dream Shared a vision of happiness, Harmonious circumstances Character witnesses to a life, That flowed unerringly Across a landscape Of perfection.
Then came the descendants; Other dreams, Where illusions were introduced And the landscape underwent Subtle changes, Twists and turns Seemingly random, chaotic eddies Fractal logic prevailing; The dream deviated Always pushing and swelling At the edge of Its ever-expanding territory.
Standing anywhere along that edge One can see a little more or less Of the horizon Than at any other position, Equilateral sight Into the possibilities Of the future, And looking back A seemingly random path, And though chaotic It clearly made sense, At each individual instant.
"You are a breath of fresh air." He said in a way that was unlike the way the others had put it. "You are new air and new earth and you are the words that have not yet been written.” “ You are the beginning and the ending of a story that could never again be told. You are as fresh as the rising sun and the winds that welcome it sweetly across the horizon.” And somehow I do not feel reborn when I am around you. It is like you are the reincarnation of some great ancient being, and I am trapped behind the illusion that I am unique. My memories trapped inside a forgotten rebirth. My words trapped behind pale yellow teeth, as if they are gravestones challenging me that if I did speak, it would be the death of me.
This dream poem was written in 2016. I don't remember the dream or anything in it! Glad I have this creepy poem instead! :)
Gateway of a black hole Time stops at an "event horizon" For distant watcher of the universe If you could reach an "event horizon" You would be dead for the world For you, you would be alive Time flow quite normal May be things happening As in "Interstellar" In reality a dream In dream a reality Time stops at an "event horizon" Dead and alive relative In general relativity
The horizon took a smoke break at sunset And 7 hours later she's still gone No doubt sleeping with the breeze I stand on the deck in the darkness Leaning forward My hands on the rail Gazing at the infinite mirror, reflecting The air is as still and cold as the water Just like the man next to me He sighs but no vapor forms He's cloaked in a blue shadow Like the bottom of the ocean A darker blue I've never seen But in a voice clear as ice he asks 'Do you love me?' I nod 'Not talking tonight?' I nod He rests his stygian blue fingers On the back of my moon-light hand And we kiss Enjoying each other Until the sun clocks in in the morning
2/1/21 The personification of the moon and the sea. Look up stygian blue it's very interesting and helps with the visual. ((This is also my 4th attempt at uploading this poem idk what's going on with the site but whatever))
How does your desire to heal foreign wounds translate into open skies of flaming reds and solemn blues ready to soak up all the rain that drizzles on the frontlines you’ve carved along the horizon of pain still unspoken for