That is what poets do

They romanticize pain
They idealize the torment

There is solace in darkness
Which they craft to enlighten;

Lure with words
The forlorn is adorned
Guilt is charming
Mistakes rewarding

That part that is revolting
The best line in their poems.

That is what poets do

They embellish heartbreak
To cement the heartache

But as soon as they leave their paper
and beautiful words captivated readers

Life can no longer render
The adequate metaphor
Agony is agony;

There is no substitute for it.

Frosted silver whisper
melt this shielded sore
enlighten my dormant soul
heal this stone once more
.
Reckless raw emotions
tasteless heat, empty mirrors
extinct frenzy, I dare,
dazzle me with your glare
.
Overwhelming moon
such a romantic delirium
alluring shooting stars I seek,
my voice to them wishes to speak.
.
The night lost the blues,
magic labyrinth lost the clues
royal keys were once stolen
enchanted tower got broken
.
Affectionate soul, my Amber Angel
the sharp flakes and memories
scattered they must be
through the silky roses once loved
close by our Enchanted Tree

© Christina Philipe

Bound by the worldly verity
I look up to you with woe
You comfort me at times
When friends have turned foe

My love affair with you
Isn't like the rest
Cos a night with you
Puts all else to test

Your love is pensive
Unpretentious and rich
Takes me to paradise
No questions, no hitch

And when I lose myself
You lure me again
To a dose too many
With that ignorance you feign.

I wake up in relic
In awe and in lust
I know not this world, but you
In alcohol I trust!!

'Twas the way she said,
...be sure to call me, don't forget...
then turned off her phone,
3 days net

I cast her a line
will she bite or let free?
readily lost from mind
the bait was me!

Oh mused from her loving
her plaything, her joy.
I spat out love poemz
Less haste did annoy

Lifted kindred spirit,
no more wobe-gone for me
was but a lie from a Strom
too blinded to sea

"You and I are going to have
a great love affair."
Should have been warning
Foundeld on note in sunlight morning

I asked the project wood
It for-told me, "Why Bother?"
Alone in my room, to ration or despair
Ignore nature's warning,
'tis up to me, I declare.

Sealed my fate...
I'm strong, been here before,
I'm ready for this...this...this time winning!
FOOL
Her's unslaved, mine unscathed
night,
was just the begining!

Oh the joys,
Such sweetness up to the edge,
but not quite *****
As promised her lore
THE everything abash
Irie romming back,
gonna get IT,
this time?
Maybe mohr

The musing doest stop,
genuine dost frey,
Lovings subside
Betrayl dost pay

"It will melt your mind"
Were the last words I herd
all in due time
her torture, my absurd

Communicate?  
Communicate she says?
Why were not those words
so heards
Whence whining and pining decays?

Hypocrispy so blatant
it must be ignored,
and the melt of the mind
gets restored

For it was up to me
All along on this journey
The most painful part
Is I always did see

This dance with the devil
The game of fairie,
My loves lorn lost
To the leanhaun shee

Only the sum of a room,
Just so much accumulated stuff.

Once, I began to fall in love
With a man.  But it was his room,
The sum of his things, which cemented it.

As it turns out, he could not maintain his worth,
His values were papier-mâché;

And the objects in his room told lies.

A long time ago
a wise man once said
never show all your cards.
Dear boy use your head.

If I can give you a tip
it's keep your audience guessing.
Don't let out all of your secrets
with the words your processing.

You may find it rewarding
when your stories arise
to put a twist in the tale
and create a surprise.

When they really expect
what they think happens next
take the pathway elsewhere
with a change to the text.

And when they wonder “What now”?
When they're feeling unsure,
like an Old Fisherman
you can cast out that lure.

Surely then they shall bite,
safely caught on your hook
and you can keep them all dangling
till they finish your book.

A gilded cage may look inviting
It still imprisons freedom*





© Amitav (Radiance)

Mr.Strickland reminds me of you.
If I were Blanche, I would do what she did too.
Like a sophisticated beast
Howling in the territory of yours
So primitive and so civilized.
In a cocoon weaved of solitude
Poor Blanche throws herself in the abyss
Swoon over your charm,
But you are lured by the Moon.