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Beth Bayliss Jul 2020
'love lasts forever'
yeah, she probably meant it
at the time
For, Silence she chose, to let time reveal the truth,
Clandestine promises she kept, not to get misconstrued,
When fear in believing people, strangled her to death,
For, silence she chose, to let time reveal the truth,
Blind love and compassion she had bestowed with strewth,
On the one, who gave back false hopes with betrayal, all to feud,
For, Silence she chose, to let time reveal the truth,
Clandestine promises she kept, not to get misconstrued.
The triolet is perfect for this kind of repetition, because the first line of the poem is used 3 times and the second line is used twice. If you do the math on this 8-line poem, you'll realize there are only 3 other lines to write: 2 of those lines rhyme with the first line, the other rhymes with the second line.
M Solav Jul 2020
If I told you to visit this moment
To look around just an instant,
Would you refuse, would you consent?
Would you see what no-else can?

If you did, how could you share?
In penumbra, light up the flair?
What if you did, what if you dared?
What if you did yet no-one cared?

Everything sees through its essence,
Anything else it may comprehend.
Here lies the Fog, a forest so dense,
Spreading across, throughout the land.

Right up in front, close to your faces,
Written in crust are a thousands promises.
And along its growth at increasing pace,
At each of your blinks a few words erase.

Now you look back, but now it's too late.
Now's what you'd purchase at any given rate.
When there's no time and where there's no fate
Nothing no longer ever has to wait.

Plunged in darkness, see that you're blind;
Even there lurks something that shines.
Here is the Way, that path you must find,
Hidden within and without any sign.

When life stretches much too far to see,
To look way further is never to be free.
When gazing below, deep down the dark sea,
Know that beyond always floats this clarity.

So here I've been asking, but I'll ask one more time:
Having been through, is there two of a kind?
When raised in this manner, no question's ever clear;
Thus poems and rhymes are allowed to end here.
Written in July 2015. Old stuff from after (or before) a buddhist retreat.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
M Solav Jul 2020
Oh how I hate art!
So much noise
And false pretenses,
Such undeserved poise
For those vain promises.

Sure, in everything there’s a message,
Yes, anything you want to acknowledge.

How I hate art!
For it is far too fragile
To dare play so smart
How I hate art!

Oh how I hate art!
Whether I’m missing the point
Or whether there was none;
Whether it isn't what it ain’t
Or whether it’s just for fun.

How I hate art!
For it cannot do otherwise
Than state the obvious
And pretend to be wise.

Sure, you’ve convinced more than a few;
Yes, they’ve all grasped your great value.

How I hate art!
The cliche, the glamour
The whole thing and the part,
Oh how I hate art!
Written in December 2019.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Did I forget?
Did I let go?
Wasnt I there when you needed me most?
All those promises
Each and every one
I followed my heart and didn't run
Did you forget?
Did you let go?
You weren't there when I needed you most
All those promises
Each and every one
You followed what?
I saw you run
Luna Wrenn Jul 2020
I’m tired of waiting for tomorrow.
Will tomorrow be a better day?
Who’s to say tomorrow won’t be as dark
as yesterday.
clementine Jul 2020
why do people make promises that they couldn't keep?
why?
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