Lost lost , everything is lost
The Only thing remaining is, frost
The memories which strike the eye,
Will soon die!
Bye bye lost love , bye bye

All those days together,
All the love letters,
Never hope anything better.
But now , why everything is scattered
Hey,, what's the matter?

All the broken line
All the bad designs
But that was the only lifeline
Okay ..., that's fine
But oh..... lost love will you define !!
Was it because the time was offline?

Why everything is changed now?
Is it because it's the time ,  online.
But ......
She should be his life now
Because she has turned to his wife now

But ,now...
No love ,no pray
The only thing is betray!!
Why lost love ,why please say?

Why the things has changed now?

Why only thing is their quarrel?
Why Both of them think , they have the better moral !!

Can you answer me , lost love why?

for instance, I felt the yearn to feel love
an arm surrounds an unclear path of blue,
rejuvenating it is; I’m above,
yet unanswered questions linger; seek clue,
art thou afraid to love like juliet?
hands unclasped; bent knees and silent prayers.

Eli S.                                  10/3/17
To: Eli S.

NO SUBJECT

Are you here yet?

Sincerely, Eli S.

Triangle praise
clappy happy shapes.
Tall librarian,  robes slipping underneath his own worth.
pennies to donate, salaried sanctity.
Precious metal prayer.
hatred of man, verse cursed, line lynched.
And thus begins todays mass sin.
turn to page three hundred and hatred forth.

Is this a love poem?
It sure seems that way.
Empty and broken
lacking in sense
starting with a question
and then

Is the world falling apart
Or are we simply losing hope

I wish plants could speak
They’d tell me of  horrid things they’d seen
Above them and next to them
Left and right
They’d speak of the rain that came after drought
And the joy they would have at that
They’d tell me about the loss when a flower got picked
and the fuss of it if anyone cared enough to get it fixed
for a new plant in its place
a new life replacing the old
a decade of silver instead of gold
With new existential questions (some are very bold)
would the sky get angry then and start raining coal?
for how dare a simple plant question the mighty clouds?
and have a voice to speak and make sounds?
while it is inferior, sickle, stuck in the same old grounds,
as it’s quiet predecessors

I wish plants could speak
they’d be full of wisdom I’d reckon
They’d be melancholy
they’d seldom speak
and sometimes,
Of hope a beacon

you’d think they might know the most of this earth
as their roots are intertwined with it
I’d say It unravels it’s secrets to them
For it knows for sure
That plants never speak.