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Mark Oct 6

My love would frown, if could, about this stone;
For grey had never pleased her fashioned eye
And Times Old Roman carved for older throne-
Not beauty, youth, no mason knew could die.
Would they, as I, denounce that fair be bones?
Thereby no empty tomb would need a cross,
Engravings spared from eyes of teary loans:
That borrows from a grave's imprint of loss.
But plainly here invokes her name in etch:
Confronting on my dreams that have her live-
As vividly as breath, her beauty's sketch,
Yet sight to stone cannot in death unlive.

Upon then mason grave this line 'neath hers:
'If here resides, then here too mine refers'


But when I part her grave, part follows me;
Unseen but seen behind my weary lids;
At best when closed does darkness gift her be
Into the light methought that death forbids.
Yet do I mourn with force to self deceive?
Defying state that time shall be my own,
Lest have me too immortal death receive
And dwell between where mind and spirit roam?
No! Gone my love to where all beauty flies!
Where havens still her grace as when had left,
I bound her not to ducts where beauty cries
Tho' I despair by depths at mine bereft.

Goodbye my dear, may essence seize the skies!
But be nearby, when near your body lies.


That I converse with you on matters new;
That matters old do not befall on you,
Could you forgive if by the winds so blew
A leaf upon my love that grows anew?
Know that they grow to not conceal your mound
Nor dig you deeper than by sorrow dug;
Think no mistake that 'neath my heart's not bound;
But love's bereft have none a better drug.
Yet if by sign out from your spirit's world;
By sparrows, storms, or ominous displayed:
Have by the skies 'alone' the word you hurled
Then shall it be that love is ours replayed.

Should graciousness so follow where you are
Then you would know you're not replaced, by far.
Sunset a wonderful scene to unfold,
A sonnet given for it to be told,
The beauty that lavishes upon skies,
Hues and colors liveth as a surprise.

Mysteries, hidden, as it's life suffice,
Wonders and oddity might seem to rise,
Imagination does not limit nights,
But creates memories that will not fly.

As if a sonnet was meant to carry,
A message's prelude in a hurry,
Riddled with thoughts and terminologies,
Hidden, and cannot be seen by many.

Someday that sunset can set my soul free,
As it continues life's never ending journey.
a collection of thoughts in the middle of the sunset's midst.
Jemima Mitra Sep 26
Amber flames lick moonlight off your forehead
Upon your beating chest I lay my bed
Your fire warms the jade stones trapped in your eyes
You swallow dark grey skies with your sunrise

And sometimes you will unleash your turquoise
In small dripping jewels I will lick the noise
To dry your face and speak against the storm.
Soon enough you return to feeling warm.

Red dwarf darling, you will blister my heart
Constellations on your back from the start
Have seduced and held hostage my fingers

This love that we share is one that lingers
A supernova shining for a while
Erupting through with your crooked teeth smile.
Lynn Briar Sep 24
By your hands, goddess, worlds unfold
Titanic scale whilst I’m a grain
You built up castles made of gold
For those who taught you how to tame

I would have never thought the same
Why say this world is small for us?
It is no one but you to blame
It is a lie to live by thus

Who will now hold this awry mass?
There is no time for this no more
Just promise when you’ll stop to pass -
Leave me a letter neath the door

And hide between the lines an aught
That won’t let blinded psyche rot
Lynn Briar Sep 24
When heavy mists decided to retreat
And undertows turned down their graze
The hoary ocean accepted his defeat
And distant shore ahead arose ablaze

How many nights have seen the face
Of loud joys and silent wonders
Coimbra! What a lovely place
Your songs kept captive spanless numbers

And even more fell in a slumber
Under her lulling velvet tunes
Her poems spurt with blood of umber
But then it’s you who’s left with wounds

Side note: consider it a crime
To put blanc feelings in a rhyme
Arthur Blank Sep 21
Silver moon how you look tonight so blue,
Waning wistfully over winters ashes,
Reflecting that wan shade that is your hue.

Whispers of wind shake the barren branches,
A sordid symphony that sings so clear,
Your soft gentle voice, while above passes,

The restless clouds that shape to me the years;
Memories drifting by my moonlit room.
I loved once watching the falling snow here,

All is grey and I’ll be leaving here soon,
To forget your words, the world and this place,
Turn around down a new path and never look back.

Will it be vain? Even if I do pace,
The moon will cast always to me your face.
A sonnet.
Ackerrman Sep 18
Blood-rich, vibrant, swirling petals dance, swing
Around breezes, tremble petulantly,
Feeling power course: green heartfelt stems sing,
Wearing thorn-mail, blazon, nonchalantly.
Cruel thoughts drift timidly toward the wood,
Shady under-shadows conceal pollen,
Ash bees sing the Roses’ song- Ruby food
Feeding volcanic hearts, single chronons
Bounce between young cupid’s glass heart garden,
Dream half coloured mirage: Wood-Nirvana.
Water drips and sputters, flower haven
Calls from woodlands as Father to Maiden,
Calling gently to sail, meander home.
Rest safe in the halls of horticulture.
Eat my heart out
Northern Poet Sep 17
When I looked
Into your eyes
I saw the truth
Behind your lies
And I won't play
All your games
'Cause you think
We're all the same

How could you be this heartless?
How could you be
This heartless?

Have come to pass
And this
Was never meant to last
Thrown away
Into the sea
Is this the death
Of you and me?

How could you be this heartless?
How could you be
This heartless?
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