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what have you been through they ask
after read my poem

because the words able to
opened up their wounds
just like the first time

and they're wonder
if I have been through the same thing too.
we shares same pain
A mellow breeze in a wishful sun
   fills waterfall flowers with honeybees
   where ageing grass, still young at heart,
   sways to music this autumn dreams.
      
      Sweet as honey and missed in seasons,
      the summer waves goodbye in peace.
         And what for fruitful hands today?
         Clammy, they’d be, away with spades.

A shallow river in the twilight sun
   brings hope to budding flowers of may
   where swathes of land, still rife with hope,
   sing in raindrops this autumn plays.
      
      Sour as lemon, yet yearned with reason;
      last winters madness is still yet to atone.
         And what for hopeful minds today?
         Busy, they’d be, in morrows ways.

Those swollen blue hands in the evening sun
   sees waterfall flowers with trees afar
   where times attritions, still young in regret,
   take no measure of our autumns jar!
Blargh, (repulsed)
Blue moon, blue moon? (playful calling)
Where are you?
Where have you been?(tender)

Blue moon, blue moon? (loneliness setting in as you gaze out awaiting the train that never arrives)
What have you seen?

Blue moon, blue moon? (heavy hearted)
I've had a dream, (sigh) I've had a dream. (side gaze with a sigh)
A slot of open and a bash of delight. (guileless)

(Sigh)
Oh, blue moon, blue moon? (glum)
Where are you tonight?

I need to leave this area! (fiery rage)
I want to leave this area? (curious)
yes?! (erratic)
To leave this area? (humble bewilderment)
To leave behind the crazed and the immature, the delinquants and the tyranny (assertive)

Such dispair lies within their minds, lost like the foggy winters depth. (anguish)

To wonder, if there will ever be a smile lay upon their ashened faces. (heartened)

The once rosy and pleasant of all chosen places. (sweet blossom enriched with the crisp warmth of mulled wine)

They went and they came, but never accepted, so left behind they became dilapidated. (nonchalant)

Taken by their own obsessions! (dejected)

Like the creaks of the night, they became the howls of the moon. (like cool chills upon the face, the bitter kiss of Jack frost scratching at your door(dead as the night, even the beat of your heart echoes))

Oh, blue moon, Blue moon!? (weep)
Where are you? (nonchalent)

A ponder here sat patiently waiting. (self pity)
Blue moon, Blue moon? (inquisitive)
Why have you left me? (sorrow)
We've been here soo long, so patiently waiting. (tearful)
So far no good, the cries not answered, will there ever be a moment of joy or will they ever be belated. (faded like the mist of the seas, leaving the bitter taste of salt upon the lips)
Mind bending
dabble Sep 29
wonder
how I freeze in your hotness
and melt in your cold hands
Shofi Ahmed Sep 25
Eye on the sun  
up from the blue hill
descending down
waits for none.

Something is better
Not seen in the light?
The sun is on the run.

Maybe it's in the night
I wonder though does
the Moon see what's inside?
Because the black box
the night is yet wrapped
with countless stars!
Erian Sep 24
You let me fall when I trusted you
Not that I can’t blame you
You knew too well how I felt
By crushing my heart while I was asking for help
You notice me, I know
Turning your head every now and again
Don’t you ever wonder what goes on in my head?
Or do you just want to look at a person,
Crumbled in your reach?

I get it...
You mean well
Shining in the spotlight
While I’m sunken below
Drunk on a useless thought
That’ll you’ll be the light at the end of the tunnel.
Bad Vibes Sep 18
Wanderlust is such a romanticized term. It has such a beautiful air of brilliance. A word associated with travel and experiencing the best of life. What they don't tell you is the heavy side. The side where you can travel the whole world and still feel nothing. The part that feels aimless and empty. The dizzying feeling of dread that nothing will ever be good enough. If I can't find joy eating cacio e pepe in the heart of Rome, or exploring castles in Scotland, will I ever find joy? It makes you wonder why we wander when nothing seems to fill that hollowness in your heart. Not people, places, food, or things - nothing. Not only am I wandering the world but my soul also wanders for a place to rest, a place to call home. Nothing seems to fit. Nothing seems to feel right. Why am I cursed to wander when to most it is a blessing?



-t.s.
he told me i was his endless wonder
since when did endless become transient
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