#arthut - Hello Poetry

Tell it to the mountains tell it out loud that the world might hear Wax up the steep and rugged hills, journey the valleys and fountains tell them! oh tell them now that they are near ‘that there lived the casted stones Let the world hear of their silent voices ‘though may come as echoes Yet, in peasantry they live and make such loud noises The worthless pearls have found their worth they sought for noesis and were answered without delay Tell it out loud for the son and daughters of lay men are now of great names Tell their success story Tell them it’s not all irony. ©Emmiasky Ojex

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Jan 30, 2019

Jan 30, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC

Emmiaskyojex

TELL IT TO THE MOUNTAINS

Tell it to the mountains tell it out loud that the world might hear Wax up the steep and rugged hills, journey the valleys and fountains tell them! oh tell them now that they are near ‘that there lived the casted stones Let the world hear of their silent voices ‘though may come as echoes Yet, in peasantry they live and make such loud noises The worthless pearls have found their worth they sought for noesis and were answered without delay Tell it out loud for the son and daughters of lay men are now of great names Tell their success story Tell them it’s not all irony. ©Emmiasky Ojex

15

What if I said I love you? Would your heart skips its stepping stones and you fall into a bottomless hole? What if I told you each time, I see your buoyed up face as early as 1 a.m at morn in my lovely dreams My soul, spirit and body yearns to be always around you and casts a spell against its master ne’er to leave that scene What if I told you that before I sleep off at dusk, I’d pick up my mobile device just to take one more glance at the dazzling angel my wallpaper harbors What if?, you got to know that the ‘ten tails of love’ were all for you What if, all these and more you knew? Would you light up my world with the sun in your smile, tell me ‘I love you too’ and ‘You’re mine’ or would it seem to you, another love confession one of the many love words you’ve been hearing long before you were eight(a)-teen Would you leave me shocked by the regretful poem I wrote to woo you? I’m afraid of being broken by another kind and thus, will never tell you! ©Emmiasky Ojex

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Mar 13, 2019

Mar 13, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC

Emmiaskyojex

WHAT IF I SAID I LOVE YOU?

What if I said I love you? Would your heart skips its stepping stones and you fall into a bottomless hole? What if I told you each time, I see your buoyed up face as early as 1 a.m at morn in my lovely dreams My soul, spirit and body yearns to be always around you and casts a spell against its master ne’er to leave that scene What if I told you that before I sleep off at dusk, I’d pick up my mobile device just to take one more glance at the dazzling angel my wallpaper harbors What if?, you got to know that the ‘ten tails of love’ were all for you What if, all these and more you knew? Would you light up my world with the sun in your smile, tell me ‘I love you too’ and ‘You’re mine’ or would it seem to you, another love confession one of the many love words you’ve been hearing long before you were eight(a)-teen Would you leave me shocked by the regretful poem I wrote to woo you? I’m afraid of being broken by another kind and thus, will never tell you! ©Emmiasky Ojex

15

it’s not that the eyes can’t see at times it’s just the brain that can’t read – the pain, dip as cells in our body; smeared on smiles it’s just that our brains can’t read beautiful things have scars too that you are yet to see them don't mean they have not beautiful people feel pain too – it’s just so well-hidden that eyes always hit a blindspot and after it’s happened to another Dante we all gather to cry, mourn on crumbled mountains But of what good is cry to a soul that aches no more? of what use is remorse to a heart that beats no more?

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Apr 23, 2020

Apr 23, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC

Emmiaskyojex

Of What Use Is Cry! (Definitely Not a Requiem)

it’s not that the eyes can’t see at times it’s just the brain that can’t read – the pain, dip as cells in our body; smeared on smiles it’s just that our brains can’t read beautiful things have scars too that you are yet to see them don't mean they have not beautiful people feel pain too – it’s just so well-hidden that eyes always hit a blindspot and after it’s happened to another Dante we all gather to cry, mourn on crumbled mountains But of what good is cry to a soul that aches no more? of what use is remorse to a heart that beats no more?

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