#sentimentality
Once upon a time
I loved you more than life-
And what if I still do?
Why do the years become
An unnoticed collection
Of sentimental debris?
You are gone
But it doesn’t seem to matter
Never to me
I can still see you
In the ambient light
Of the moonlit city
Wading for me
In a silent tide
I loved you more than life
What if I still do?
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 4:09 AM UTC
In the almirah corner, it lay,
Day after day, untouched, unseen grey.
Dun and dusted, its shimmer gone,
Once proud, now forlorn.
It first adorned a joyous frame,
The groom's pride, a life to claim.
A new suit for a bride so fair,
Their union sealed, a love to wear.
From meetings to galas, it bore the strain,
Day in and out, through sunshine and rain.
Before mirrors, it struck a pose,
Before cameras, it proudly rose.
Time marched on, as time will do,
The suit's threads faded, its purpose too.
The owner retired, and with a sigh,
The suit found its place where old things lie.
Beside medicines and x-ray scans,
It watched the world through aging hands.
But love rekindled a gentle spark,
The suit was worn, its journey embarked.
No goals to chase, no grand parade,
Just a quiet walk in the evening shade.
With a smile that spoke of days well-spent,
The suit revived in an instant of love.
For the owner well knew, as wisdom grew,
The suit was something more than just threads and dye.
It held the story, the love, the pride,
A lifelong friend with him through the times that glide.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 10:21 AM UTC
What happened to the little boy
that I once knew so well?
He’d greet each new day with unfettered joy
and wave the last one farewell.
When oaks and maples began to turn
and the leaves had started to fall
the boy happily switched the TV on and yearned
for the return of his game of football.
Somewhere along this growing boy’s way
he became a great deal like me:
I wake and walk to the mirror today
to see where that boy used to be.
Now I cling to every last leaf
that falls from the branches up high
while stretching the days that are now too brief
as the winter comes rapidly nigh.
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC
Most curious
duality ... this
Sentimentality
Excessive tenderness,
sadness, nostalgia
corrupting modality,
distorting reality's
social edifice
Brain-cramping
contortion,
fierce pressure
building,
Sentimentality
wielding an
assault on
humanity!
Liars lie with
impunity
Childhood
lessons lost
Darkness
perverting civility
Root of irrational passions,
misplaced idealism—
This insidious,
ever-swelling
tsunami of
Sentimentality
Mark Toney © 2022
Jun 3, 2022
Jun 3, 2022 at 11:24 PM UTC
These memories of mine,
These senses through time;
Whisper of a never-ending summer,
And never-changing souls.
As if hidden behind ones own reflection,
Never to be reached again.
For, the only place this exiled world is permitted,
Is amidst the realms of dreams and limbo.
And solely a gaze beyond oneself,
May reveal the leap between realities.
So, here I stand on the edge of beginnings,
Ready to join the eternal summer;
Misled by the luring benevolence of timelessness,
In need of guidance back to the truth.
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
I have a pit in my stomach that feels like a fist
Just squeezing tighter and tighter
Tomorrow everything could change
Even if it stays the same it’s only for a matter of time
I’ve been waiting years for this moment and I know I should be excited but I feel like I’m letting a lot go
I’m going to miss the conversations during the car rides
I know you hate picking me up and dropping me off
I loved the time spent together
I will gain the world tomorrow but to me it will be at the loss of a treasure
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
After a while you’ll stop caring about him, but then you’ll find yourself wondering if he still has the mug you made for him in pottery class and if every time he sees it he remembers the smile you wore from ear to ear as he took it out of its newspaper wrapping because that smile meant a hell of a lot more than a mug ever could but neither was enough to make him stay.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
A ****** thing
When put there in the lamplight
But chosen with the utmost care
Pretend it’s just kitsch
And not some ******* you’d throw away had someone else gifted it.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC