#wistfulness
the frost of thunder,
the wretchedness of crimson-hued snow;
ought to persevere against the barred lands of acquiescence
bent under the wrath of blooming springs long ago.
the air fosters a hint of resilience,
on days the final train departs.
leaves bloom with splintering warmth,
flames engulfing the remains of whatever has been dusted off and broken apart.
there once was a night, where hamartia ceased to win
as it forsakeS the vision of shattering skies amongst foolish reckonings long ago been.
the blurriness of enigma shall, at some point, flourish to life once more;
when mighty worries and shallow dreams
rise to the hindering zenith of waters threaded from chaotic mist below.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 12:37 PM UTC
In the house by the lake
sat a man of few means.
He dwelled on his mistakes
that had left his life lean.
In that house in a place
by rippled waters’ edge
he saw just the faces
in the photos on the ledge.
Outside rang the birdsong
and the sun sent her rays;
the trees stood there strong
and the clouds went their ways.
But in that tiny home
a man just sat to dwell
to brood on being alone
and missed out nature’s spell.
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 5:17 PM 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
I feel her love
But it is painful
In every gift I got from her
Something seems to be lost forever
I hope that it can still be found
In distance, melancholia
Fills up each moment of forgiveness
In self blame, doubt, I drown
Each feeling so that I -
Don't feel the pain and cry.
I try to see the positive
But guilt is underneath of it
What have I done?
What have I lost?
I am confused
And barely let her close.
I try. But there's a wall of what? between us,
Like a kaleidoscope, a picture hard to grasp.
It could be fears and anger,
But shame won't let me see beyond them, I confess.
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 1:40 PM UTC
_Vellichor (n.): the strange wistfulness of used bookstores._
Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
You should sleep! Capture back in the captivity of soft, embracing lapels, in budding caresses, and leave them free and rich to be comforted by my sweetheart in the time of caring, maternal hand - reversing delights! Because anyone can say anything! You can chant and crack symbolic and preaching words deep in your heart
there is still a treasure you can’t forget a proud, prodigal will! In a dream, the ship glides with honey, if you love to embrace I have chosen! When my eyes fall asleep, I think of the forgotten, happy accomplishments: In sincere beats, we nudged each other the immortality that connects our hearts!
The good words were left behind, and the caress that filled the Universe as well: In the clenched hands, the sweat of grace collided and tensed! And if my baby-busting sweetheart were here, I would also comfort the footprint of his feet with kisses; chatter-stumbling unfortunate silly, experimental everything! - We are wrong and we are responsible, at the same time!
I’m in it: I didn’t really reveal my hidden self-incognito. and my sweetheart, with Cassandra's eyes, had long sworn on someone else's side without even asking his heart: How are you in storms of emotion? He quickly forgot about his emotions! - We knew the word, the act of the southern company, and we did not deal with it, the ancestral chain of consequences: We became addicted to mutual good deeds, complimenting flirtation - but there will be plenty of time when our sin and the burden of our goodness are put in a pan,
and our size to judge! Perfect, captivating attraction, it feels Order may have been achieved anyway, and yet we had a sieve of offering opportunities to fail!
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
I like the way I hate the Boston metro subway train.
It's actually called The T, I think short for train, but
I know it doesn't matter much to me anyway. I like the way that
subway train sounds: The Screech, The Dust, The
"HEY! Do not touch my **** The question:
"How could they possibly have put another advertisement up there?"
There's a person at the counter saying "ma'am, your ticket didn't go through" and there is a baby crying
and someone else who's rich and
probably, they're whining.
There's a person reading something and I crane my head to look
and I'm disappointed it's just another stupid John Grisham book. It's all the same:
the way I like to hate the Boston metro subway train.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 1:49 PM UTC
I sit before my window silent,
arms at rest upon the sill; I
sit and dream of silent things,
as the rain falls slanted upon
the gabled roof; winds sighing:
and watch the falling rain
appear, and silver streak the
window-pane. I sit and dream,
the world forgotten, and even
so do my dreamings change;
no more of sad forgotten silence,
color blooms behind my eyes,
and fills my mind with rainbow
light, shining, as the glow behind
the key-hole, as the blushing
dawn fresh washed in rain.
Thunder roars beyond
the pane, and lightning cracks
the sky in twain, but out of
revery, out of dream, I do
not wake for the crashing
din. Rather, then, in sudden
sequence, in a seconds flash
of swift cessation, no more of
color do I dream, no more
on rainbow laughing light,
but in the midst of a storm of
thunder, of lightning, and the
lashing rain, high above the
foundered land, I find myself:
and amidst all that raging
torrent, between the thunder,
and the wrath of Gods most
holy lightning, a single drop of
silver shining, strikes the
point between my eyes,
wherein the third sleeping
oculus of dream doth
dwell; and I wake. A leak
in the roof.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
skinny dipping on sopping silk
a cold pooling of lunar refraction
steeps our summer drowsing
ghostly fish, lustrous slivers,
skip across tumid fleshy belly
where I kiss that soft arousing
lip traced phantom trails
follow silver shimmering wandering avenue
to a mellifluent mossy dowsing
-
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
I am dreaming, I know.
Land unknown spread out
before me, air charged, expectant
of the coming storm,
cool wind sighing past, and setting
the leaves all to rustling. Sunset, glorious
in days dying.
I am dreaming, I know.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
I thought all of life existed in a smoky room
Confident men raising spotless claret glasses
Matches firing their dreams and memories
Until the last cigar reminds how time passes
And now where life has taken us
Is the refuge of sidewalks groaning under the masses
We long for those days of fearless bravado
While we wonder if meaning is buried under the ashes
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
*They are all drunk, light footed, swank
spunky babes and daring guys once in campus
now yellowing leaves in slanting evening light
their dress, manners and assured pace suggest
"There is no need for any hurry in our lives any more"
all those songs deeply buried quickly surface
after all these years of total separation, can you believe?
They started from where they left, many decades back
memories poured out, collected in pools, happy faces
reflected on that clear surface like before,
and words regained their cadence of those days of yore
meanings deeply buried under the dead leaves of
fallen years surfaced, tickled, they giggled and shared secrets
once more as if still in teens they are
The last thing one remembers,
before slipping in to stupor is Happiness
a parakeet with colorful wings floating on the air,
lovingly calling each one's pet name in campus then,
magic that went missing from lives, all these years
was brought back by memories, they find what that means
there it was thick in the night air, past , chocking every throat,
a simulacrum of past, white clad ghost embraced them tight.*
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
I want the excuse of insanity, oh please.
Broken record, trinket signpost, golden birdcage.
Fey glare into a reflection, power precaused intrinsic to your soul when expressed.
Give me everything I ever wanted without excuse. I'll kiss yours with my own deliverance, by
my salvation you'll be salved.
Don't let them take you away sad puppy girl, you're all I've ever got left.
I hear the faint sound of a soft melody dim, pounding through the halls like a Clam of Military Din.
Don't hear these faulty beams, I'll be good if you stay around. I'll suffer with grace if you don't, just
keep that affection that causes you to smile so wide at my company sometimes.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC