Regret at leisure reclines upon your left shoulder
Gloom unforgiving sits upon your right
Emotions of long repressed deeds torment you
Growing in magnitude and ever bolder

Vacant is the once brilliant soul
That was the road for gain voluntarily chosen
Ah pitiful heart bloodless and morose
Once beating with love and life now infinitely frozen

Indeed it becomes you
When glittering tomorrows eagerly metamorphose in yesterdays
Anger consumes the effort to unburden ones self of taunting ghosts
No words from this world will describe to deaf ears the confusion and pain
That was the twisting road chosen for gain
When Regret at leisure sits upon your left hand
Gloom hushed and brooding
Convenes with melancholy upon your right
And murmuring shadows provoke madness in the mind.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby July 27, 2017.

  May 1 Tammy M Darby

The templars took the cross
and made it a religion rose
a psychological overseen dome
of acquiesce and admiration

What if there weren't any slaves?
only mercenaries who craved
for power and a subservience rave
across the vast seas and distances

We trace the Omlec race in Americans
way before Colombus leaped his strides
as they left scented archeological remnants
of basalt and granite sculptured rights

The templars took the cross
and created glorified corded bonds
aesthetically covered with an overseer
of utter deceit and embellished conmanship

  Apr 13 Tammy M Darby

Moments lost,
Adrift in the sands of time
Regret stains the soul
As unlived dreams linger
Life erodes,
Memories fade to sepia
Worn and disillusioned
The spark of life wanes
She struggles
To reignite
Her lust for life

Kelly Rose
© April 12, 2017

Sweet evening dove
Are you in touch with your mortality ,
are you at peace with deaths totality , do you
harbor ill will toward the western sun falling down ,
do you understand sadness as you sing so blue and profound   Your a lovely , lonesome lady on a bell tower in a sleepy town
You bring a smile with shared pain as you make your evening rounds , a reflective lullaby blocking every twilight sound ...

Copyright April 12 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

When the sweet winds blow
A silent ophidian
Slumbers with in the lifeless soul
The words of hate worn proudly by the sender
And the act of revenge
From the serpents bite render

And the bough will break
Under the weight of a brittle heart
The perfume of stale bitterness
Do the drifting breezes impart
For there is no logic to be found
In the deep caverns of the heart

So the bough will break
The branch weakened fell broken and decayed
And the burden of love over my eyes did lay
Happiness shrouded by despair now forever stay
Though its said the light commands all
And darkness shun the day

The bough will break.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby April 5, 2017

  Mar 29 Tammy M Darby
Kagey Sage

What is it that stops us from questioning
the scaffolding of our reality?
Why aren't more of us solipsists?
Shouldn't we all be like those
delusional violent ones?

They see no reason
to think the world exists
outside their heads
Therefore their thoughts influence
their reality more and more

All of our thoughts
influence the reality
We sense to a varying degree
unique to each of us

But do we really all, for the most part
believe some ho-hum passivity?
Oh, what pressures magnetize our brains

This distance between us occupied
minutes and hours multiplied
by walking and running thoughts,
divining the cost of careless loss
roving and darting with such might
not even a rest in dreams of night.
Then a trouble or something tragic
pauses me, and a moment of magic
makes all that distance naught.
I fly to you my love in thought
bound again by strings unclear
I yearn and ache to have you near.
     But again the world cries out to me
     and again I am gone - in its roiling sea.

Inspired by Shakespeare's Sonnet # 44.  Although I am not an expert at writing sonnets, they are a delightful challenge for me.  Shakespeare's sonnets have at times brought me to tears - his love affair with the language is palpable.
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