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Talk not of people how very sane;
They tear and burn, they droop inflame
Figure not how soon, they drift away
They were not yours, they go astray
How fine the fickle minded brain !
It tickles, turns and rocks and rains
Inferring merely in whims and charms
Reckoning unknowing at a single disarm
Misfired flames that bring to ruins
The gentle laughter into heckled fumes
Fuming rage that never could ****
Yet, had enough to sincerely reveal
Displaced prejudice or hurtful losses
Not the flower, that I knew apostle
Sincere my wishes, apologies true
I beg, conclude and give in to you
I feel too much. I apologise all too quickly.
I long to stand a moment more, to
Bask in spring time summer’s cove
For I am cold~ the skin turns pale
Such chills I feel, it grows in scale

Till evening come to rescue mine
Light off me beam, I burn to shine
Been dark enough, it does not die
Been drear enough, time to defy |

This paper boat you sail in hopes
Let currents take it up the *****
Why give it strength, let it just fly
How far can will (lone) carry thy?

Rest, O Passenger_ you shall not reign
Morning is nigh, this midnight wanes
And light so peers, but of what use?
This moonless night, you don’t refuse !

Take heart then in thus standing out~
There have been more, be on lookout
Find path where there have been none
Pathfinder, seeker ~ you just begun !
A poem on hope. Especially when there’s none.
Zhavaed Haemaed Dec 2020
A loud mind
pierces all the calm
of the silent 4am

The angel of sleep
is on a sabbatical day
Zhavaed Haemaed Nov 2020
Where is my old childhood lost
A paradise it was in those fields
I long now for a untimed halt,
A way back to those reveries.

The Sun barely lightens up the soul,
It is, within me   . .. winter freeze.
A sabrelight of foregone days strike,
A forlorn descent into insanity.

Optimism comes at a price, of course,
There is but not much to usurp.
Thus I sit in despair and toil _
Away to faraway runaway scenes.
Foreboding, apprehensive are the skies,
My thoughts, my muses .. only company.
Hiraeth is a Welsh word for homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was. A deep and irrational bond felt with a time, era, place or person
Zhavaed Haemaed Nov 2020
My piano keys were meant to
click notes of an ethereal realm

Now, alas ..
They just tip tap on the laptop keyboard
at the whims of a nonsensical existence ..

Sigh !
Anyone having to work hours on the laptop would relate.
Zhavaed Haemaed Nov 2020
I look at you .. your countenance and demeneour .. how one eyes follows the other and curls of your hair address this courtship unknowingly .. and at a gaze when all at once, my eyes brush off your glance, . hiding in plain sight, what our gentle nudges couldn't hide ..

You do not say .. in fear and worry for what might, I do not ask .. illusions of my habits overcomes.. and yet, we nurture that infinitesimally small fire .. hoping meekly in our hearts .. that something or some force would cater to our reconciliation .. but it never does.
A courting by the falling snow.
Zhavaed Haemaed Nov 2020
There is a mist that seems flowing
Upon that which was once clear,
A fog of emotions glooming over
And a wretched, untethered fear.

A life lived but limitless, yet in
Pensive misgivings doomed.
And a life lived all too fully yet
In anxious unease consumed.

Is one single moment of Eureka
Be best a man could conquest?
Or a lord, or a lover.. say, together
Could one lifetime ever manifest ?

There are doubts in those living
A manual, never was .. on Life
Serendipitous journey, is it not then?
What an adventure, 'tis to be alive !
What is life but a series of events unfolding in front of your eyes. Cherish the visuals till they last.
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