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Saumya Aug 2018
If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.


if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending  miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!

And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
Girlamo Barbato Dec 2020
Receiveth that lady out of thy stony desolation
Her encephalon singeth melodies of starvation
Her heart is fill'd with pangs of a hungry void, butchering all sensation
Is hopeth and peace encased in the dark places?
‘r in the lighteth that aroint from her?
The lady knoweth the knowledge but yet to seeketh the problem
Hunt her with thy partisan of sorrow


How savage can life floweth?
All the lady hath left is this broken boat
Desire and tranquility the lady is sure to findeth
Cleansed and swepth away from her swinish mind
Tormented past creeps on her backeth, disappearing whenever the lady behold behind her
The lady can hark tis frighted voice reappearing in the back of her pate, taunting her as the lady soul of symphonies
The moon holds any actuality

Couldst the lady just lie f'r a moment life?
Canst catching but a wink beest h'r getaway?
The lady can’t escapeth her nightmare
But it’s the only escapeth from reality

Life is begging her to grant t one more hap
But the lady end'd up realizing tis real and not fantastical
Upon her is a falsified world that cost to exist
Birds liveth longer
Gudgeon breatheth m're
And ants art stout'r

O Lord giveth that lady thy breatheth of life
Some people crave to believeth the lacking valor instead of the valorous
O Lord maketh her alive
Giveth her a seel man’s eye
The lady wanteth to gape through the window and seeth a perfect welken
Tilt at a diff'rent angle
She sitteth, waiting until the Lord blows out her taper
Partisan puncturing a spirit of sorrow
Hope and peace

— The End —