"colde" poems
I am sometimes angry,
sometimes sad
and at worst,
even afraid.
when I see everyone’s perfect lives,
ignoring their lies,
and their webs and
bewitching melodies,
gorgeous figures
and golden possessions.
I am not damaged by them,
or by their honey,
but by the idea
that I will never be enough,
not for me,
or my family,
or the society.
I am afraid that one time
she will finally catch me
with those long and sharp claws,
screaming, mocking voice
and slender but greedy figure.
but most of all
I’m afraid by her call
and her lies
and Jealousy’s mesmerizing
emerald eyes.
-May Colde
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 3:20 PM UTC
one sheep
two sheep
and I’m trying to fall asleep.
three sheep
four sheep
I can’t remember what I’m waiting for.
five sheep
six sheep
but I can hear their howl.
seven sheep
eight sheep
there must be wolves at the door.
nine sheep
ten sheep
or my husband returned from war.
eleven sheep
twelve sheep
when did I get out in the hall?
another sheep
and a sheep
I don’t know what I’m looking for.
a sheep
and a sheep
and I hear a roar.
sheep
and sheep
why was I coming at the door ?
a sheep
another sheep
I must go and try to sleep.
one sheep
two sheep
and I’m trying to fall asleep.
-May Colde
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 7:49 AM UTC
darling,
don't let them fool you
with their sweet chamomile gold,
perfumed coffee,
elegant and attractive champagne
or even sparkling, fun Cola.
for you are not tea,
their source of energy,
their party flavour
or their soda.
they will consume you in an instant.
because darling,
you are whisky in a crystal glass.
strong,
liquid fire,
unable to be understood by many,
but oh, so addictive.
-May Colde
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 1:41 PM UTC
it may sound crazy, but
do you know how many
species of ducks are there ?
beautiful, gracious, colorful
ducks.
well, of course not.
because you'd rather
spend your time
crying over another copy
of a swan.
-May Colde
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC
blossom flowers
melted hours
caramel sunsets
us reunited.
midnight kisses
slow whispers
dancing bodies
careless souls.
such a summer grail.
-May Colde
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:00 PM UTC
you are a heartstring
88 keys of melodious tones
that i would gladly drown in.
immerse myselfe in untill
i can no longre breathe.
float to you.
lifeless and colde.
fireworks on my insides
sparkes in my lungs
smoke in my eyes
blinding my nose
and my braine.
slowly.
painfully.
beautifully.
e.s.s.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
my nerves are full of fire
but my hands are paralyzed.
my imagination is transforming into shapes
that do not exist yet,
but it is locked behind my eyes,
refusing to be exteriorised.
my feelings colour my heart,
pumping stardust in my blood,
making my whole existence
go mad.
yet,
I'm emotionless.
-May Colde
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
The changing seasons are not more changefull
Then my mistresse; neither more vengefull
Is the wooing autumn wind that seduceth
A singing mood afore it blasteth
With bitter colde, angry and disdainfull.
Her scorne is lyke a scorpion sting painfull
In my sad heart wich bleedeth for banefull
Her who presently nowe observeth
The changing seasons.
Her cruell scorne capricious entiseth
My heart to dispaire; itt dispaireth
Dailye and dieth from disese most carefull.
Her scorne doth make my harte most woefull,
And so my smartyng heart despiseth
The changing seasons.
Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 12:21 AM UTC
sometimes I still remember
that night.
the night when everything seemed perfect.
when I felt like the universe gathered us.
the night when the cold sea breeze was kissing
the stardust.
when the Moon was calling her Sun
and even the darkest streets were melted in
hope.
the night when we felt love like time:
endless and unstoppable.
-May Colde
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
love,
not even Mona Lisa's eyes
can hypnotize me
like yours do.
-May Colde
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
sometimes I just want
to be woken up at 3 a.m.
in the morning
just to watch the stars.
to see what are they doing
while we are asleep.
because no one knows how
they live
how they truly shine.
stardust on our eyelids
to make us fall
asleep
on purpose.
their energy may fill
the entire
Universe
and we,
us,
so innocent,
so naive,
we may never know what they are
up to.
for they can bring life
with their warmth
and their light
but they can
give birth to chaos,
in an abyss of a black hole.
supernovas,
the death of a star,
we think we know them.
but how about their birth?
you never see their spells
how they conjure up and
sing together
and dance through constellations
to welcome their new sister.
no one knows.
not even the Giant
Cosmos
can predict what they can do.
so,
no new stars.
the same light.
with the same speed.
billions and billions
light years
away.
and the distance may come to us
and hunt our minds.
are they still alive ?
are they still emanating
pure, golden
chaos?
unfortunately,
for the heartbroken,
former lovers' eyes
represent the stars.
and oh, how tragic
and beautifully melancholic
it is
to better think that
the stars don't shine anymore.
if not for them,
than fo no one.
don't share the night sky with anyone.
don't wake up just to catch them.
don't dismiss their magic stardust
that puts you to sleep.
because they will enchant you
and make you wish
you never shared their secrets with anyone,
not even yourself.
-May Colde
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
how comes that
hell souds like angel
and heaven rhymes with devil
maybe there's not only one path
no mercy,
or wrath
or maybe there's only the human nature
who's just winning to lose
and forgetting not to choose.
-May Colde
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
darling,
not even the Eiffel Tower at night
can top
the light in your eyes.
-May Colde
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 9:21 AM UTC
"When the Thin Whyte Duke
And the Prince lay colde
When the fools stande talle
And the bigots bolde
The man of orange shall seize the throne
From the one they calle "The Clyntoone Crone"
Then men wille weepe and children waile
(The internete declare a "FAILE")
To no availe fore I have seene
The worlde will ende in twenty hundrede and sixteene!"
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
you burnt my eyes
so they poured oceans of water
to recover
but that’s ok
you are so proud of your flame
so I really hope that wherever you go
you leave fire behind your footsteps
not realising
that no one will dare
to follow you again.
-May Colde
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC
beware of those
who
smile with sharp teeth,
gaze with arrows
and greet with claws.
theirs shadows cover
their souls.
-May Colde
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
we adore her.
we worship the Moon
but we forget that
it is the Sun that
shines for her
and lets her
steal the show
every night.
-May Colde
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
I am melting gold on my papers.
I’m wandering trough words of honey
to spread them on your soul,
just to make it a little more sweet.
There is an explosion of light
running trough a field of breadcrumbs
from my crumpled,
but rich like blood red jam
imagination.
I write my sins with candy canes
sugarcoating them
‘cause I am only afraid
you won’t remember my good
but you will never forget my bad.
There is only hope,
hanging from a rope
and, of course,
love,
who’s silently dripping from my heart,
oh, my heart,
my only enemy
destroying me,
turning my whole lighthearted existence
into a heavy tar abyss.
not only does it hurt,
but it also tastes bitter.
like coffee during golden hours,
hot and black,
but, oh so good
and so relieving,
it becomes my essence,
my blood.
So I return to honey and candy canes
and hide behind my fingers
and behind my lying eyes.
But I reveal myself at night,
being at my true self,
a sinner,
a liar,
a poet.
-May Colde
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 10:53 AM UTC
the heat of the summer
fades facing the cold moon.
but I like it here
on our rooftop
held by your arms.
reality seems far away
when you're waiting
for the stars.
-May Colde
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
you couldn't write your words
on my soul
so I put mine
on paper.
-May Colde
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
words
are a writer's brushstrokes.
and the library
is their museum.
-may colde
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
you tried to hurt me
with poisonous tears.
you threw at me
your bravest fears,
unleashing your demons
on my bare shoulders
to **** my soul
with their tar black boulders.
-pieces from your spirit-
you made my worlds
and my words
bleed,
perfectly playing your villainous part,
you can't believe
i still make
-and breathe-
art.
but darling,
did you forget
i had a spiked heart?
-May Colde
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 1:22 PM UTC
waves and earthquakes
may have the power
to shake our world
and our bodies.
but nothing makes
our souls shudder
like words do.
-May Colde
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC