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Somya Wadhwa May 2017
Somewhere along the way of scrutiny and time
I have been taught how to despise myself.
Look pretty, darling, so that you can belong to someone someday
Because that's what a woman really wants, right?
Oh, sweetheart, look pretty but don't feel pretty
Meet your skin and bones, hair and face
With conceited egoistic chorus
Sweetheart, self solicitude is a sin
Knowing how to wear joy is nugatory
If your body cannot wear that dress
Darling, you're the type of woman people don't look at
But they will stare at you if you don't follow their established echoic narcissistic accusations
You should mistake eyes for hands
Darling, why is your skin darker than an 'ideal’ for a woman
Why are your hair shorter than your dignity
Why are your thighs fatter than your brain
Why is your bra strap showing
Darling, why are you, you
Darling,
You are made up of metaphors.
Darling, why is there a face on your pimples, don't let hormones fingerprint your face
But don't worry we'll get it all fixed
You haven't seen the actual you in years but
Darling,
It's not about you.
Sweetheart put on some lipstick
But not that red one, it's too pretty for you
Put on some perfume
But not a strong one, you don't want to attract attention
Put on some eyeshadow
But not that bright one, doesn't suit your skin tone
Darling,
Change this physicality
Oh, and that one, too
But don't you dare show yourself
You don't want to insinuate the term beautiful in regards to
A victim
Or a snack
Or
A woman.
Darling, how old will you have to be to realise
You need a 40+ skin miracle cream and not a 30+
How old will you be till you look like a skeleton who pulled on some skin
How old will you be
Till you realise being a woman does not make you a man to be seen like a man is
You,
Are a woman.
Because we are taught to live in a world where media pulls us out from the womb and and teaches us our first words
Fair and lovely
Fair and handsome
Pinched pretty pinched pretty
Female thin calm pretty
Male manly bold pretty
Darling, you
Are not a constant
You, are a variable
But, darling, you are not looking for a casket of fortune
You don't look for a diet to slim your passion down
You don't look for a mirror to examine your dreams
Darling
You
Are a thought
You're an idea
A proposition
An abstraction
Or maybe that's what everyone else is looking for.
Olivia Andrews May 2016
Mumbled jumbled crosswords of incomprehensible words scattered along my mind,
Unable to make head or tail of it all.
Darling poetry,
What are you trying to tell me?
Suffocated by a plethora of letters that envelop me like an untamed sea,
Darling poetry,
I love you so, sweet love,
For you are my soul and heart,
My morning and evening star,
Darling poetry,
You kiss my soul patching its ripped edges,
Dry my moth bitten tears as they touch my cheeks,
Darling poetry,
Panic attacks strike like lightning bolts,
And you terrify them away in angry revolt,
Darling poetry,
My saviour when the demons known as anxiety and depression show their beastly unrelenting faces,
Darling poetry,
You are my silver moonlight solace and my golden sun rays,
In unforgiving rain and gloomy cloudy days,
Darling poetry,
I have whispered secrets to you that I keep in a crystal Pandora box under the creaky floorboards of my soul,
Darling poetry,
When my heart's centre cracks and bleeds you glue the cracks shut with love,
Darling poetry?
Thank you for being my one constant constellation.
An anonymous girl ©
cr Nov 2014
darling, i should never
call you that. "darling"- it's
a synonym for everything
i used to feel with you and all
the guilt which follows it. so
badly have i wanted to stop
using it, to stop referring
to you as that, but your
name hurts too much.

darling, did i ever
mention that i traveled to
the moon? because i did,
on a night where the earth
was spinning too quickly that
all the colours bled into one
and the painting made me
*****. it's not a kind story
and ever since then, i haven't
been kind either.

darling, what's the
difference between heartache
and dying? i'm tasting flakes
of flaming ash on my tongue
and it's scorched my mouth
so bad i cannot speak everything
i feel (not that i would've
anyway). you're everything
drawn on the back of my
eyelids and everything
knifing my stomach and
everything, oh god,
you're everything.

darling, you're
nothing, you're
absolutely nothing,
you don't mean a thing
to me.

darling, i realise that
seems ironic but i've
never been anything but
that. i've been treading on
the moonlight and inhaling
charcoal and the bullet-wounds
have cracked against
the silence of your
absence.

darling, i think
i'm losing my mind.
i'm so ******* paranoid all the time.
Robyn Dec 2015
My darling
Don't ever believe you're boring
My darling
My darling
Don't ever believe you're nothing
When you're everything
My darling
To me
Sleep soundly
My darling
My darling
I can see the parting of your lips in sleep
My darling
Never forget I'm thinking of you
Darling
You're everything to me
I feeleth so anxious as the fleshy winds outside,
Invisible as their turquoise screams, I feeleth like everything is just not right;
Ah, but how if even all later suns shan't be fair,
And t'is passivity shan't ever be bound to fade?
For my soul declares-t'at he, it wants not any more to care;
And about thee only, it wants to be quiet, yet witty still-like yon pale lovesick summer glade;
I want to attach myself to our captivated hours right now;
With thee in my lap, and thy gentle whispers-as today shall be replaced by tomorrow.
I want to dream of thee once more tonight, o sweet Nikolaas;
My darling at present and from the future, whilst my only dearest, from the past.
Ah, sweetheart, why are but our subsequent hours-and perhaps paths, to suffer;
If thou art not by my side, and maketh not all t'is terseness better?
Ah, and wouldst it ever make sense any longer;
To live by him-but without thee, wouldst it but make my wild heart easier?
For censure is to which my answer, and is hatred-for I cannot help loving thee more;
I wanteth to love, and age-by thee, and by thee only, within my most passionate core,
And I wanteth not to understand anything-for comprehension shall but renew our last sorrow;
I wanteth instead-to renew t'is despaired wholeness, and its proven compassion-our love has once made nature show.

I still wanteth to remain quiet; to cherish and glitter within my wholesome devotion;
But which duly keepest me sober, and maketh my doubled heart tremble not;
Calmeth me, calmeth me with thy kisses-so enormous and tasty, like a quiet can of little soda;
Maketh me accursed, petty, and corny-maketh me thy lands' most dreaded infanta.
Tease me like I am a quivering little darling, who cannot but tries shyly still-to sing;
With a coarse voice descended from sunlight, where the worst are joy, and lovingly mean everything.
Maketh me honest, and tempteth me deeper and more;
Until I sighest and flittest myself away, with agility like never before.
Consumeth my greed-and with it, drinkest away its all befallen vitality;
For I knoweth thou shalt restore me, and reneweth all my endeavoured weaponry.
Ah, Nikolaas, how sweet doth feel t'ese blessings, by thy very side!
Nikolaas, Nikolaas, my lover-my sweet husband, from whom my hungry soul canst never hide!
Oh, and darling, Amsterdam might be cold, and plastered with one slippery tantrum;
But thou art still too comely to me-with those familiar eyes like a poem;
A poem t'at my very heart owns, and is graciously fat'd to be thine;
And thine only-for as I danceth later-in my princess' frock, I knoweth t'at thou art mine.
Ah, but fear thou not-for shall I protect thee like t'is;
I shall slander thy rival west and east, I shall degrade t'em all to'a yawning beast!
And upon my victory be I at ease-and finely grateful;
On which truth shall spring, and maketh our love venerated-and more fruitful!
Ah, just like I had b'fore-how canst kissing thee be extremely pleasant,
Even whenst he be t'ere, or perhaps-be the one concerned?
I hath to admit, t'at 'tis thee-and not him, I so dearly want;
Thee who hath painted my love, and made everything cross but all fun;
Thee whose disguise is my airs, and who hath ceaselessly promised to be fair,
Thee whom I'th dreamt of t' be my lifelong prince, with whom I wish to be paired,
Thee whose recitations lift my heart upwards, and my delight proud;
Thee whose poems hath I crafted, and oftentimes recited sensibly, out loud.

Ah, t'at devil-who told us t'at our joys cannot be real;
For they are not at all virtuous-nor by any chance, vigorous?
Ah, fear not those human serpents, darling, whose mouths are moth-like-bloodless but who canst ****;
For to God they are mortal still, and to His eyes whose jokes are not fun, nor humorous;
And thus we shall be together, as we indeed already are;
For our delight is not to be altered-no longer, as dwells already, in our heart;
We shall come back to it soon, as tonight's full moon smilingly starts;
And exalt it as wint'r comes-dear winter, as perhaps only be it, one few months' far;
Ah, and be I then, crush all t'is impatient longing, and sorely missed affection;
And vanquish all the way, t'is all omnipotent sin-of having loved only, a severe affliction;
Oh, but under whose guidance, Amsterdam shall embark again, and smile upon us;
And lift our tosses of joys, into the lapses of its sweet thunders, fast!
Ah, Nikolaas, shall we thus be together, under the wings of Amsterdam's rainbow;
To which endings shan't even once appear; as guilt be then dead-and is not to show;
The only left opus of love be ours to sing, as heaven is-so benevolent;
Betray us not, with fruits of indifference-much less once of one malice, and gay impediment;
And our happiness shall be pure-and entangled, like a pair of newborn twins;
To which our fantasies are finally correct, and thus its affixed lust-shall no more be a sin.

Such love and lust-whose fidelities shall be our abode;
But by whose words-delusions shall never arrive, and thus be put aside;
Novelties shall be fine, and their definitions shall be lovely;
They shall twitch not-for a simple moment of starched felicity!
Oh my darling, I needst to come and visit my wealthy Amsterdam;
With authenticity now I entreat: myself, myself, ah, run there-whenst stop doth time!
For as we embarketh, no more worrisome medleys shall they come again, to bring;
And to no more sonata, shall they retort-nor so adversely, and dishonestly, sing.
Ah, Nikolaas, the stars are now obediently looking down at us;
Jealous of our shimmering love, which is the lush garden's yonder, giddy beaut;
Ah, who is shy to its own mirror, and oft' looks away so fast;
But needst not to swerve, factually, for 'tis, on its really own-has but very much truth!
But still, whose hastiness maketh it succumb-and even more bashful then the sky;
Ah, as if those pastimes of its ****** soul are always about-and be termed but as a single lie!
For it shall never happen, to it-who owns our midnight hours-with one promise to be skirted away too fast;
With not even a single pause, nor a second of rest-while it passes?
Ah love, our very love; its circular stains, nevertheless, as left hurriedly-too massive to resist;
For they giveth taste to our plain moonlight-and thick'ning flavours to our kiss;
So at our first night of gaiety thereof-we won't be hunger for earning too much bliss!
Ah, Nikolaas, all shall be perfect-for felicity is no longer on our part-to miss,
And t'is part of our earthly journey shall feel, defiantly like heaven!
I shall be thine-and claim no more my thine self as his;
In thee doth I find my salvation, my fancy dome-and my most studious cavern!
All which, certainly-is his not; all which shall be ripe, and thus fragrant-like a rose perfume;
And by whose spell-we shall be love itself, and even be loved-within the walls of our private haven;
And even then, we shall love each other more-as be cradled in each other's arms; and lost like this, in such a league of harmonious poems.

Amsterdam shan't be rigorous, it shall be all fair,
Its notions are curious, like these but entrancing summer days;
Thinking of which is but a sweat-but a bead of sweat for which I most care,
Which is neither dreadful nor boastful, as I devour it avidly, amongst t'is poem I'm 'bout to say!
And t' mindfulness of which, I shall no more hastily rid of;
I was too dreary back then, crudely foreshadowed by a crippled love!
'Twas my mistake-my supposedly most punished, punished mistake;
For faking a love I ought not t've ever made, and one I ought not t' ever take!
A mere dream I hath now fiercely pushed away;
And from which I hath now returned, to my most precious loyalty,
As thou knoweth-thou hath never wholly, and so freely-left me,
Thou art all too genuine, and pristine, like yon silvery river-as I oft' picture thee.
Ah, so t'at is all true; t'at thou art my most gracious, and unswept loving angel,
A prince of royalty, and my very, very own nighttime spell.
Just like thou hath done hundreds of time, thou maketh me but delight and mischief;
And notions t'at bubble within my most, giving me charms and comfort-for me to continue to live!
Together, our lips shall be warm-and no more joy shall be left naked;
Soon as there are more tears, we shall throttle and fairly feast on it;
Making it all but remotely conscious, and forcibly-but sensibly, deluded;
Making it writhe away impaired, and its all possible soul awesomely flattened!
Ah, Nikolaas, thou shalt be the mere charm t'at leaves my odes too fabulous-by thy wit,
Oh, my darling, for thou art so sweet; o, Nikolaas, I really hath only my words, to play with!

And guess what, my darling, heaven shall but gift us nobly, all too soon;
An heir shall we claim; as descendeth one day beneath the excited full moon.
For he shall be born into our naughtiest perusal;
And demand our affection excitedly, as time is long, as arrives winter-from last fall!
Soft is his hair, clutched in his skin-so bare and naive;
He shall be our triumph, and a farther everyday desire, to continue to live!
And we shall consider him our undefined, yet a priceless fortune;
Light as the night, at times singular but cheery-like the sketch of a fine moon.
And portray in us both the loveliness of a million words;
He shall be handsome, just like our love-which is damp but funny, in whose two brilliant worlds!
Oh, my darling, I now looketh forward to my heavenly Amsterdam;
Whose prettiness shall be thoughtful, as I thinketh of it-from time to time.
Ah, thus-when all finally happeneth, I shall know thou art worth the whole entity of my thousand longings;
Thou art the miracle t'at I hath decently prayed for-and thus fathomably, the very sweet soul-of my everything.
Lin Dec 2018
Darling , you know, you know
The tears inside me burns like fire
Though I promised you not to cry
Even though you've told me to be myself
Although you don't understand how difficult things are

Though I am strong
I've walked through a thousand forests in darkness
And I am still standing up


I gave up everything for you

My darling, my darling, I want to hold you and stroke through your soft hair
While you stab me with the knife a thousand times in my heart
Darling, I'll do everything for you

My life is so pathetic and complicated
But I'll continue to smile on the outside
While the tears and grief eats up my insides

Darling, my lovely, darling, I'm yours forever
Just a poem I wrote about being in an abusive relationship and still loving the person even if you should just leave.
Frederick Mar 2013
I turned around to late to see-
The tears blinding me,
I realised to late That you
Had walked out on me
And though I knew this day would come
I Wished it be undone
Yet now the story played out wrong
I lost when I had hoped to won

So give me one more chance
Darling You have cared for me
Give me one more chance
Darling you were there for me
If I pray this now
Will things change somehow?

I always thought I had the strength
To make it on my own
I never saW the strengtH that came
From you all along
Yet noW I can plainly see
The strength from you lies here in Me
I had it all yet now I have none

So give me one more chance
Darling You have cared for me
Give me one more chance
Darling you were there for me
If I pray this now
Will things change somehow?

Here is the lesson I'd learned
That you don't know what uve had
Till its  Gone

So give me one more chance
Darling You have cared for me
Give me one more chance
Darling you were there for me
If I promisE You:
I still need you
Would you carE for me?
Be there for me?

Darling I
LOvE
You!

***
Never take anyone for granted-ever!loved ones are only lend to us for a while!
Michael L Apr 2017
Darling, have we reached perfection?
The pinnacle, the peak
Our hearts and minds fully aligned
No need to utter a word to be heard

Darling, can I call you mine?
Your name, eternally on my lips
Satisfied each day with your presence
I'll guard your heart from pain

Darling, can I be your lover?
It began with a touch of your hand
Now I'm aroused by the rest of you
Continuing to quench desires thirst

Darling, how can I resist your beauty?
Your eyes, they smile at me, I'm crushed
Lips of silk, work their magic
Hypnotic curves, lead me astray

Darling, can you stay?
With me till my last breath
Our story, it's not yet finished ...

... Darling, can you stay?
seduced ...
Äŧül Jan 2014
Dream about me & my love, my darling
Dream about us being one, my darling
Dream about your future, my darling
Dream about each night, my darling
Dream about life happily, my darling
Dream about our romance, my darling
Dream about the aspirations, my darling

And prepare dedicatedly for the life you want.
Ignore those ignoble nightmares, my darling
Remember that they are not bigger than our joint dream of a happy life, my darling

I hope that the nightmare you saw last was actually your last and now on you'll learn to control what you dream about, my darling

For that you must see the brighter side of the nightmares that all nightmares must end finally and you can control what you dream about when you are asleep.

My HP Poem #511
©Atul Kaushal
Kathleen M Mar 2015
darling they've found the body
curled up among the leaves
echoing the quiet decay
savoring the dying day

darling they've found the body
crying under the porch
choking on the insects
still she swallows more

pull out the nails
unwrap the barbed wire
cut the noose
pull out the nails
unwrap the barbed wire
cut the noose

darling they've found the body
on you're side on the bed
shes wearing white sheets
there are no eyes in her head

darling they've found the body
sitting in your place
talking with your voice
wearing half your face

pull out the nails
unwrap the barbed wire
cut the noose
pull out the nails
unwrap the barbed wire
cut the noose

darling they've found the body
her hands are around your throat
settling into indents
she put there long ago

darling they've found the body
they dig her up
wherever we go
Timothy Essex May 2010
Strange times. When I speak of caressing your mantic lungs
I don’t know what I mean, but I know
I would hurl you under proper circumstances.

Darling, one whisper falls from a tree silently
so as not to wake the ghosts from their siestas.
Your robe has holes I can’t write of. I can fathom
getting there, what that might entail, wrapping,

as I am prone to, my fingers around your furry pincers
while I wait for you to read my rights to the ceiling fan

who whirls above our renovated combustions like the glowering
eye of our Lord upon the teary-eyed wicked.
I am not looking to escape through the window, darling.

I am diving for your diamond-in-the-rough, peeling off barnacles,
making moustaches of seaweed. You threw it into that ocean-
sized trough in which you drown lizards as way of
stress-release. I don’t know what I’ll do next.

The poor man. You give me your hand,
darling, and your robe, your robe is shiny like a pubescent star,

and it shimmies like a wagon piecing itself apart, as you
piece yourself apart, starting with your smile, which was always more
like a photograph of a dune in a textbook.

You give me your hand. It is a blue egg
dusted with microorganisms. I sprinkle it with our fragrance,
what’s left of it. I wish happiness upon your sleep-life, doldrums
upon your late-night haunting. I am tired and these

machines are so convenient, bringing me on all-expenses-
paid visits to the site of your burial. Or is it your sister’s?

I quote, my heart is like a walled onion.
The poor man is tired. It is not 1904 anymore.
You are not smiling anymore, darling, but you give me your hand.

You give it in a basket with parsley and cheese
and cut-outs from The Waterlogged God.
You give it almost grudgingly but I will keep it.
You tell me you’ve been dreaming again of train stations.

I wonder what that means.
I wonder about your eyes.

There are many spiders inside the wall, and along it,
and on the chandelier’s fingers, and inside the spiders.
I quote, a dream is worth a thousand dustpans, but you,

darling, are worth so much more than dustpans.
But I grow weepy, as stated. What do those dark blue lines mean?
Your fingers, darling, smell of a dark cloud in an electrical storm.
Your palm is a circus. Your nails ticket stubs.

That one’s from the alligator show. You dislocated your
throat. I had a plan. If you stare into someone’s eyes for

more than six seconds, you’ll want to lick them.
Q Sep 2013
Darling, darling
May I hold you in my arms?
And rock you until
You've cried out every injustice
Every done to you?

Darling, darling
Might I endear myself to you?
Until your very instinct is to look to me
For the strength you need
To win every battle?

Darling, darling
Shall I be your diamond sheild?
Impervious to damage
In my complete conviction
To protect you from harm?

                                                                                    But you don't see me, do you?
I am not an option for you.
                                                                                    I won't call you darling any longer.
I am not to be forgotten.

You may never turn around to see me
And I, darl-, I may never care again.
Angie su Jul 2016
dyra darling, have you seen the rainbows over the meadow?

dyra darling, did you find the warm taste of milk near the farm field?

I havent, I havent

dyra darling, can you help me untie my emotions and put them in our closet?

I cant seem to pick up my self bleeding near our faucet.

I cant seem to find the milk and the rainbow,

I can only feel the sorrow of the storm near the meadow.

I can only feel the hurt that goes through the animals ready to die in the farm.

Dyra Darling, please leave me alone. Your presence suffocates my freedom.

Dyra Darling, please stop loving me, you will only be scarred for the rest of you life.

But dyra, you gave me happiness no one has ever given me.

yet dyra, after all this time I dont know why I stay.

I tell you i need space, in hoping i will see your face.

I tell you I cant speak, in hoping you would understand Im weak.

Dyra Darling, i hope you stay. your presence is worth more than a moment of freedom

Dyra Darling, I will run to the end of the rainbow just for you to see,

that no matter how broken I am,

I love you and I want you to stay right beside me.
suicidalsmiles Apr 2014
I count the hours,
I count the days.
Since you left me.
How much I miss you,
I count the ways.

I miss your voice,
I miss your touch.
And I miss the face,
That I love so much.

You used to call me baby
Shortie, my world, my love
You used to tickle me and tease me
And say you loved me to the moon
And back.
Darling boy,
You were so in love!

So why cant you just love me again?
Oh my darling boy
I’ve tried in vain
To forget your golden eyes
And smiling face
But that is impossible.
But you seemed to have
Forgotten me.

I so badly wish you loved me.
Once again.
I long to feel
Your warm embrace.
And to see a smile,
Upon your face.
Just one more time.

How to describe it,
There is no way.
The feeling
that is driven deep in my heart
I walk around,
In a permanent daze.

You were pure and sweet
Dangerous and troubled
All at the same beautiful time
You are truly perfect my darling boy.

I miss you so much my darling boy,
To the moon and back again.
And this feeling will go on,
Forever and ever, my darling boy.
him > everything.
Titanic-Lover Aug 2013
"Olympic,what was my sister like?
Did the people make her grand?"
"Yes,my darling,she was fine,
The finest in the land.
No one else was like her,
No one had her creed,
I knew within my very heart
The life that she could lead!
I sent my best of wishes to her
On a tenth of April day
She sailed away into the sun,
Nothing stood in her way.
Oh,Brittanic,my darling,
I wish that you did know
The spark of pride she sent in the air
Where'er she did go.
The air around her seemed electrically charged
With her undeniable glory
I watched from afar,
Knowing she'd make a front page story!
I felt pride within my soul
When people would stop to gaze
My sister was so beautiful and bound for happy days!"
"Olympic,why did my sister die?
Why couldn't I see her face?
We wait among happy people,
She's in a somber place."
"Brittanic,my dearest baby,
I cannot tell a lie
You must put up with this old girl,
And know that I shall cry.
I cannot think of my sister
Without my vision clouding with tears
I have been without her for so very long,
So many pain-filled years.
The day I heard that horrible truth
Will be etched forever in my heart.
The day I lost my beloved sister
With which I never wished to part.
When I received news of her sinking
I raced across the waves
Hoping I'd be able to say 'good-bye'
On her very last of days.
Oh,but I didn't get there quick enough!
I didn't have enough speed!
The Captain ordered me to give up hope,
An order I didn't want to heed!
I had raced across the blackened surf
Pressing to see how fast I could go,
Now the Captain ordered me to stop,
I hope you'll know the love I did know.
I wanted to go to that very spot
Where my sister's life did end,
A glorious lady with a glorious heart,
All ended by a word called 'sin'.
He hurt me with his ruthless order
Ceasing my propellers purpose-driven churn
My anger at him burned in my soul
I didn't want to obey a command
He was forcing me to learn!!
But,he forced me to learn
Forced me to turn away
Forced me to live without saying
"Farewell"
Forced me to return to work that day.

"Olympic,are you mad at yourself?
Upset you never could say goodbye?
Upset you left her all alone?
All alone to die?"

"Oh,Brittanic,why must you ask such things?!
Such things that tear my heart in two!
But,answer you,I will,my darling,
Answer you,I shall do.
I have tried so vainly to forgive myself,
Yet,half my heart is plunged in grief,
It wraps around my very core
Like a strangling ivy wreath.
No one gave me a kindly look,
A sympathetic word they did not say,
Such as "Fair Olympic,you did all you could
To save your dear sister that day."
But I tried! Don't they know?
I tried to save her as across that ocean I ran!
I would of said good-bye
If not halted by a foolish man!
Yet,I never got to say 'good-bye'
Never let her know,
Titanic! My treasured sister!
How I love you so!!"

"Olympic,I hope you know I love you,
E'en though your heart is sad,
Forgive yourself,my dear mother,
You did not commit any bad.
Titanic knows you love her,
She knows you tried with all of your might
When love drove you across dangerous waves
On that perilous night.
You mustn't keep hurting a heart
That has dealt with so much bad,
Forgive yourself,Olympic,
And then you may not feel so sad.
I'm sure she is not mad
At the efforts you did make
You avoided danger the best you could,
Though your life was still at stake.
You acted with such bravery
On a night devoid of moon
You did all you could in hopes
To get to her so soon.
I love you,old Olympic,
I'm not angered at your ways
Concern for one you did love
Has lasted for years and days.
I'm sure you were the perfect sister
As you are the wonderful mother to me
I feel so proud when I see you come in
From a long,weary week at sea.
When I am old and wizened  like you,
I'll remember the pleasures I have known
From a grand lady named Olympic
Who hid a heart so alone.
I love you,my beautiful friend
And I'll recall a story behind the tears
Of perservering adoration for one
That you won't see for the rest of your years.
And,I'm sure,Fair Olympic,
When it comes time you too shall die,
You will be reunited with your sister,
For your kindness never did falter,nor lie."

"Brittanic,my dearest one,
It is a reassuring thought,
I will be so glad to see her,
For love will perish not.
But,for now,I am nothing more than
For men to hurt and command
But I shall dream now
Of a far-off and distant land.
A land where my sister resides
Where she,perhaps,waits for me
On a big eternal expanse,
A grand,forever sea.
I am sure my time is coming up,
I am over 20 years old!
The humans will not want me much longer,
I am no longer eye-catching and bold.
Twenty years old and over is not a lot,
For me,my life did really now just begin
But the humans will not want me much longer
They will make my life end.
I am no longer the fashionable steamer
That people clamor to take
I am 50,000 tons of steel
One day that the ship-yard shall break.
That is our future,my darling,
No matter the life we had,
It has happened to a good many ship,
It is so brutal and bad.
Do not think false wishes
That I shall escape this fate.
No,my baby,I shan't,
It will be either early or late."

"Oh,Olympic! They cannot **** you!
You have such a life ahead!
How could they be so cruel
And with their blows,make you dead?"

"Brittanic,my darling daughter,
To them,we are naught more than machines
We have no life,no hopes,
They don't even think we have dreams.
I could tell you so much more,dearest,
There is so much more I can say,
But the humans want me to go somewhere,
So,I shall come back one day.
Be true,my darling,while I'm gone,
Make me proud of your ways
Strike out over life,
Rejoice in the sun's rays
I shall come back again,
Don't you doubt that twice,
I have much more to tell you
And your company is so nice!"

I watched her as she sailed away
Into the slowly setting sun
Thinking of all she had told me
And the life that she had run.
The first thing she had done in life
Were joyful sails o'er the ocean blue
Then,drafted into war she was,
And cared for the soldiers too.
I loved her so very dearly,
And dreaded when we had to part,
But thoughts of meeting once again
Gradually settled my heart.
Her Captain took her one way,
Mine took me the other,
I remembered everything I saw
So I could later tell my dear mother.
Not everything was exciting
In those future trips I took,
Months were passing,but I recalled
Everything like a reference book.
So much time was passing,
Now the time was nigh,
When I 'd wait for dear Mother to come in
From the waves she did ply.
I waited and waited that first day
Sought out on the open sea,
It would be a wonderful time
When it was just her and me.
She would tell of her trip,
I would tell of mine
How proud she was to carry the flag
Of the White Star Line.
I waited and waited to see the tugs
That would pull her back to shore,
Just her and I together,
Sharing stories once more.
She didn't come in that day,
Perhaps that she was late
Taking a little longer that
The time the humans did slate.
She didn't come in that next day either
And I started to fret!
Did she come into a different dock
Than what she'd normally get?
The next day came,and far way,
I saw quite a sight.
Something that looked like a ship,
Though didn't appear quite right.
I watched the tugs pull it closer,
Yes,'twas a ship indeed.
But,what in heavens happened
To give it this somber lead?
I could tell it was grand at one time,
Yet,that seemed so long ago,
Curiousity wracked my mind,
And I wanted to know.
This somber shell came closer,
Devoid of deck and stack,
I looked toward the starboard bow
And the name
OLYMPIC
stared
back.

I couldn't think at all that moment!
My heart welled up with pain!
Olympic! My treasured mother!
I shall never see you again!
You were right about the ship-breakers!
They ruthlessly tore you apart!
Not paying any heed to your
Loving,kindly heart!
How shall I survive,
Without your beauty and your truth?!
Those ignorant men killed you
In your 25 years of youth!
Oh,I hope they be cursed
For doing something so bad,
Now I am without you
And so terribly lonely and sad!
Olympic! Olympic!
I shall say your name over and over again,
Hoping it shall bring you back
From hard-hearted sin!
I watched as they pulled you away,
My vision has clouded with tears
Yet,I keep on watching
You endured such fears.
Melancholy feelings grip my heart
I no longer have interest in life!
I have seen the meaning full and complete
Of a word you did call 'strife'.
No more stories to be shared
On a night glowing with moon,
No longer shall I see you,
Gleaming in the sun of noon!
The men have done their worst,
I shall no longer hear your horn,
Such a proud note it had
That I've remembered since I was born!!
Olympic,Olympic,I love you,
I'm so happy you got to hear those words
I'll wait and watch and listen
As the lament is echoed by sea-birds.
Those tug boats are pulling away
Taking you to the last of your fate.
I love you so much,dearest mother,
But,the ship-breakers I hate!!
You pass so slowly before me
I gaze for the last time at your sleek steel,
So strong,once you were,
But that doesn't now seem real.
With barely a ripple the water glides
Across your red and black coat
The humans are so uncaring
Thinking you are only a boat.
Good-bye,my mother dearest,
Farewell and aurevoir too,
I hope so much you are with your sister,
In the heavenly,eternal blue.
I wish you the best of happiness
For you loved your sister so,
As soon as the ship-breakers broke your heart,
I know that's where you did go.
I am so glad I heard the stories of
The life that you did live.
I am so glad I knew the love
The heart of you could give.
I hear the echo of your voice,
The tales that you could bring
The truths of your soul,
And the love that you could sing........

"Brittanic,my darling dearest,
When I was torn into by a collision with the Hawke,
It wasn't exactly pleasant,
And I had to return to dock.
The gentle men,they repaired my ****
Made me as good as new,
Then I sailed out again
Into the ocean blue.
Then,I threw a propeller blade,
Humans called me an accident-prone sort,
But,back again I went,
To be repaired at Belfast port.
That was the last time,dear daughter,
Titanic and I would be side by side
I wished it would last longer,
Yet time did not forever bide.
People took a photo
That immortalized that day
The very last time we'd be together,
Forever together,they'd say.
I hold that glorious memory
In the chambers of my heart.
Under 'lock-and-key',
Never,ever to part.
My sister and I together
Upon the ocean's crest
Glowing in the sunlight
At our next-to-best.
Oh,that moment was so long ago
Our moment side by side.
The last time we'd be together,
Before she sadly died.
The Captain thought me foolish
To plough through icy sin,
Yet,if it meant to save my sister,
I would do it all over again......"

My mother's words echoed
As she drifted away from sight.
Now she was with the one she loved
And tried to save on a 15th of April night.
I said my last good-bye to her
When the tug boats pulled her away.
This memory emblazoned fiercly
On this unforgettable day.
I watched a little longer
Wondered if there was sadness in the sea,
The Olympic-Class was over,
Now there was only me.
My mother was a masterpiece
When she was under steam.
Like a picture-postcard,
A reigning Ocean Queen.
People once loved my mother,
They sailed on only her,
But then,there came a change,
And she became a bothersome burr.
No one sought to save her
From the scrappers filth and grime,
She was wanted no longer,
Her age and fashion,her crime.
The people remembered her little
After her scrapping day
No flowers were strewn
In her solemn way.
Did any one else say 'good-bye',
Or,was I the only one?
Bading farewell to her grandeur,
And those crimes she hadn't done.
No monuments were erected
In her grand memory.
She was the daughter of Belfast,
And her second love was me.
She filled 25 years with her riches,
And also with her pride.
Filling them with love,
The love that never lied.
I always thought my mother to be
An invincible sort.
Who had no fears,or,if she did,
She left them back at port.
Her haunting words echoed
Her fortelling of her fate:

"I am nothing more than 50,000 tons of steel
For the scrappers to break...."

She said it with a certain sadness
For that was her future path,
She didn't deny  it with falsehoods
That they would tear her heart in half.
I shudder at the thought
Of the scrappers fire and tools
Who looked at my mother so eagerly
With eyes bespeaking cruel.
The company wanted her no longer,
No matter the life she had had,

"Scrapping happens to a good many ship,"
she said,
"And it is so brutal and sad."

What had she endured
In the breakers waterless dock?
Did she think of me?
Was I her final thought?
I love you,dearest mother,
There shall never be another like you
Think of you often,I will,
Upon the bounteous blue.

I am always the daughter of Olympic,
Always shall be Brittanic,
Always shall remember the love of my mother,
And the bravery of one named Titanic.
I  will always miss my mother,
And our days together in dock,
The stories she lovingly told me,
Be also under lock.
I will probably not share my stories
With many others,true,
But if the time does arise,
Share them I shall do.

"Brittanic,what was Lady Olympic like?
Did the people make her grand?"

"Yes,dear friend,she was fine,
One of the finest in the land...."
Though I am very learned in the subjects of Olympic,Titanic and Brittanic,any one who knows the story will realize many details have been left out. The reason for this is because I made it more of a 'human-interest' poem,to show the three sisters in a different light other than engine-driven steel leviathan vessels. Placing Olympic as the mother of Brittanic makes it easier,in my opinion,to gain feelings towards the matter. Yes,Brittanic was sunk in war ages before Olympic was sold to the T.W Ward shipyard,but to mix the details around makes it more interesting. I aim this prose to  spark interest in RMS Olympic,a grand lady who is remembered little.  Put yourself in the position of Brittanic and imagine the fright at seeing the demolished and scrapped vessel as her mother. When all is said and done though,I dedicate this poem to RMS  OLYMPIC. Rest In Peace,dear lady.
Nathaniel Harley Jul 2015
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Never let him douse
your brilliant flame because his mind cannot
process what you are.

Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. He is the epitome of a
great leader but all journey's start at home
and his began with you.

Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Your picture is on the walls
of every 10 year old girl who has spent their life
walking under the shadow of their brothers footsteps.

Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. You are an angel
who has fought so fiercely and you may
be home in heaven now but just know
I sleep safe and sound in the light of your halo.

Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Darling be proud you are a woman.
-Nathan Joe (-V)
During my English Exam today, we were given the choice to write a poem highlighting the significance of women in our society (or sth, cant remember) and yeah this is what I've got... Rushed though..
W H Y*  *is it I smile whenever I
H ave
Y ou close to me darling?

W H Y  is it I feel sad whenever I
H ave
Y ou not close to me darling?

W H Y
H aven't you yet admitted I did fall for
Y ou darling?

W H Y
H aven't you ever entrusted me with
Y our fragile heart darling?

W H Y
H aven't you ever admitted it
Y ou mean the world to me darling?

W H Y
H aven't you ever admitted it
Y ou're my everything darling?

W H Y
H aven't you yet admitted it
Y ou're the angel of my dreams darling?

W H Y
H aven't  you yet admitted all I crave is
Y our love darling?

W H Y
H ave you failed to admit I love
Y *ou with all my heart & soul darling?
#Accrostic #Melancholy #Love #Poetry #wonder why
ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
life is never what it seems to be, always reoccuring with a thought as put upon the length of arms that revolutionize this thought. . .for those that can be bought,
is day like today less then feeling of want to rot, because so simple as a breeze brought down your temperment to be pleased. . .caught in a storm, that has outlasted
longer then your heart to feel content and warm, to feel the essence of a breath among a group of bad breaths, in other words, to breath among a group of brothers and sisters
from whom you can gain so much. But life is never what it seems to be, instead you look yourself in the mirror pointing at me, you, fool. Glowing from ragging frustration,
the toll blows for you unsurpassable deflation, because it is not for your hand that grows for the motion, to pick which ******* **** you want to lotion. Spearing the reasons,
the ego is your hero, born to work zero, and trusted with such hand to uphold all by command. To twist on the ****, that opens your door, to circumstances i certainly care less
the **** to continue to explore. But with this slight little mention, please pay close attention because this song is a *****. At least to explain the message, my whole is a
whole that takes life time to experience and grow, and appreciate the things that stoop all the levels around me, no barrier, no door, just genuine life experience to bring me
to come to this point to explain to the world something within the self, that is described by astute persons, for whom these ideas carry on to fulfill an immense part of
something that is casually slipped in and never thought about because it is told within reason that humanity cannot be without such astute person's idealogy. For **** sake my
friend, if your have many common sense, think of the common thing that has driven you to come to the conclusion that you have come to about anything. Everything is absolute and
existent and is evoked through the means. . .from the time of your dissapating freedom, as kids, not as adults, because look at how adults are this days. They teach their kids,
and they let others teach their kids, but the kids never get the feeling of being free. I promiss you, that cry or emotion you have experienced due to lack of friendliness from a
neighboring ****, it is an instillement that sparks up many motions of your life to believe into bizarre things the world portrays. For myself, I find the starting point of my
when I first breathed my first sensible air, when I walked in my own two feet without guidance as to where my eyes were seeing. How can a mind be so tender, lost by the misconformed
train thogh after train thought. That is why I find schooling such a fascinating ruthless thing that can be broken into several fashions as to why is that case. But not even
reason to fashion an answer that I know will and is definetly can be viewed to abhold a societal dismark of "wF"is wrong with that guy's mind. He must be **** casing a storm to
bring an ideaology of thought or some **** religion, but that's what so funny to me. I find everything in life comedic, non concerning except at times if I feel similar to
someone adjacent because that is their essence in my prescence, and I feel the need to comfort it, to bring back the importance of that self. The part of life I find so comedic,
how bits and bits and everything with **** have all so many fascinating
things to learn from, the progression of one's mind never attains self worth in the world with something interfering. That something interfering for example, is me personally
writing what is can be taken as pointless and presenting my writing to you how I say I do. But did I say how I am presenting this writing, absolutely not. So brings the funny,
that school teaches the aspect of disfigurament of a person's essence. This thing is a complete oblivion to everything and anything, that because even though I did not specify
how I tone myself on this paper, there is the predicament to assume that I am very angry deranged person who but pokes charasmatically at something no one can grip, because he
is portraying me the image the way I was bred to see. But then it is so **** funny, you can also take my words describing
all that I intend to explain and stick them against me to simplify your circumstances as to the causitive feeling your experiencing, and maybe the confusion that I am creating
noting a significant point that I do write intentionally without any figurative wording, just simply talking about this to evoke a presence of an essence within you that is hindered,
by what type of **** everybody is wearing, where they are starring, who is ******* and adoring, and who's simply the **** because they don't fit in a deranged group, developed by
ego-centric level stingers, who but want either good for you, or it is the drive to profit from you everything. That is, words blah blah, can take stroll
on one day's role and make no complete sense, and all they did were live the sense of a tangled mind that fostered on what has been in some form, taught, over
what you can call a lively existence, considering how much traumatizing headaches this could cause, and resembled among a group of similar constituents with similar reasons
as to whatever the situation might be. I could point this out within one sentence, but it wouldn't hold any deeper understanding of this essence, so instead I decide with all
my reasoning and tremendous experience that even to some, even at this gritty expertisians who grease up the world to guess everything based on study and reasoning by other humans,
who believe all these ideas are shifters to the mind but always stem the relentless, functioning without any perspectives open to the idea that mold humans into one spatial and far better
so called community, which in all it's case has lost the essence to preserve the self without a ***** on the back. That ***** of course is the communal ****, that builds from a
trigger of words, then they teach the brain as if it is known how to be as a functioning unit. The amount doesn't matter, the amount that is thought brings hope, but the most
amount to the self is the function of you, like I feel I function amongst anyone because I have come to terms and realize what really important things I have learned from my life.
My life to some is gripping, only because it sounds unbelievable, but of that life I found the same driving forces that drive madness even today, and has been reaccuring for as
long as some form of expression has been. And in all humiliation of humanity, or as I consider it digression of being self around the bounds of comfortability, it has been
a grand experience to see many a people transgress from the point of my meeting them with a continuous contact to the point of now, and then, and future plausible. But then
and future plausible for me stand out as notions needless of evocations due to the fact that the self is a dwindling factor hung by a rope to swing the way the self first portrayed
to me, and then to the direction away from the first encountered mind. But in all, without senseless ignorance, I do understand these things are studied for a reason, for a reason
that is workable to be as they are for some variables do affect person's in many different way. That is why, the sense of one roof and too many aloof is but a big spoof. With
sensibility, how can forging something into your life help you to achieve greatness within self to portray it in a manner plausible. The only way is as a current flows, so do
the gulls.



where do you. . .come from. . .so many leagues unbeknownst among my dreams.
life is never what it seems. . .until i met your eyes.. . that built
my stongest implication, dire in desire to live a life inspired. . .
but then so is, to dream upon what tends on building motivation. . .
life is beautiful sensation. . .
from the first rainfall with you meeting outside spontaneous realm. . .
we fought the solemn wind to calm our cumbered spirits. . .taking flight,
fighting what might have been. . .semeless to even entertain. . .lost in
each others warmness. . .everything we built tended harmless.

now see how we have. . .related to each other's hearts. . .left the scrutinity
at obscurity prolonged on scale of mirror. . .where it has always belonged.
now it's just time darling
i promiss it wont be long until our roots bind the maximum strong.

from even across the plains, and mountain long trip stains. . .i feel
less pain. . .from what's the phrase non loose then gain, consorting time
absorbing each other's essence in rhyme.
the deepest of sensation of you. . .the meekest of me, makes me be the simple thing
that i've reconnected to . . .to realize, the sensation of you. . .from our first
encounter, i felt deep into your eyes. . .what agree's none behind with lies. . .
you evoked the deepest motion within my sphere of emotion not to betray myself within
this realm and dark frivolous potion. . .for my first set of emotion set on your tone behind
this potion. . .

i face you eye for an eye of every day until i die, but will ever will i die. . .not with you
never. . .darling angel, angel you are my expressive tone to call you so. . .nothing more
is the essense of you that you seem to implore, how busy life must be. . .we need feel free
to good ridance from this fee that life doesn't instill our good griefs beyond simple joys and beliefs. . .
for simply darling we are each other's heart beats, if it's simple smell of you
i will carry out my deeds in hell. . .beneath on hearth this earth, where all of us have been given
birth. . .but sent to spend what is driven by multipolluted cord, the time in blunt approach from
the thing that planted our roots. . .

how i feel you is simply too rich for some dirt to enrich you. . .i simply love and cherish
every bit of your essence, it has lifelong presence that even doing what they call
reminiscing, can't surpass living without missing what they have been reminiscing. . .
i cherish you beyond what little faith can teach about having bigger faith, when all my hopes
ride faithful slopes without elongated stops and rope bearing hopes. . .
my life i see to the extent to remorse only what some feel beyond scope of too openly. . .
but how can i retreat on what i can't stop to feel to protect you from, to their heads we are getting closely. . .
how in the scope of your first essence, can i give up to give way to ruin such pure essence. . .

i understand the world makes a feeling for such pure feeling is counted by blessings. . .
and in order for us to make it, that thought i feel senseless baking . . .constant roll of assorted
reasons for why we bleed to them treasons . . .for how can i express, how simple love doesn't
just digress, or something with time you invest. . .it's simply have been a joy of building
together a foundation for our nest. . .**** the rest. . .**** the pest. . .the world is the best
when sleepers are put to rest and the spark of commune are dwellers dwelling on these mischivers'
locked up chest. . .
to find out that darling. . .you simply are a joy to give me whole, that i'm not uninspired troll
reluctant to breath beside the one he placed his greed upon. . .or her, or it. . but all the essence
is closed and beat, by some known with ideals humanity can't consider too farfetched to bare to grit. . .
and sway to the essence that i hold in my glances. . .are as simple as these branded constructed norms
that most tend to manipulate and distort to one contorted form. . . .so all can bend into one socket for 365
degree view that most tend to agree. . .but never really see.

i know it's many there with this essense around the breeze of an aura, that simply are stranded too far apart by such horror.. .
to relent their essence with their prescence. . .to whom Barbarians find the essence is planted full on messes.
but how can we relate to such things darling. . .when the first glow of your essence showed me life full
of memories by the smile in your eyes, glowing beauty of any sort. . .i feel the world will someday . . .
take flight. . .in my way, but **** that. . .i'm to speak when my message is too simple, provoked only by the
thought, "protect the world its miser mother has been beaten". . .i can never relent, the message that is never
but to contradict what's life has not eaten. . .because of the times put to squares, living life, fostering a step back, into recluce. . .these biches wont even
say cause their too ****. . .to figure out that there's a worrior to stump them pleaded sheets out of wood. . .
i say this out for your sarcasm, elongated this song a bit to give you big ******. . .so when you repose, you
think nothing but what side are the pro's. . .and enter them into oblivion, grasping each by the billion, how
can i repose for i know, without one word it is and has been always come down to the special chosen million. . .

because my darling, i feel the miser that this essence in me you inspire, is up and target for no good. . .for
these pleaded fockers granted themselves unrelentless priveleges for centuries, changing diepers to giving
blood diamond marriages. . .riding on what they call prestine carriages. . .oh what,you don't recognize this
what the world has come to building from everybody's demise. . .feeding on high rise. . .splitting cots in the
rots, most alluded with plots and continued building upon the essence of you, keeping you stewed, brewing up a flu. . .
to this day when i met you. . .
will never cease your memory by only that it was circumstance. . .romance among thieves denying our chance to dance. . .
with one glance, their world just plopped a chance. . .for i know they know who im refering to, without a glance
i'm sure they feel my stance just to look **** eyed puking. . .**** blocking their world to rocking, while else where goes to foster under
this ugly monster. . .stooped on a porch ******* their air, without any underwear. . .haha must be due to how
much pull goes to their hair. . .how do i, they feel ****** diddlidy ****, what, is this person a human or a
restored frame of mind living. . .i can't be what's in my eyes to be believing, but i simply am retarted man. . .
a ******* rough psychological fighting bluff, to them i would. . .but trust me, how could i in my life, i
never could.. . .fall to false pretention, that life is a great invention, that my desire's are for simple
hires. . .for i know my life evolves around that which your first essence, darling, we built stronger everyday
to our future of what we call present. . .

life with you, i simply can't resent. . .but figure out what's best
to make what we don't need to make. . . because the essence uproots life's shrivel of what they call romances. . .
rooting upward from the seed we planted on the day people deside to bleed
all over the notion, that this emotion they conquered stems from shot of elixir handed down from the heavens by
some they call cupid fixer. . .relentless, they push through many dances. . .all so strained and constricted by many
glances, restricting their free essence to feel in whole their life is shot down by simple messes. . . .
but you, none taken, broken and mistaken. . .how can simple things be so. . .when you know my essence for you is
far greater then what one instance can remark for the whole, i feel simply. . .protect you from their hole and
bind you with my essence that strives in whole. . .even through tormenting lonely dances. . .when i saw the world an ugly form. . .
nowhere to want to run to, or feel
resentment.. . where's life going to go. . .if my essence in a whole feeds you. . .away to their
mysterious goal. . .i wouldn't have the patience to ***** their abnormal pretence, as if life is sweet with
such mysterious fowl. . .create little thought to create bigger picture, many aditions just create tensities
among those who bicker, loosing control each time only quicker. . .that's why it's never lesser to speak for the lesser
dresser, or the person they showed you, that looked like he ******* told you, but instead they made the mistake
to grow lower. . . cowering even bolder. . . what **** is the point of that. . .to say it none meeker as if its meant to outcast the bleeker
. . .i'm not that so. . .to scowl like fowl crackhead, loosing self reliance to gr
Torak Jan 2014
Dear Darling, I have been haunted too many nights
By the cries and screams of those
That closely resemble myself.
Their pitch pulls at my fibers,
Slices my arteries, and beats on my ear drums.
I wake up in a cold sweat, with the fear of God in me every night.

Dear Darling,
These scars are leakage of my fears.
My blood is poisoned with the idea of regret.
Sadness encompasses and clouds my thoughts,
Creating a pessimistic view on positive situations.
Numbness pains my core, and spreads through my veins
As a cold slush.

Dear Darling,
I have not slept a full night’s sleep in over 8 years.
I am not scared of no beast,
Nor animal,
Nor man.

Dear Darling,
These monsters inhabit my mind,
and plagues my eyes with sights ungodly even for the wicked.
They close my throat,
And guide the blade to my arms.

Dear Darling,
They have stolen my sanity,
And I am in fear of what they may soon accomplish.
I don’t remember how these scars have gotten here,
But they cause my hands to shake,
and my knees to collapse
as I guide my finger tips over the scars.

Dear Darling,
Save me.
Ivie Oct 2013
Hey, darling, did you see my heart fall out from my chest, walk backwards, trace that air kissed pathway and look for my heart dropped, lying like a trash, toffee wrapper in front of that rose hued walled café which serves the blueberry coffee with Irish cream that you love the way sea loves the shore, pick it up love, hold it in your hand, and walk backwards, you are one of those people who never leave a novel in the middle, please don’t throw me away, I am not stale yet ,but yes I am delicate like a flower, pour water and place me in vase, will you dear? I know you have had a chunk of it, its little filthy filled with bite marks, girls with dewy eyes and hair colored brighter than spring and darker than winter stole away my summer, but will you trace it and breathe your crimson colored fall leaves into it, they will burn brighter than the candles at Christmas.

Hey darling, walk backward to the starting point, when we met for the first time, at that Mexican restaurant downtown where you always drank Sangria with slice of mandarin orange on the side, I was the glass that you sipped through, did you notice I was scarred on the rim, your tongue slipped through, and deepened the cut down the surface, funny how I was never able to pierce your tongue and you trampled all over my heart like way rivers trample over the rocks in between the course of their flow, walk toward, to where you placed my heart in a vase, darling please wrap it up in bandages and kiss it ,I sleep wrapped up in your quilt for the last time in your queen size bed, please darling, fit my heart inside my body with half of yours attached to it like the planktons to the sea floor .

Hey darling, I have a heart big enough to forgive you, for I know you hold your breath inside your lungs for too long and never sing out the lyrics you write every night, darling, wake me up, trace the skin covering the rib cage, fold your hand into mine the way origamists turn sheets into work of art, and lets walk forward, walk forward giving into a start of a new season.
EtherealOmega Apr 2017
Now that you are asleep dear I can think clearly about us.

The two people that we were, we are, and that we are becoming;
And while sometimes it terrifies me right now it merely brings a small smile to my face.

Because we are still here. Together. After nearly a two years and a half. The longest I have stayed by someone's side like this.

Bridging the gap between friends and lovers, and I think I could stay like this for years to come if only the stars will smile upon us.

But just like the stars I will wander, and because of that I worry when you call me your world. I have never wanted to be someone's world - especially not after seeing what can happen to someone who builds their universe around another whom they might eventually come to lose.
I do not want to be your galaxy, or your world, or your everything because…

Darling, my darling, my dear..

Your world is not a single people or even three.. Your world is everything you make it to be. It is everything you have ever done. Everything you will do. It is every song you sing. Every game you play. Every word you speak. And every life you touch and change.

I am just a small - though I'd like to believe important - piece to that vast and still growing space.

And, dear one. Though I know you would stand against this, I know that in the end I am just as replaceable as everyone on this Earth within your life. And though you may not understand that makes what we have all the sweeter for me. Because I don't long for forever anymore. Just for now and however long now can last.. If it's the rest of our lives then I'll rejoice, but if not I'm glad to have l retaught you what it means like to fall fast. To fall fast into love.

I hope I never have to teach you what it means to fall out of love like a thunderstorm beating it's refrain against our hearts.. but if I ever do just remember that just as I filled parts of a void left in your life by another special someone, another sweet human will come along to remind you what it means to smile again.

But they will not pick up your shards because my darling you are not glass. You are a will and soul of iron. You may be dented and bent sometimes, but you will never be broken. That next person will warm your soul.. They will fill up a place which you thought was lost to someone of the past. Perhaps me. Perhaps another. Regardless they will fill it just as you will fill something in them, and the warmth will let you change again. In the end they will welcome you into the forge of their hearts and you will either come out dented again yet stronger for it or stronger still than that with a bit more of your old shape now sharpened into a steel of comfort. Either way you will grow..

Just keep growing. With me by your side. Lets grown together for now because we still have so much farther to go. Do not think of yourself as old. You are merely aging. No time has been wasted because we are all aging; and sometimes a 10 year old can be older than a 50 year old. Age is a number it is the experiences we have lived which give us our growth, and right now we are still in a stage where we can be so very naive like babes yet in the swaddling cloth. How else would we have thought about forever in regards to two souls.

Despite this though. I wish to stand by you till the end of whatever we are. Until we can no longer shield, and guide, and care for one another. You have helped teach me to go from a place where I thought my body was all I could give as a token of care for another person to a place where I know my worth is more than what is written in my flesh.

So, my wolf... My Irish Lycanthrope.. Do not call me or make me your moon or your world.. Just allow me to be another treasured piece of the life you are building knowing that though you can live on without me.. You don't want to for now.

Just let me stand by your side, and that will be enough for however long the fates have appointed to us.
I really don't know what this is, but awhile ago.. it just flowed out and became beautiful. So I thought it was finally time to post it.

Here's to words spilled upon canvassed that may never be read by who they were written for, and for the lies we sometimes tell ourselves.
Welcome to my mind's late nights, Everyone.
- EPL (EtherealOmega)
Aiman Oct 2014
i don't have much
but i'll give you my heart
though it's broken not whole
but darling i promise you
i'll love you with all my soul

i don't have much
but i'll give you my loyalty
and love you unconditionally
i know how it feels like to be cheated on
so darling trust me
i would never do you wrong

i don't have much
neither i'm beautiful nor i'm pretty
i even have scars on my body
and darling you don't have
to change for me
when i look at you
only perfection is all i see

i don't have much
but if you need someone to talk to
even at 3 am
i'll be there for you
to make you feel better
tell me your problems
and darling i promise i will listen

i don't have much
but i'll try my best to make you happy
feeling your world
with joy and laughter
no more troubles
no more worries
just you and me darling i promise
wrote something happy for a change :)
Simon Soane Dec 2018
In 1410 the village of Little Darling was a pretty nice place to live,
it’s houses were stout and wonderful and the people had lots to give,
the lord who owned the area was benevolent, he never ruled with an iron claw,
he spoke with softness and kindness, not knowing a cajoling roar,
he left the people to get on with their lives, unless they needed a helping hand
and then he’d be there to provide a peg up somewhere in his land.
Because of this the folk who made home here had it better then most peasants from this time,
who were condemned to a life of grinding servitude as if their living was a crime,
they were happier and joyful and free from the toil of subjugate,
each second was a pleasure and every minute spent first rate,
however there was one thing they shared with those who spent every day under the cosh;
everyone was filthy, no one liked to wash.
Only about once every 10 days would they pull bathing water from the well,
If they were especially filthy and their stink they wished to quell,
the rest of the time they didn’t care that they resembled a muddy shrub,
or their faces were still covered in last weekend’s off grub,
nor did they think it mattered if their hair was a matted mucky mess
or that compost heap didn’t smell more than their locks, it actually smelt less,
to them water was mainly a drink when their mouths were feeling parched and shoddy,
not a soothing liquid  with which to  cleanse their body.
Everyone in Little Darling didn’t mind being ***** and looking a unhygienic fright,
actually not everyone, everyone’s not quite right.
Alice always wondered why folk didn’t wash
and that’s not because she wanted everyone to be pretty, pristine and posh,
she just pondered as she daily made herself all gleam,
“why does nobody else round here care about being clean?
They all wallow around in their own filth like a burrowed germ,
more buried in soil than a busy earth worm,
I don’t get when there is plentiful water from wells not that far away
why don’t they dose themselves in the aqua good at any point in the day?
She thought, “Of course it’s their own life and if you never harm anyone else you can never do anything wrong,
but how how how can they fester in their own awful pong?”
So every day Alice would get up before she heard the going to work bell
and go and fetch some water to cleanse herself of smell,
she’d make herself all fresh and totally sans of grit and straw
and revel in the gleam she had coming out of every pore.
Everyone else in Little Darling all thought Alice was great,
a truly smashing lass who had tons of friends and mates,
yeah sometimes they’d remark to her “I don’t get your penchant for keeping yourself immaculate if I had to say
but who cares, I love you, have a fantastic day!”
And yes due to the mud in the village sometimes Alice would get herself all shiny and within a couple of hours look like she’d just crawled out of a cave,
but she didn’t mind as starting the day with a sparkle was what she did crave!
One fine day the folk of Little Darling decided to throw a big party as they adored a drink, a chat and a jive,
just have a massive night of  dancing, where they could give appreciation for being alive,
as Little Darling was a ace place they invited another village to join in the hedonism,
as they wanted folk to bask in hours through a wonderful prism!
When Alice heard news of the shindig she let out a chirping coo,
as revelling in the realm of fun was what she was really made to do!
As the week whiled to an end the day of the party came,
Alice could hardly contain herself as carousing ran through her brain,
she picked out her favourite garments feeling all of a super gathering quiver,
and then full of beans moseyed on down to the river,
she washed away with gusto and dressed all primed to go out,
“I’m on my way to get down and groove!” was her gleeful shout.
She started making her path to the good times, feeling all content,
she couldn’t wait to be immersed in the hub of blazing merriment,
as she was walking to the barn where the party was she encountered others making their journey to fun,
lit they all were by the going down sun,
someone said “hey Alice, I reckon you’ve spent an eternity scrubbing yourself for this bash”,
another said “yeah, I bet you’ve wasted hours by the river to get yourself prepared for this night on the lash!”
Alice replied and remarked, “yes I may have used my time getting myself ready and not been able to enjoy the chills and sits
but at least I don’t have hay in my hair like you ******* smelly *****!”
Everyone burst out laughing and happy all skipped to the revelry,
the slow dusk sky reflecting calm as far as the eye could see.
They jaunted into the barn with the music already in full swing,
the harp, drum, lute and trumpet players all doing their tuneful thing,
Alice grabbed a jar of foaming ale and started moving her body to the beats,
each noise in the air a consummate amazing treat!
Then from out of the corner of her eye she spotted a guy with dancing around in the air,
who'd cleaned his garb,
and washed his hair!
Alice thought "Wow! That guy doesn't look like his stench would make my opticals weepy,
in actual fact he makes my heart all leapy!"
They saw each other and felt swirls and sparks,
a knowing of what could and will be lover’s larks,
a chance they both knew could never be missed
and finalised their first look synchronicity with a longing kiss.
Everybody else stopped,
turned to look,
and knew a little bit more about
loves' rushing roars,
and couldn't help but breaking out
into a round of applause.
Alice felt a dawn,
reciprocated the smile of her fresh guy
and hand in hand they left the barn,
on their lips a glimpse of forever,
and went to find a empty stable,
where they could become all
***** together.
Little Bear Apr 2016
As he enters the room, the dimming light shadows the form which lays on the bed. Soft murmurings are heard, she is in an uneasy sleep.
Her form so fragile, so delicate, lays curled and hugging herself.
He can't believe his eyes.. She is home.

His heart pounds in his chest but this time, not from the adrenaline or fear, this time it is relief and love.

"Dog.. he whispers, not wanting to wake her, Dog go now.. good boy"  Dog looks up at his Master and then obediently leaves the room..
he knows now everything is okay.

Lowering his gun, his hands shake as he replaces the safety catch and stands the still loaded gun in the corner of the room.
Taking a moment to compose himself,
to tame his raging heart
he closes his eyes and holds back the tears
which threaten to fall.

He takes the oil lamp from it's place and, lighting it with a match,
he watches carefully as to not wake her.
He lights the lamp and dims the flame.
It casts a warm glow about the room
and the shadows disappear.
Taking a few steps towards her he notices how drawn she is,
how tired she seems.
Dark circles around her eyes where she
has not slept soundly in so long.

Pity fills his heart, pity and a desperate ache for his lost love.
Moving slowly, thanking his lucky stars he has only socked feet,
he quietly approaches the bedside.
He places the lamp on the dresser and turns to see her,
sleeping in a ragged dress, her feet ***** and sore.

"My God.. where have you been my Darling?"
he whispers and a sob breaks from his chest.
His hand clamps over his mouth but the sound stirs her and she mumbles words he cannot clearly make out.

She is so small in this large bed, so broken..
nothing like the beautiful being that she was a few months ago.
She has been missing for weeks.. months.
And now,
now she lays in their bed..
And she is alive when he thought her dead.

Her words become clearer as she gains consciousness,
although still asleep she is waking slowly.
"My Love.. she softly utters .. My Love, please... home"
And the words bring him to his knees.

Desperate to touch her,
to feel her in his arms once more,
tears stain his cheeks and his vision of her,
of his world.
Everything blurs as the tears flow.
Taking her hand in his he kisses her fingers,
praying this is all not just a dream.
Kissing her gently, each and every finger,
pouring all his love upon each finger tip.

Her hand, her fingers move and gently hold his.
And he looks to her face, sensing she is waking
and he sees her eyes are open,
looking at him in the warm glow of the bedroom.
A frown mars her beautiful face,
she takes a moment to believe what she truly sees.

Her voice is unsteady
"Am I home? Is it really you? Are you there my Love? "
"Darling yes, his smile radiant and, with tears in his eyes,
he kisses the palm of her hand..
yes my Darling you are home.. you have come home to me"

She, for the first time in months,
feels safe. Feels overwhelmed with feelings of joy..
and still cannot believe
she sees her handsome beautiful husband before her.

Smiling she cries,
"Oh My Love... I am sorry, my love please forgive me"
She sobs..
her tears now turn to sorrow
as she holds out her hands to him,
begging forgiveness.

He climbs eagerly onto the bed,
kneeling in front of her.
His arms take her and hold her tight,
holding and placing her upon his lap.
She has become weak and is so fragile.
He lifts her easily, taking her trembling body
and surrounding it with his own.
Warming her skin with his own.
Kissing her hair, uttering words of love into her ears,
filling her soul with warmth and kindness.
Rocking her,
calming her disquieting thoughts,
wiping away her tears with his fingers
as his own tears still fall into her hair.

And he kisses her hands,
her fingers,
her lips.
"My Darling... where did you go?..where did you go?"
Holding her tight,
never wanting her to leave his sight,
not while he still has breath in his lungs.
  
His hands feel her as she hugs into his chest,
she holds him,
so strong and warm,
her anchor, her Love.

And his hands settle about her waist,
softly stroking her body,
noticing how thin she has become,
her curves have all but disappeared..
except for one..

A soft swelling in her stomach.
A noticeable and very soft ..
bump.

He places his hand over the bump,
covering it entirely with his large hand.
Feeling it's roundness,
feeling over the soft curve of her skin.

"My Darling? are you... are you with child? my child?"
his words are in disbelief.. in awe..
slowly turning to elation as he feels her nod against his chest..

"My Love yes... You are going to be a father.."
she tentatively gives him a watery smile..
so unsure of his reaction to the news and this...
this being the reason that she fled..

"Dear God..." He is stunned and light headed...
and sees stars..

In just one fleeting moment he sees in his minds eye
a small child playing,
a baby sleeping,
a child running with Dog and playing in their garden,
he sweeps up the child,
hugging and kissing their rosy cheeks,
hugging his Love close as they wander back to their home..

Dog trotting along happily at their heels...

And the moment fills his heart so full that he cries as it overflows.

"My Darling... My Love... you.. we.. are going have a family?
Oh.. my Darling I want this.. I want us .. and know that,
anything you give me is a blessing,
never think...
don't ever think I would not want this My Darling...
a family..
Darling I thought you dead,
and instead,
you bring home to me a new life.
Our child"

She holds him tight and gives him all of her love
and will never let him go,
sobbing her elation into his chest
as he holds her for all of his life.

And their child quietly grows,
feeling already such love.
I wrote part one and part two a while ago..
it's here somewhere :o)
So part three needed to happen..
and I am glad it finally did
x

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1535616/coming-home-part-one/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1535632/she-is-home-part-two/
Valeria Lopez Sep 2015
Don't cut youself. You are worth more than that.
Darling,put the blade down. Cutting isn't the way.
The feeling of the blade across your skin is relieving yet it's not the solution.
Blood runs down your arm/legs.
Red taints your body.
Darling,put the blade down. Don't cry. Don't let your demons win this battle. Your
Body is on the ground.
Darling, put The blade down. People cry around you. You don't wake up.
Darling,put the blade down. Everyone tries their best to wake you up. Your blood is everywhere.
Darling,put the blade down. You deserve better than this. Throw it away. Don't harm yourself no more. Fight that urge to cut yourself again.
Darling,please put down the blade. Don't taint your body red no more. You are worth more then you know.
I hate the dripping dark hollow behind the little wood;
Its tips a cursed maroon with a blood-red heath.
I think I praised and lamented it too soon;
Before seeing its scent; I saw already its stray mystical death.

My crown is torn, outraged by florid winds and scorn;
Like a tangled old roots of the windblown thorn;
I shall feel scanty by my own poetry,
And throw it about, duly, like a static little joke.

I shall let my heart grow dull and illiterate;
I shall not taste joy, no more, in any clear--flowery fate.
I shall seek everything bitter, and not sweet;
Even not pure as the honey of a bee; for it shall be plain.

I shall curve and bend any straightforward light;
I shall harass it, and blind it--as if my ghost’s dead soul is very not here.
Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Perhaps she is astray in my memory still, and not by my side.

I feel relieved so soon as glanced at her beside me;
She owns still that full lips like a perniciously tasty moon;
She is adorable like the flower of heaven itself;
She strikes me again when away, and tosses me about when near.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
Tame me again with thy rain of laugh;
Saint me once more like a fresh young bird;
Come to me now, and return my unheeded love.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
And kissing her forehead takes me back to that day;
A day of myths, a day of agile swans and storms;
An ornate time of hatred; a whirl of bitter fate; a dust of sorrow.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
And again I was alive in this tale, with a burning heart;
On one eve of tears, a mischief, and a wan poetry;
I caught about shadows in which there was no soul of Maud.

I could only see the stones, lying ghastly about the fireplace;
Ah, Maud, are you but still haunting those whimsical moors?
Their strange murmurs but I cannot hear;
But still they consume me, ah, I am scared;
I wish they would be gone soon, I wish you were but here.

These storms were amusing but peculiar;
They are bizarre, but intelligent and stellar;
And calling thy name out but breathes into me strength;
Ah, but should I be here, and bear away thy image alone?

Ah, and thou wert in but nymphic and lilac dream;
And my heart was still not massaged by the tender storm;
For it meant thee, and hungered but for thee only;
And in the midst of love had it longed, and yearned for thee.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Her with her childish eyes and rounded head of bronze,
With her rapturous steps and wild glittering aroma,
With her atrocious jokes, and a wintry secret touch?

But still she was not anywhere about;
She dissolved like one romantic bough of soda;
And within a rough joke, she would be but gone;
And now the storm returned, but I was wholly on my own.  

Ah, and now the striking storm is mounting the earth;
Should I write alone and chill myself by the green hearth?
For I hath nothing to console and lengthen my parched logs;
I shall wait outside and drift about yon wintry bog.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud;
Maud with her heart-shaped face and bare voice aloud;
A voice that soaked my senses and craving throat;
Maud but teased me and left me to that joke.

Where is but Maud, Maud, Maud and Maud;
Maud, the goth princess within my ancient poetry;
Who but remained symmetrical and biblical in her vain torments;
Who but stayed sturdy and silent; amidst her anger, and vain fellows’ arguments.

Listen to me. I am but full of hatred.
I am neither a gentleman nor a well-bred;
I, who is just a son of an infamous parson;
A malleable son; with a bleak aura of a putrid spring.

I, one who crafted ingenious jokes;
But interminable as they always are;
I made Maud sit still as I held my woodwork;
While she perched herself on yon bench, gazing at dispersed starry stars.

Maud the shadow in my pale mirror;
At times she ceased at morns, but retreated at night;
On her brother’s sight she fled in horror;
But on mine her smile turned me bright.

Maud was idle, sparkling, vibrant, and tedious;
Her heart was free and not marred by stupor.
She was the sun on my very bright days;
She made me startled; she always left me curious.

Maud the green of the farm, the red of the moon;
Without her everything would spring not and remain odious;
Everything would be bleak and stayed tedious;
Ah, but still I could not own her, though I was her saviour.

I was a farmer and perhaps still am;
Perhaps that’s why her mother ditched me with shame.
Maud said she had not places like home;
Her house was the mere shallow--and gratuitous throne.

Maud came often down and agitated;
Her mood shadowy, she cried and cried too aggravated;
I caressed her back, and placed my palms on her white knees;
She told me stories whenever no-one else would see.

She wanted not to mount the throne;
She giggled often, at our country escapade;
She loved my cottage, she sweetened my thin grass;
Even those apple trees had then her eyes, which sprayed tough, lonely seas of green.

Maud took to hymn and dear children’s little songs;
She was popular always among the talkative throngs.
She would love to dance and wiggle and turn around;
While village pupils gathered to sing a noble sound.

Ah, but when the mirthless prince arrived;
With white horses and swords of a knight;
Maud was swallowed every morning, all through day and night;
Maud was no more seen by my side.

I thought I was not alive, for dreams were unreal;
If they had been, then they I’d have want’d to ****;
But seeing Maud not gave me fretful chills;
I often woke up tensely, within a midnight’s shrills.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Maud my bumblebee and my delicate little honey.
I kept waiting for her behind the rustic brook;
I fetched my net and fished by my old nook.

Ah, and where is Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
My eyes were still and my chest could no more speak.
I wearily fancied she had been kidnapped faraway;
She would be jailed in a sore realm, and would no more be back here.

Ah, for had she been lost, then I had lost my ultimate pearl;
For there would no more be magic, there would be no more of her;
No-one would so restore my original spring;
Perhaps there would be no spring at all, and I would suffer in summer.

And I would lose anyway--my lyrical, elusive demon;
For Maud had always been elusive herself.
She wore that evil smile and thin laugh;
As I told her tales of fairies that she loved.

As I am fond of magical poetry and dramas;
Maud too used to read them with genuine personas.
She was my epic fanatical little devil;
She liked tropical cold and a faithful Mephistopheles.

I should be Faust, as she once said;
For had I fair hair, yet a bald head;
She said like Faust, I was cleverly amusing;
But to me, like Mephistopheles--she was unusually entertaining.

She danced before me a beautiful ballet;
She was young and keen to levitate as a ballerina;
She crafted me limericks and such fair lines of sonnets;
She made earth my heaven, and my melodies a twin cantata.

Ah, and where is Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
I need my butterfly amongst this wheezy curdling cold.
I need my lover to soothe my chained hysteria;
I need to get out of here, and feed my love with her charms.

Ah, but where is Maud, Maud, Maud, is not she here?
I was then screaming in my solitude, could she but not hear?
I could speak not, no more--sore and wounded by this snowstorm;
I crept sick and weak like a dumb old worm.

She was not even heard of upstairs;
While I was dying here as a roaring beetle.
I hath almost lost all my creative flair;
I felt tormented and neglected and nearly feeble.

Ah, but a story like this is not such a fable;
So at that time I did shun sadness and seek a warm ending;
But indeed, to escape fate the poor were perhaps not able;
And the farmer’s son shall never be a king.

And ‘twas the nobles’ right to be idyllic;
To be deemed far then fairly righteous.
My charms were trivial, and so was then my wit;
My prayers were too parted and despaired; no matter how rigorous.

I kept my work along the countryside;
I toiled all night and behind fierce daylight.
I hoped Maud would see me back one day;
But what I found was to my dismay!

Ah, Maud, for she was now engaged;
To that pathetic creature the cursed morn brought about;
And parties arranged, voices too raised;
The union was now what people had in thought.

Onto my shoulders my head kept sinking;
I killed myself nearly, for my irksome defeat in this rivalry;
A rivalry that failed to transgress vital destiny;
A rivalry I could not even bear to think.

But again, this love had always been everything;
And thus Maud’s union would equal my death;
One night I crept out of my bed;
I had in hand a keychain and a net.

The soldier was infused by sound sleep;
And into Maud’s grand chamber I crept;
Everything was pink and quite neatly kept;
But woke I her not--as I heard her breast breath slowly.

She was tremendous still--in beauty;
Maud in her splendour; so young and free.
Ah, she was free but not free, I fathomed;
I looked at her over and over again.

I looked at her violet bed and comfort net;
Ah, my Maud too ****** and temptingly red.
She was too abundant in her young and chaste soul;
Ah, I could not imagine how she would soon be one else’s.

Long did I stand; ‘till morning streamed back again;
Still I remained unmoved; I stared at my darling in vain.
I jumped startled as the door opened;
And showed me the horror of the Queen!

‘Come, ye’ fool’, she voicelessly instructed;
Her face emotionless as these words emanated;
‘And embrace thy very fate’, to the handcuffs me she directed;
‘For daring look into my dame’s immaculately flawless chamber’.

She pointed thereof--a black gun at my chest;
It would soon burst out and tear my vest;
And even fly me straight to death;
So drifted I, without further haste nor breath.

Those poor soldiers imprisoned me there;
A cellar room at the top of filthy stairs;
I stayed awake only for grief and tears;
And most of the time I laid about sleepless and stared.

I grew skinless as my bones squinted;
And laughed at me with their sordid might;
Flies were about me, bending onto my rotten pies;
And slices of meat left out by sniggering guards.

I hit my head on witnessing Maud’s cold marriage;
‘Twas on a Saturday on the castle’s rain-wetted field.
I heaved myself onto the windowsill and saw;
How the couples were blessed and sent thereby back.

I could not see Maud’s face and fleshy cheeks;
But didst I feel her discarded tears;
Marred and defiled her lovely fits;
Though just those innate, and not out there.

I struck the lifeless paint with my bare palms;
Now the walls were tainted; they smelled like my blood.
Time passed and desire for Maud was never killed;
I’th missed her every day, since then, and perhaps always will.

But my love for Maud was never probable;
I was decent, honest, but indeed not preferable;
I was not even preferable by fate, as thou might see;
Fate who is neither truthful; nor frankly urges us to lie.

I often laid hopeless by the moonbeam;
Until night came and eyesight grew more and more vulnerable.
I waited ‘till it was dark and left to day no more gleam;
Then took my journal of Maud’s jests and read her affable poems.

I turned around--and would disgrace my bed still;
I was plain starved but had no desire to be properly fed;
Of a dream of death I grew instantly pertinacious;
And of my future tomb I grew fonder--and yet rapidly curious.

Ah, but my sweet Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
And deliriously she somehow became pregnant;
But remorse said she kept the souls of two;
And fatefully could not make them both perfect!

I indeed plain prayed for Maud’s survival;
I cared not whose sons they might be;
Ah, but the twins were still sinning babies--as I comprehended,
For they were formed not from cells of mine!

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud,
And during those last days she was cautiously ill;
And a drive of cholera had again grown widespread;
But she was not maddened; by it she was not marred.

She was sickened by temper still;
And the prince found dead, she grew more terrifyingly ill;
She had a pure heart, so she flourished not over the beast’s death;
Nonetheless, he remained the father of yon sickly offspring.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud,
I was duly growing perfectly anxious;
She was to give birth--ah, to those little ignoramuses;
And within a little chord in one or days of two--she would do so.

But without a father to care for her notorious sons;
And even I was locked away, and could not do so;
I was terrified, I was horribly undignified;
To learn this stern reality we were so sullenly faced with!

Ah, not now! I could not too believe my ears!
Maud and her children were dead--they’d been stillborn;
Before they left Maud alone to receive her fate;
Her locksmith would not come; he had another due in a nameless town.

By the time he arrived my darling had gone;
Perhaps she was now shimmering in heaven;
Enchanting her children with her enormous spells;
Narrating stories no plain human could ever tell.

Even in heaven my love would perhaps be famous;
Her tenderness would make other angels jealous;
And angered by envy, they would gather and complain to God;
How an earthly soul could be more vivacious than their heavenly were.

Ah, but where is Maud, Maud, Maud;
Maud and her chain of songs that were never to be broken;
Maud and her familiarity with gardens and blue lilies;
Maud and her immaculate pets of birds that still sweetly sing.

Ah, but where is my darling, my darling, my darling;
My eternal ocean, my hustling flowerbed, my immortal;
My poem, my enchanting lyric, my wedding ring;
My novelty, my merited charm, my eternal.

And now she was longing for her grave, as I’d been told;
For I’d been told by the dimmed torches and fuss and mirthless air outside;
By the endless wandering and the prince’s wails and wordless screams.
Ah, my Maud had now migrated from her life--but attained her freedom!

And he was thus unworthy of being in her heaven;
Her heaven where there would be me, her true love;
And thus he would be glad to greet his fires of hell;
He would marry an evil angel there--and make himself again full.

But I’d be with Maud, Maud, Maud and Maud;
I’d be again with my gem, indefatigable little darling;
Whose voice was unsure, whose poems were never known;
But ‘twas enough that they’d been known to me, her secret--ye’ dearest lover.

So took I, that spinning penchant and a circle of strings;
The edges I matched to the chains on my ceilings.
I braced myself for my very own fiery death;
But again, I’d be with Maud and death would no more, aye, be sad.

Thus the above poem was done by my spirit;
But with the same token and awe of genuineness and wit;
I feel tired--I shall close my eyes, and thus enjoy my heaven now;
For my wife and starlings are all waiting for me to-morrow.

It is now nighttime in heaven;
And there is indeed, no place on earth lovelier;
I gaze into my wife with a loving madness;
Her cheeks sweeter still, than any proudest swiftness.

I shall take my vow of marriage tomorrow;
My proud wife sitting in yon angelic chair by my side.
I shall cradle, then, those white little nuptial fairies;
They are Maud’s children’s, but lithe and gracious and bow to me in chaste mercies.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, she is but all mine now;
I am still surprised now, as sitting by this heaven riverside.
One even grander than the one I’d had beside the lake;
Which I often farmed when I had needs to bake.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, she is a ghost but as ever lively;
We are both dead but she boldly remaineth lovely;
I know she is worthier than serene jewels or mundane affairs;
And still she is worthier all the same, than any other terrific palace--or heir.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, and this war is but all over now;
Thus let us dream dead of the exciting tomorrow.
We shall see life and our children grow;
We shall witness delight--and miracles none ever knows.
Lex Jun 2015
July 11th, 2014. I saw you.

I mustered up the nerve to talk to you. I didn't think I'd ever see you again.

July 19th, 2014. Well, I saw you again.

And you knew who I was. My heart skipped maybe 10 beats when I heard you say "Yeah, I remember you!"

November 23, 2014. I was the one who purposely saw you.

We had somewhat kept in touch, even though I desired more than just "keeping in touch." You made me feel alive.

January 18th, 2015. Most likely the last time I could say that I saw you.

We didn't talk, but you looking me right in the eyes and smiling, that made up for it.

February 2015. You said "I miss you, darling."

March 2015. You said "Your voice sounds beautiful, darling."

"Make me happy, darling."

"You should be happy I'm talking to you, darling."

"It makes me sad when you don't do what I want, darling."

April 2015. Silence. I couldn't tell if the guilt you made me feel made me miss you more or less.

May 2015.  Exposed. I was a victim of your mind games. I wasn't the only one. Someone broke the silence that broke your success.

May 2015. You say "I'm embarrassed."

I say "so am I."
Olivia L Feb 2016
Darling, I know that you are
Confused.
Upset.
Lost.
Out of control.
And don't know why.
Have you ever punched the wall just to hear the smash of your hand crunching against the hard paint?
Darling please, you don't need to.
Just take a breath and hug yourself instead.
To feel the twinge of pain that radiates from your knuckles to your fingers to your palms, and, if you hit hard enough, to your shoulder blades?
Darling please, don't hurt yourself.
Too many people have done that already
Have you ever taken your hand down and stared at your hand, amazed that no evidence of your pain and anger and confusion is even there?
Darling please, you aren't alone.
You just need to stop hiding.
Have you ever stared at your mirror and begged your reflection to tell you why you have this gaping hole within you and
Darling please
All you want is answers
Darling please
All you need is a reason
Darling please
All you need is love
Darling please
Remember that love is all around you.
You just need to lower your fist
Open your palms,
Turn away from the mirror,
And listen.
This is actually gonna be my slam poem this year.. I guess I think this ones pretty good..
none entity Oct 2014
Just what was love to you, sweet darling of nothing but bitter
what were its intentions
what reason was it there for
what wonders did it long to see
How many desserts did it wander
how many oceans did it swim
how many infernos did it dare enter
Darling, just what is love to you?
Was it as visible as your crystal-clear mirror
or was it as hidden as the flaws you tried to bury six feet under
while she was enveloped well in layers and layers of your pockets
in her gravestone, written, “Suffocated”.
Darling, just what is love to you?
Was it as long-lasting as the stains you’ve left in every room inside her house
or was it as impatient as those almost-adventures to deep seas, warm sunsets, and high mountains
she was just as ready and as packed as you were but you were already-distant when she went out the door.
Darling, just what is love to you?
Was it as understanding as the sea is to the shore
or was it as frustrating as a thread through the tiniest needle’s eye
you covered her in you salt-water and embroidered on her skin as if it was paper.
Darling, just what is love to you?
The truth is, darling; love to you was no one and nothing other than yourself.
That was all you ever cared for.
That was all you ever sheltered.
That was all you ever loved.
You were the desserts she wandered,
you were the oceans she swam and
you were the infernos she burnt in.
Darling, which was love?
Love to her was the mistaken-beauty in you
and you were so twisted in your paths to even
see how astonished she was that
one day her heart died loving yours.
You slapped heavens out of her and
ripped her silken being
whilst love for her was you.
Darling, you aren't much of it, are you?
Finn Schiele Jun 2013
One day, darling.
One day, we shall meet.
One day,
We lock eyes across the room by pure chance.
Whilst I am playing a wallflower
and you are playing a rockstar.
In the midst of my seeing
and your being seen.
We look directly into each other’s pupils.
One day, darling.

And I see a town crier,
my voice and feet,  in your face.
Maybe you see a poet, a dancer.
A storyteller.
Your spigot. A minstrel.
Like a fairy that whispers
charming sweet-nothings in your ear.
One day, darling.

You give a smirk
that gives me flutter.
I touch your shoulder with my pinky
as I reach for the plastic cup to fill it with another dose of cheap wine.
Your skin perks up and contracts.
I act as though I didn't notice,
but you know it was deliberate.
And I know you know.
My half-hearted bashfulness.
Your half-arsed cockiness.
We drink ourselves to semi consciousness.
As we indulge in our awful drunken dancing,
your hand slips in and rakes across my abdomen, and
my hand lingers around your bony hips.
I want to just grab handfuls of your ****.
However, even drunk, I am not that bold.
One day, darling.

I ditch my friend who dragged me there.
You fall straight onto my bed.
My bedroom in a flat I share with my best friend.
I look at your feet dangling off the edge of my bed,
kicking off the shoes.
I think of how quickly you have claimed my space.
And how much it excites me.
I slither in next to you.
And you engulf me, wait for me to overflow.
Both of us half aware, but fully euphoric.
One day, darling.

In the morning, you fry up my flatmates bacon,
scramble some eggs.
In my kitchen wearing nothing but
your underwear and t-shirt.
I make tea.
When you ask, I simply say I don’t have any coffee.
There’s a bag in the pantry. I just can’t be bothered to take out the press.
We eat together on my balcony.
Barely dressed.
Sober but painfully hungover.
Your smirk is now a softer grin,
but with the same glint in the eyes.
We don’t speak a word,
because it gives us headaches.
I put the dishes away and
set up a pool chair in the balcony.
And we cuddle up under the sun,
feeling the light breeze on our ears and brows.
So naturally. Naturally.
One day, darling.

We break every rule written in Cosmopolitan,
told by our friends from school,
by people on television.
Those mind games to test each other or
guess our feelings become moot.
Because your hands become so
comfortable to rest my head in.
and I enjoy the weight of your head on my back,
like it belongs there.
And because there is no time to ask, wait, or waste.
One day, darling.

We spend countless days on the beach,
bathing in salty water, sand, sunlight, and each other.
We smoke kush and you buy me a ****
because I can’t stand spliffs.
I drawl on about my quasi-Marxist stateless communist utopia.
You stare at my face, not saying a word
and smile, even though you don’t give two ***** about a word I’m saying.
And I know you don’t.
You take me to bars and parties and social gatherings,
and I go everywhere you want me to.
Even though I never leave your side,
or speak to anybody else.
I go every time.
The days I cannot move an inch away from my couch
because I drown myself in useless, endless influx of thoughts and emotions.
You stay-
Sometimes, just far enough that I can’t feel your over zealous heartbeats full of life,
but close enough you can see me.
Sometimes, pressed up right next to me so I cannot make a move.
We drop acid together and spend the whole day
doing nothing but hallucinating while sipping my signature honey-lilac lemonade.
We pop a molly and have ***.
Which short-circuits my brain a little,
and brings you closer to the thing you call god.
You sing my words and
I dance your tunes.
So quickly, your fingers learn my hair.
And my palms know your chest so well.
I have never been so excited and comfortable.
You, of course, have never been so fascinated. Enchanted.
One day. Yes, one day.

And the summer comes to an end.
Because the earth didn’t actually stop
the day we met (no matter how much it felt such to us).
You go back to school, and I probably move on to a new city.
I give you my email or whatever.
But it’s useless.
Because you are young and new.
You have many things on your agenda -
people to become, things to acquire, places to be.
And because I won’t keep still.
Because drastic changes are so inevitable for both of us.
The world is so large for both of us.
Still, I know (I mean, I know) you have carved
a permanent spot in my mind.
But I can only hope I am the same to you.
Because, suddenly I don’t know a thing about you.
My Darling's eyes:
Embers of molten gold,
An ocean of stars nigh,
Mine eyes dost behold.

My Darling's eyes:
A pulchritude cauldron
Akin to the skie's lanterns
Yet are but of chalcedony.

My Darling's eyes:
To be on the mark
Are but diamond dunes
If not a fountain of sparks!

My Darling's eyes:
Effulgent stars in a cluster
Swaddling velvet night skies
With celestial shore luster.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
20th September 2016
#Be on the mark is an idiom that refers to be accurate or correct.
DRPQ Feb 2015
"Darling, if you really loved me you would make it sure.
Darling, if you really loved me you would keep us pure.
Darling, if you really loved me you would leave me alone and know that we are noxious for each other.
Darling, if you really loved me you wouldn't have said those things.
Darling, if you really loved me you would take things for a walk and settle it before evening.
Darling, if you really loved me you shouldn't have taken advantage of the fact that I was so stuck on you!
Darling, you if you really loved me you would've
You would've."
Sjr1000 Mar 2014
Take me my darling
take me my love
take me
somewhere
I've never been before.
Take me my love
take me my darling
to a world
of make believe
where I can be you
and
you can be me
where surrender
is a victory
and
screams are whispers
of
"I love you".

Take me my darling
take me my love
give me all you know
or
ever knew.
Where we both have paid our dues.
and
have nothing to lose.
No more silence
no more rouge
all
masks are started a new
when I am kissing you.

Give me a circle
give me a square
give me a triangle
make me a dare
to face that fear.

Take me my darling
take me my love
take me on a voyage
and
leave me
there.

The sheets
are on the windows
to
protect  the night from rising
sunlight
take me my darling
take me
there.
David P Carroll Jun 2017
Oh my sweet darling
I love you never
Knew I could love
You so much I do
Oh sweet darling
I'm in love with you
Forever in love with you
Darling you no I love
You oh sweet darling I do
I do oh I do love you I
No I do love you your
The only one for me
Sweet darling I love you
I could never find a better
Women to love in life only
You my sweet darling love.
© 2017 David P Carroll
Love
Margaret Sites Dec 2010
Hello Darling.
I see you've met my coffin.
Her name is Death.
And she welcomes me.

Hello Darling.
I see you've read my will.
It rips as it goes by.
And it screams mendacity.

Hello Darling.
I see you've read my tombstone.
You sound "My Dearest Darling."
And it cackles in revulsion.

Hello Darling.
I see you've hung yourself.
You twist and contort in the truth.
And it tells you Death by Darling.
_

'08
Marzanna Sep 2013
They called me before they put it on the news
The phone rang three times
It was two in the morning
I answered with
"Who the **** is this?"
The the answer that came back to me
Was something I would have never dreamed
Though they came to our house several times that week
And wrote on their yellow legal pads
Even when they took you to the station for questioning
I still thought
"No, not my wife."

It was the police
Calling to say that after hours of interrogation
You'd confessed.

My darling, my dear,
I ask you not as an enemy
But as a friend-
How could you?

Did bullets leaving a gun sound too much like
The blood pushing through your veins?
Did you look at them and see not humans
But colours and noises and air?
Was the allure
Of taking a mortal and carving their veins into shreds
Too much for you to control?
Was there some violence in your past that you had to avenge
On all the humans you could reach?
Please, my darling, my dear,
How could you?

On our wedding day
When your dress tore and we fought
Did that contaminate your love?
When you took a exacto-knife
And carved a bird onto the boys skin
Did you think that perhaps the bird was you?
Did you fly? Do you regret it?
Do you regret me?
My darling, my dear,
How could you?

I think perhaps you were Mary
And gifted with a child
But you saw it, weaker than you
And burnt it alive.
Was the pain of knowing
That you could
Greater than morality
Of if you should?
My darling, my dear,
How could you?

Did it get harder
Every single day
Like drops falling into a cup
Till it overflowed with words and feelings unsaid
Rage and anger unchecked
And things that you were not allowed to touch
Except with blood on your hands?

My darling, my dear
If you have an answer
Please, tell me!

How could you?

— The End —