"fancily" poems
a casket my bed, my morbid rest
I am dead
I am blessed
death; a darkness that roams fancily dressed.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 2:38 AM UTC
Red headed
fancily dressed
All of eight
four feet tall
I was all of six.
when at ten years
She emigrated
to Windermere
Now she's my next door neighbor
I emigrated too
After eighty years
We're both in Windermere
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
fancily dressed we stride
on main street down the barely lit
side streets to get to
The view, on the edge of town,
west of here and now,
where sunsets are gathered
into red and sorrows.
Or we live across the tracks,
where fancy is just washed and patched up,
still,
we stride with the same
destination
in mind and soul.
Futures are still written
only with pen and papers, any
rich man or pauper shares.
May we someday, be equal.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
I still remember the day
sitting idle in the lab mundane
Smell of acid although causing pain
But i was still taking in,
like a toxic gain.
And then she came in
like a soft gush of wind
sat beside me
saw me all strained.
I asked
why people leave
without giving reason
and I poured my heart out
like a kid with a toy broken.
I was inconsolable
as if I saw death of a closed one.
and that closed one was my heart
deep inside it was fallen apart.
And then she told
me a hard truth
how she loved her mom
who left part way
without witnessing her triumphs
her chosen love and all fame .
How she all wanted was to gift her a saree
and take her to a restaurant to feast fancily.
I looked into her eyes
and she into mine
we both lost a part
of our hearts
and we together washed away
the pains filled deep inside
I was crying over a lost love
and she over a lost soul
and I wondered
whether my pain was even worth despair
we walked through our pain
while finding life all regained.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
In the halls of my mind I walk as I ponder,
Over things that trouble me, big and small,
Over things that tear me asunder;
As though I was made for this toll.
And I burn and melt and boil with these:
The fancily named; dyslexia and schizophrenia,
Even the owned one; Parkinson's disease,
For they make me succumb to insomnia.
And as I struggle with this jumble
Of emotion and thought that conflict within,
In and out of reality I stumble
And only stop when I'm at my mind's end.
Will my intellect stay firm or will it crumble?
My sanity is a thing I always question and contemplate.
"It'll all be fine!" To myself I mumble.
Hopefully, one day, I will be out of this state!
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 5:24 AM UTC
That was easy
wasn't it?
no stress
less mess
than usual.
Some days like today or
really any Tuesday can
be fun
finish work
a walk in the autumn sun
a trip to the park and as it
gets dark
amble on home
to a hot cup of cocoa.
I know as you do
that's life almost a
walk through
some like to run through
I never do.
And when it's like this
a slight kiss
from her ladyship
makes me trip the
quite fantastic.
Then
to try as I might
I can't stop
I must write.
Adieu
addictions are and will always be
the ink of the pen and the words
within me
more than simply understandable
easily readable too
I seldom do fancily worded verses
I write plainly and at times
painfully so.
That was easy
definitely
and definitely
time now
to go.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC