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Nida Mahmoed Mar 2019
Let’s meet with my forlornness,
I have named mine forlornness as “Sunflower”,
We overlooked it at a coffee shop the previous evening,
When our eyes meet, it grew two wings and kept flew away,
And a seed of depression “Asparagus” budding deeper in my heart,
Sunflower and I, none had an idea to spell it right,
Yet you don't abandon it,
I keep a pocket word reference’
to name everybody's forlornness right,
But I am not able to smell the fragrance of their forlornness
and how could I? Because you can’t name the other’s forlornness,
I sometimes prefer to take a purple knife,
And cut the roots of “a Sunflower” forever and ever
but I wonder if I really killed the sunflower with a purple knife,
so there have any feelings left in me?
I wonder, there has anybody whose forlornness’
match with mine and our forlornness does not need of the purple knife’
to ****, but a need of the hug of affection to bud the roses of happiness’
within us!

By; Nida Mahmoed
I stand here;
outside my balcony
amidst darkness
in the company
of loneliness

My soul impertaburbly
trapped between forlornness
and peacefulness


Yin and Yang perhaps,

Forlorn because the soul,
wounded and damaged perniciously by loneliness..

And peace;
because the herb...
well the herb heals
to some extent

My vessel the arena

On a forbidden course
Yang battles Yin
the odds are in his favor
THC to Yin is like aconite to wolves;

And so he weakens with every hit

The melee ends
like it was destined to
tranquil and pure bliss prevail

At that moment;
the wind starts to sing her song

Calling, whistling to his lover
the king of the night
she whistles a beautiful song
that sounds of a gentle breeze
zephyr like pushing aside clouds that
guard his majesty;
grandiosely his image is revealed
in the nightlife

Observe they all gather under the nightsky;
selenophiles
far away from each other
all in different worlds
but it's this energy that coheres them here
together

The wind starts to sing
the song of halcyon,
ogling at the moon
in veneration and exhilaration
selenophiles danced away into the night.
Oh, I know not!
I see not, and master not!
Why t'is caprice - t'is tender whim, is unwilling
to unveil my soul, conquering it with
mounds and plates of rapturous
yet canonical attention. How I dread
such falsehood! Strong, strong falsehood!
What an inconsiderate urgency! A matter, matter of the heart -
as mighty as it probably is, of its own accord! How serious
t'is would be! I am suffrage; and akin to its vigour areth my laugh,
and joy - I would be hatred if none cameth to stop my pace;
my frosty haze; and t'is gruesome maze! Yes, I would but be,
in th' length of some furt'er days!
I shalt no more be of t'is delight, and clustered inside my gloom,
pressed to th' walls of dainty loom; from which I shalt never
be comely enough to be granted an escape.
How terrifying t'ose scenes areth, to me! A poet as I am,
unenviable is my littleness, and humility; to t'ose who glare with jealousy
at pangs of my laughter, and childlike demands - as how t'ey always
chastised during t'eir coincidental encounters. But I am blessed!
I am blessed by my words - and t'ese cheerful, yet unending poems -
as unlike t'em I am, ungrateful and vile beings, flocking to th' church
only for th' sake of brand-new dowry, and enforced blessings.
Murderers of peace! Sons and daughters of vice! But I am convinced
t'at virtue shalt forever tower over t'em; and in th' right time t'ey shalt
be pulled off t'eir horses, and unedifying pleasantry. And goodness
shalt t'en win! For truth never bears t'eir unfaithful boasts, just like
it hates t'eir dishonesty; which so insistingly frosts me
with atrocity within 'tis lungs, and so soon as doth it start to cling stronger -
abashed shalt I be! Incarcerated shalt be my front, and dutiful
countenance - in t'at gross conflagration with secular flatness,
hesitations, and worldly doubts, in which yon grotesque salutation, corroborating
'tis assailed countenance, gouty and drained by rightful mockery;
comes but to avenge my love, my wondrous love -
which yesterday was dazzling and dripping fast
but contentiously, like a ripe cherry. Like a small burst of wine
craved by scholarly epicures, t'is feeling but anonymously grips
my lips, trembles my heart, and distracts my limbs;
should I be to think of thee, I shan't but be away
from t'is nauseatedness, of regrets, again! My thee, my thee,
areth thou truly gazing at me from afar? With fascination in thy stares,
wilt thou bestow me such destiny I hath been so desirous of - my dear?
And with thy serene, bulbous eyes - t'at sea of blackness
basked in marred turmoil - ah, a sign but of peace after such fire! - wilt thou
mould thy mind, thy stony mind, like a black-painted rose,
to throw at my being, just one, voluntary glance?
I am but anxious, my love, how I shake all over
with unreturned passion like t'is, my blood is circling
in distorting, yet irrepressible agitation.
How I wish t'at thou could be here, and rendereth me safe, in solely
but thy arms, my love! And shalt thou be my giddy knight - I entreat!
In my unmothered dreams, and t'eir precocious brambles - on t'ose journeys
of loom, doth I fear not, for thou shalt be t'ere to mirthfully comfort me.
And off shalt I fly again, to greet th' thoughtful morning!
But ought I to leaveth my dreams now; for thou canst be here to celebrate
t'is snowy day, and lift me onto triumph! And how I wisheth to cast away
t'is imprisonment, how I longeth for but thee here - just thee, remember t'at,
o but hark to my swift whisper, t'at calls only for thy name, my love!
How aggravated, and corrupted my conscience wilt be -
within th' membranes of my brain; t'eir hardship is severed by thy unpresence.
My love, o my restrained - single love, t'is ode that lights my soul
shalt illuminate thine; and 'tis long words - threads woven along
an abstracted lullaby, and vanquished by silent accusations, from thy, thy mouth!
A well t'at is perilous in its standing - standing like a torch, unruptured
albeit neglected, innocent in 'tis acute forlornness. Poor misery!
Hark, hark, my love - how t'ose dames, irresolute in t'eir volatility, and
charms of miraculous beauty - but tumultous inside, entranced by fear
of losing which, as so graciously raved and ranted all over th' year!
Th' dreary years - which th' above phrase caused me to be well-reminded,
and duly recall how t'eir sickening remorse tossed me around; and decreed
my jests of dread, sickness, and disdain - surges, and waves of animosity
wert but all about me. But how they areth happening again! Amongst th' snow -
running about as t'ey art, t'ose heartless, indignant creatures -
blind to th' tenderness of nature, bland and untouched by its shrieks, and
flickering toil! How I wish to save it, but incapable as I am - a minuscule shadow
of early womanhood t'at I own, I choose to stay distant,
and pray for t'eir impossible atonement, somehow, before t'ey entereth
t'eir silent graves. How t'ose ghosts of malice areth in no way acquainted
with th' woes of th' churchyard, and th' grimness of death - I declare!
How unafraid t'ey are, sacrificing t'is coherent life for such courses
of abomination. Victories upon th' misery of others,
dances to mourning songs, how evil! But I wish for t'eir salvation,
for t'ey art unable to even salve t'eir poor selves. I shalt be fervent
in my generosity, for 'tis th' most rewarding part of humanity;
I shalt be but a faithful servant to my innocuous nature. I adoreth my nature
just the way 'tis, and I shalt build its madly-scarred way back; with tons
of brightness, care, and hearty bliss! Yes, my love, my bliss - which inhabits
th' entire space of my maturity and unmolested passion. Inapprehensible as it is,
I am but to win its grace, and t'erefore thee - just as I hath so ardently dreameth of -
as heretofore, and shalt thou but be saluted and fended for
by my, my sincere and unbinding, affection.
Titanic-Lover Aug 2013
If you didn't know my story,but saw me in a book,
You'd read my name and wonder,then take a second look.
A shadow of my former beauty,I've been ruined by many years,
The things that have happened to me always bring on many tears.
I do not hide my sadness,for it is fresh and always there,
As I wait here so very lonely in my sunless Atlantic lair.
My poor,proud body is rotting away,there is nothing I can do,
Except hope maybe one day,equality will be given me too.
I recall a sadness filled day within my lonely dark,
When a plastic cup came floating down,and on my tomb left a mark.
That was one of many times I would give up and cry,
For human cruelness hurt me so,I got this rather than 'good-bye'.
I do not hardly recognize myself anymore,I say it not to be vain,
I say it with truth and exactness,to my heart welled up with pain.
Some people truly love me,for them I'm truly greatful,
Others regard me as a rusty ship with eyes that bespeak hateful.
I cannot help what happened to me,they just don't understand,
I once had a heart adventurous that would lead a career grand.
My hopeful life was ended in the year of 1912,
And my dreams,visions and pride-filled youth to the bottom delved.
I was told that youth and beauty would get me far in life,
And with these assets I proudly boasted,I knew nonesuch called 'strife'.
Throughout the tumble and crash of waves rode my lean body's length,
I reveled many times over in my satisfying,thrilling strength!
****
On the evening tide of the 14th,I saw the iceberg  true,
A handsome,glittering,ethreal prince,what was a lonely girl to do?
I rushed as fast as could be allowed to greet this glacier born one,
Eager to introduce myself and rid forlornness akin to a ton.
But when I came up closer,my heart he did stab,
With that glittering,icy spellbinding look,'twas my start of being sad.
He tore into my body,bringing unsurmountable pain,
What was the purpose of such cruelty,what could he possibly gain?
And on the night my life ended,I travelled my beloved sea no longer,
Death so young,in such a way,could life be any wronger?
I hoped so much I would not perish in a life that did just start,
Yet hopes were banished by the truths of a rapidly weakening heart.
I tried to wait as long as I could to save my passengers dear,
But the ending for so many of us was soon becoming near.
I didn't want to say farewell to the things I did love so,
And yet time was running short,and I wanted them to know:

Olympic,my lovely sister,I hope your life is a promise true,
Of many voyeurs across oceans wide,a charmer you are too.
Treasure the sun's bounty that warms the evening's chill,
And know throughout your entire life,my love is with you still.
Enjoy the satisfaction of your beauty and strength even when in dock you sit,
For a day may come anytime,and a single moment end it.
Show the Captain you are bold-bold,lovely and free,
But do not toss caution in the spray thrown off the sea.
I trust you not to be lonely in travels near and far,
For my ghost is always with you,just look up at a star.
When days come to you and a disconsolate thought you may think,
Remember the unconditioning love of a sister who'd "Never Sink".
Remember my love at morning,remember it at night,
Remember it these coming days I will no longer be in your sight.
I love you,Fair Olympic,in wordless,heartfelt ways,
Your memory I shall treasure in my saddened,sunless days.

I rest on a sandy sea bottom,amongst accoutrements of life,
From an unforgettable day when I learned the meaning of strife.
The earth has covered the stab the iceberg in my side did maim,
But despite that all,the hurt in my heart did stain.
I relive in over and over,wishing it were just a dream,
Yet awaken to the truths to know,my broken funnels have no more steam.
The way I landed in this grave,I look like I shall sail ahead,
But,that is all a fantasy,my once-strong body is dead.
It will not go anywhere,today or ever again,
I am helpless to the trash that falls upon me from heartless men.
The ship that sail above me hold people bright and gay,
Who do not know the sorrows that were on a 15th of April day.
They sail on to their destination,thinking nothing of me,
Who haunts the very waves they ride on my beloved Atlantic sea.
They dream of their days ahead,cheerful and free of plight,
Disregarding any notion of a nightmarish Hadean night.
They dance,they revel and throw trash over the side,
Where it floats down eventually onto the Ocean's Queen who has died.
They do not know of an iceberg with a sinister,laughing gaze,
And who pleasured in so knowing he ended my happy days.
They do not know of terror,of the ocean flooding ones' heart,
They do not know suffering for a ship breaking apart.
They do not know the agony of bading goodbye,
To the sunshine and a beloved sister who would never,ever lie.
They stand aboard a breezy bow,above the white waves foam,
Knowing soon,within a few days,they will be going home.
They seem to forget I belonged somewhere once too,
My home wasn't supposed to be an ocean floor,far from the sky's blue.
They do not know I've loved,they do not know I've cared,
They do not know the pain in my heart,that in scrapping,my sister wasn't spared.
They are the people who have this phrase float off their lips:
"Olympic and Titanic ,they are little more than ships!"
You humans claim you hold a bond to those you love so dear,
How different is it for me,I ask,with my sister built so near?
There is so much out there for those to remember me,
But my poor,sweet sister is forgotten,plunged into ocean history.
When you recall me,try to think of her too,
Bring her alive within your heart,I leave it up to you.
Years have passed,times have changed,though down here it's the same,
I am still the great Titanic,though my bow no longer says my name.
Some people who have discovered me have been respecting and kind,
I shall never give up my secrets,but their visits I don't mind.
Then,there are others,who ravage me to know,
They steal my finery,what is rightly mine;how can they hurt me so?
Although I do not mind some visits,I am now accustomed to the dark,
For the lights they shine upon me are so horribly bold and stark.
I am now part of this sea for one-hundred and one years strong,
All stemming from an April night when the most horrible went wrong.
The rust that drapes off me,some people say are like tears,
And,partially they are,my dearest friend,of the sorrows of many years.
The ocean floor is somber,the ocean floor is cold,
All the more unpleasant for a girl who's growing old.
My song it is of truth,to show that life is not a game,
But,treasure it every minute you can,all the very same.
It may be pleasant,it may be sorrow,
But,hold close the day you live in,think not heavily of a 'morrow.
I thought I'd have a tomorrow too,as I sit here in my grave,
I had a tomorrow,yes indeed,but not in a life-filled way.
I rest under these bitter waves,a melancholy heart is mine,
A shadow of my former beauty,a ghost of the White Star Line.
In the Aprils of today,on the dancing surf above,
My soul rises up to haunt the sea I love.
My soul is not marred by tears,fright and rust,
Whole and in perfection,before my death it's just.
At the latitude and longitude of that long ago day,
I have stopped many a vessel,so,remember me that may.
The scrapping of my sister,the sinking of me,
Life ended none too kind for both Queens of the Sea.
Remember us,gay vacationers,as you gaze up at a cloud,
For Titanic and Olympic,death 'twas not proud.....

I rest under these bitter waves,
A melancholy heart is mine,
We are remnants of our former beauty,
We are the ghosts of the
WHITE STAR LINE...
This poem is dedicated to my beloved Royal Mail Steamship 'Titanic',and her more forgotten,yet beautiful sister,Olympic. Never shall the sea be host to two finer ocean liners.
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Tis only mid day
It's usually midnight, when I feeleth this pain;
The times art getting earlier now, for mine heart to decay
I feeleth mine alma aleteo in an ending life parade.

And it's hitting me hard now, I telleth it to go away
Though in the morning I shalt waketh, mine thought's frayed
And as I prayeth to God, to breaketh this nightmare today
The forlornness still wilt be there, as I feeleth mine smile fade.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Harshit Tiwari Nov 2014
The desolation of dark
Has caught me in its snare
Making me just inert
Who has nothing left to care

Now walking on the streets
I keep following my shadow
Thinking about the sham grounds
which have made me so shallow

Ample amount of love
Is exactly what I am lacking
And no one by my side
To convince me "Yes I am backing"

Solitary in my misfortune
I am seeking for some tending
But got just hebetude
Which made me more offending

Now that I have no felicity and
Nothing left to lend
I am penning down the sorrows
And waiting for the end
Brooksimus Aug 2012
To see a dwindling tree in the forest
is not to know its bleakest
but to know its earnest

The decay is shown outwardly as despair
by means of deforested ensnare
Forlornness seems its welfare

Externally the forest is declared undeserved eternally
Beauty is unsecured directly
And hope comes seldomly

Whole,
is a forest,
alive as a unit
Spaciousness is created with the tree's covet
Restored are the longing of nutrients
in a sacrificed facet
erin haggerty Apr 2011
this is the dwelling where wind is a bell and a beacon for death.
where youthful pursuit is punctured by family names or famine of fortune.
boys in bands buoyed by Onos and shared women.
lawyer fathers and social ***** mothers whose children are forbidden to **** up.
one street reserved and smothered by talking townsmen
whose belligerent brides keep tabs on their fellow middle-aged malicious
minded low-lifes
engorged in gossip are the parading fat men who rise early to feed off ones business capital tragedies
****** shortcomings of the stuck and single prey off tweens tweeting of body glitter and b-cups.
clique chick coquettes play house with their shiny image seeking male counterparts
who sing songs of their leather faced lady friends with plastic claws they now admit they would never marry
antagonizing cute couples secretly copulating with former loves' lust
only to mingle with conspirators molding to dominant thought
once a waitress always a waitress
with overdrawn bragging rights and unemployment checks
serving snobs like themselves who sip savignon
self-righteous polo popping perverts accompanying their prized play things
who join the charles river emigrants and stale french pastries
scouting the waste colored palace of prejudice.
now blades of winter draw months of blue blood
bringing forth frozen thoughts slowly dripping onto thawing skin.
another warm summer sun  forthcoming
foreshadowed by this wind-chafing forlornness.
though i will fall in love again
and bridge rats will always be kings.
Zy Marquiez Nov 2010
Twisted shadows creep forth...
morphing into…
desolation

cries seep through
my skin

thereafter, darkness
engulfs me…
consumes me…
devours my inner being, my essence

thence...
a dark spiritual cocoon...
tainted
revamps that which
was to be righteous
into something more…
perfect

morphed into forlornness
I awake, galvanized

only tenebrous ambitions
are left

malevolent perfection is amongst
Denise G Jun 2013
A weakening speck
Unknowingly sinking, tottering, diminishing into an undiscoverable wreck
Much to master
Much to obtain
Infinite time, unable to restrain
Stuck  in a rusted fetter
Rewriting that one unspoken letter
Inventing and destroying
And doing the same thing over and over
A constant cycle of forlornness
The understanding of perception is ideal
Something you and I can't even begin to find real
Finding out the way things tick is mind blowing
No, no wait incomprehensible.
So here you are
Exactly where you were
And where you will always be
Unless you see
That you aren't a crumbling speck you were  meant to abide by
More like something precious set aside.
Ghazal Oct 2014
Oh Winter, I welcome you,
Your nippy air, your kindling hues,
And the tint they cast on my moods,
Oh Winter, if only you knew,

The simple pleasures your arrival bears-
The precious sleep that only your lullaby brings,
The sudden love for rich food you excite,
And so many other little 'winter things'-

Things like colourful gloves and socks,
And poor unsheltered, chilled pink nose tip,
And age-old pseudo-smoking out cold breath,
And cherry/strawberry/cocoa balms to coat the lips,

Doodling a beloved's name on a frosted window,
And tugging blanket under toes in bed, snugly,
The evening nap feeling more easing than ever,
Followed by heavenly gulps of warm milky coffee.

Oh Winter, despite, as the time of
Separation and Forlornness being ill-famed,
Each time you visit, you touch my senses
And leave them pleasantly tingling and inflamed.

For summer may be bright, sunny and sky-blue,
But you can be an enticing dark, a passionate maroon,
You mischievous cupid hiding under the garb of cosiness,
Refilling hearts with yearnings anew.

Welcome, dear Season of Romance,
Time to commence the routine all over again,
Of you- enthusing me with deep cold-warm sentiments,
And me- writing poems celebrating this eternal game.
Martin Illy Dec 2013
I trudge through the darkness of uncertainty
beneath my feet lay remnants of my dirt past
a breeze of forlornness rushes over me
blanketing my body in nothing but downcast

My eyes squint for hints of sunlight
rays from the golden colossal sphere
that would temporarily take away
the coldness of this fear

Bumping into rough barks of trees,
that scrape away the thin layers of my skin
becomes a norm, a regularity
because pain to me only exists within

Whatever this place is
it is everything painful and sad
and the hurt intensifies
after every tread

but still I move forward
I march head-first into the unknown
hoping, and wishing that one day
all this darkness will be overthrown
brandon nagley Jul 2015
i

I feeleth a calming bereavement, from mine own heart's dying
I mosey the coffin carousel of this lonesomeness artistic torture;
I dig with nail's into mine isolation box, kicking stones, lifting rock's, and as the nightshine seepeth, I close mine eyes, weepeth.

ii

Yet this grave shalt not be mine end, though an amour is not there, for forlornness hath becometh a beloved best of friends;
Thither the protection of the gloom, I shalt burst on through, breaking into the rainbow that shalt streameth to mine beauty.

iii

Mine dying shalt reneweth me, the tomb shalt not subdue me
The copse forest shalt enticeth me, as I swayeth and flyeth asunder from mine carcass, with none asunder to holdeth back mine natural capabilities, as all senses shalt be enhanced.

iv

The wind wilt guideth me wherein others couldst not, mine creator to showeth me mine lifespan plot, to continue to loveth, even whilst the groan's that cometh near, mine vision, and view's to be glorious, this freedom of mine eternal entity alive, no fear's.

v

It shalt be a triumphant of all life's, wherein I shalt haveth a wife, to comfort me, thus all to be alright, as guardian's to me shalt be an insight, an insight of mineself deeply and the spiritual realm that shalt engulf me, and swaddle me so peacefully in awakening.





©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
brandon nagley Jun 2015
That ****** burglar called lonesomeness hath reared its larcenist head, its cometh to greet me, beat me. Abuse me again!!! That bandit forlornness hath ticked in mine brain, click clock, tick tock, driving me to mine veins.

It rolleth me up
And spitteth me out
Like a piece of defecation
Maketh me doubt.
It syringes mine sheath
It wraps me in dung
Maketh me sleep
In slumber and mud
Maby I'll just walk
And dissapear
Draweth to heaven I do
As heaven bringeth me near..
December Aug 2013
early morning light
creeping through blinds

illuminated dust
dancing alongside shadows

your eyes wake
to the whispers of the clouds
making way for the sun
to put on its crown

and your eyebrows crease
as if asking the world
of its forlornness, and why is it so
when all-encompassing beauty is in its grasp

your eyes close again
and you try to listen

but the world keeps quiet
and you sigh to yourself

because how selfish it is
to ask a question
you can’t even bring yourself to answer
The Noose May 2014
The forlornness
That lies dormant
Violently wakes
As I stumble on
Images and words
That remind me
Of what eluded my grasp
In the year hope withered

Am I disgruntled
Because I am or
Because I am not
Unanswered questions  
Inhabit my psyche
At last thoroughly consumed
By world that will never
Be mine to take.
so much depends on the fun and laughter,
for the unending joy that keeps on rewinding
so much depends on ambition and zeal,
with a tad bit of pain and agony in between
so much depends on destiny and time,
the entwined distance that yearns to be covered
in between I stand
as I unwind those mesmerising threads
that surrounded me for  what seemed like an eon,
it melts my heart,
every thread is like a story of art,                         
I stand and stare,
It engulfs me with happiness so rare
Even with sublime forlornness everywhere,
I know for sure
times gone by are never going to return
Yet what is life without bundle of desires
for it's the magical memories that can keep you alive
Ken Dimaranan Aug 2014
End
From where I stand I see nobody
but these papers forged by death itself
I quiver in terror
silence filled the room, I am deafened

I hold onto what is made by death
I walk, breath and stare at myself
thru the eyes of what sees everything
I sighed...

Voices in my head everywhere
thief of my slumber every night
sleepless I become, awake in the dark
to stare at nothingness, a habit it become

Faith matters no more
satiated by despair my desire is
the rim awaits me
I see hope in the irony

I gambled despite perilousness
salvation I begged for, save me I ought
something happened not
devoured by forlornness

A fool I am to believe
deceived by the majority
the rim awaits me
I hold, I think not, I wear…period
hfallahpour Apr 2017
Never abandon the smile on your face
In your smile there is a kind of grace
people acquire life_long immunity to forlornness
once they have seen your smile and happiness
brandon nagley Jun 2015
That western desert forlornness
Hitting me
Like fog rolling over London's darkest night!!!
Rissa Timmons Sep 2020
cerebral particles emanate as dreams vaporize, vile creatures roam untethered, a blinding flicker, the world crumbles.
firmly committed beliefs diminish into oblivion as the absence of hope provokes unprecedented forlornness, setting in motion a societal restructuring into mass hysteria and perpetual insanity. The end precedes anew, humanity falls silent,
as nefarious roisterings echo amidst the surroundings.
Ces Sep 2020
Forlornness that wraps the core of my being
Still, relished by a heart that aches to write
Alone, in subdued pain, but accepting
I feel my body and all its agonies
Never wanting this moment to end
In spite of it all, a gentle smile
I find solace in every breath
And in this tender loneliness.
Andrew Guzaldo c Dec 2017
“When we fall in love we think
We know all,
Then we know not where love is,
Nor where to call,

Yes we must be able to read the card,
The Mysteries that lay beneath,
Romance and what mystical behavior may,
Be beneath the mystic cartomancy read,

When one is in love,
That of the mystic trance one may
Have captured from the beauty within,
Their eyes mind heart and soul,                    

There is nothing only romance,
We think love could never hurt us,
And would always make one strong,
But after we fall in love,

All we thought was wrong we think,
They will always be there anytime
You will feel a need for them,
But I was only there to give you,
Treasures not that were mine,

I waited for your calls of affections
But night after night,
All I received was rejections,
I did all I could think of,

To make you see how I felt  
Did everything you asked of me,
I thought our love would not melt,
I took your first reactions as a sign,

I thought you were the one,
I would spend my life with this miss,
Now I recapture the thought of you,
What once was is now an anamnesis,

In my dreams I see and touch your face,
As I wait my dreams surround you,
I am now left in forlornness called LOVE,
These CARDS I was grimily DEALT”
Mohd Arshad May 2018
When mother dies
The solitary fawn runs back and forth
In quest of water in the desert
And gets a few droplets
At some stony spots
Still thirst isn't
quenched
When mother dies
The fledgling flutters in its dark cave
And peeps out then and again
To see her with grains
But catch the air
And falls back
Famished
When mother dies
The joys leak in the sieve of forlornness
Smiles wear rust and rarely bubble
Each moment is a long hunt
To find out the rhythm
Of truly musical
Life
LunaThads Apr 2020
I guess I’m still
On the edge
Between deleting our memories
Or missing your energies
I know
I’m still not sober
Its the only thing
I haven't cross-over

It triggers me at night
This emptiness in my heart
And the long cold dark sight
Reminds me that killer of
Forlornness
And my name stick
To its meaning
Such a lonely name its beaming

Like the moon
Missing the sun and the stars
Never together
Always passing over
But never together

— The End —