Yenson Jul 26
The realisation dawned with the gentle swathe of a cool summer morning

Fond thoughts of you and those warm images no longer fills my mind

Memories of yester years and the yearnings of tender lingering swooning

That once rode on every beat of my pacing heart now seem hard to find

Whilst in the depth of me a silence carries a lament chilling with mourning



The years have their stories to tell but stilted performances is not living

Neither are the smiles that hide behind deceits so cold and unkind

We walked the jagged path but your voice sought kinship with axes striking

And when you offered water your eyes showed you had gone blind

Unable to see a soul holding for you nothing but a brimful of loving



Someday somewhere the brightness dims and chimes will be ringing

The late harvest will arrive floating in a wake of unforgiving wind

In your palm the rosy red apple of the past is now bitter and shrivelling

Its a tale told a million times so lets know the scribe not be fined

While the sages ask, what price is truth and harmony for a state of being




Copyright LaurenceA. 4th June 2018. All right reserved
Johnny Noiπ Aug 3
In Gothic architecture,                          light is considered
                       the most beautiful revelation of God;
                    Beauty is a characteristic of an animal,
                    an idea, object, person or place that provides
an experience of pleasure,                           or satisfaction;
                    Beauty is studied             as part of aesthetics,          [culture],
                    social psychology, philosophy & sociology;
An ideal beauty is an entity;
admired; possessing features
widely attributed                            to beauty in a particular culture;
       to perfection:

Ugliness [commonness],  [          ]  commonly                          co­nsidered to be the opposite
                  of beauty,
annihilated as an intellectual concept,
                                  no longer exists;

      The experience of beauty is     often
involved in     an interpretation of some
entity     [being in balance & harmony];
                  the experience of nature may                lead to feelings
of attraction                                               & emotional well-being;
                                    Because perception is a purely   subjective experience,
                                    it was once said that beauty
                                   is in the eye of the beholder;                  
                                    a­ sentiment long debunked;

There is evidence                               that hypothetical       perceptions
of beauty involve                               determining
aspects of                      things,                              peop­le & landscapes;
                            beauty is typically found
in situations likely to enhance the survival
of the perceiving collection
        [of chromosomes]
Shadows are getting longer

Shadows are getting longer
Black puddles at bases
Become searching fingers
Cracks widen, they emerge,
Step out from behind.
They wait in silence
For the setting of the sun
When they will merge
With the velvet of night
Like closing curtains

"Can you help me?"
She said, looking at me.
"I have had enough"
I did not respond.
"It is you, isn't it?"
I remained silent.
The rest home staff
Were busy serving meals.
They said, "Please wait,
Dear. Someone
Will be with you
Soon"

Harald Edwin Pfeffer 23-7-2018
Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
OUR VOICES WOULD BE HEARD
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
whatisthisplanet Mar 2016
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they wept, tearing out their hair
and tossed it in to the ocean
turning into sea weeds.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who hid themselves in caves, till they passed
their skin growing pale and lifeless
till feathers emerged from their hands.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who mutilated their legs
and scarred their feet
so they would no longer be human.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
the creatures wailed as loud as they could,
screeching noises, ringing
sounded only like bells to men.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they didn't see beauty or sin
instead,
walking vessels
and a prize to win.
harpies are described as repulsive half-bird half-human creatures that represented evil. however in early greek mythology, hesiod described them as beautiful winged maidens.
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cigarettes as I would rosmerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Dhia Awanis Oct 2016
Never thought I'd listen to Kodaline,
as I walk down the Memory Lane

Oh, Clementine
For when I was with you I've always been sane
You said you'd be at nine
But since you were no longer mine,
I spent all night with you in my mind
And glasses of champagne on my hand

Oh, Clementine
It's hard for me even to draw a line
Letting you go costs insanity I can't define
With countless loss of dopamine
But I guess if you're fine
I'd do my best not to intervene

Oh, Clementine
February 14th you're no longer my Valentine
Driving through the sreets I ran out of gasoline
But the time is due and I've come to the deadline
While sighing 'I'm done'
I know it's time for me to be gone
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