"pane" poems
A poem falls short; I'd like, instead
to draw a single line from me to you
and watch it curl into a word
so beautiful it's still unsaid –
or press paper to the window pane
so that the day might saturate
a note that brightly warms your hands,
spills birdsong from imagined trees
and buzzes like fat bumblebees,
but I am bound by language, love; I can't.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no--
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.
That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter--
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.
And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.
Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.
39.3k
Mujhe tumse pyar hai,
Ye dil tere liye hi beqarar hai,
Jab nind se band ** jati meri aankhen,
Es khubsurat sapno me bas tera hi intezar hai,
Tujhe dekhlu ek bar
yahi chahat hai meri,
Tujhse pyar karun ji'h bhar ke
yahi khawaish hai meri,
Mang lu tujhe main rab se
Kyoki tum to zindagi ** meri,
Kitna hasin banaya tujhe us rab ne,
** gya *** deewana tera
dekha tujhe maine jab se,
Chand sa pyara chehra tera,
Pariyon si teri muskan,
na jana mujhe chhodkar,
o hamsafar ban ke meri jaan,
Es suni si duniya ko meri hasin bna do,
Ban ke meri zindagi mujhe apna bna lo,
Kah do ekbar mujhe ki
"main tumse pyar karti ***
Har waqt teri yaadon me kho kar
"main tera hi intezar karti ***
Luta denge apni sari khusi tujhpar,
Main pyar karta *** tujhse yakin kar mujhpar,
Yakin kar mujhpar.....
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
629
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane—
She stopped—a Traveller’s privilege—for Rest—
And there upon
I gazed—as at a stranger—
The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass—upon—
But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine—for not a Foot—nor Hand—
Nor Formula—had she—
But like a Head—a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away—
Did independent, Amber—
Sustain her in the sky—
Or like a Stemless Flower—
Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations—
Than bind Philosopher—
No Hunger—had she—nor an Inn—
Her Toilette—to suffice—
Nor Avocation—nor Concern
For little Mysteries
As harass us—like Life—and Death—
And Afterwards—or Nay—
But seemed engrossed to Absolute—
With shining—and the Sky—
The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise—
She vaulted out of Gaze—
And next—I met her on a Cloud—
Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road—
Or its advantage—Blue—
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He has taken rake and shovel in hand,
Taking advantage of the light,
Rare in these climes this time of year,
Still welcomed, though rendered severe
By the sun's reluctant trudge above the horizon,
The type which, sauntering through a window pane
(Falling upon a crucifix anchored above a cradle
Or some ancient, gilded frame
Containing a photo of some grandparent's wedding day,
Exploding into full undifferentiated diffusion)
May possess a dram of warmth, albeit resigned, nostalgic
A bittersweet reminder of what has gone by
(And in the shade, the air is filled
With the portentous chill of what lies a few months hence)
But there nonetheless as he tends to those final farewells
From the trees bowing to December's inevitability,
The droppings not the Pollock-esque bursts of October
(Those having been collected and consigned
To the normal corner of the back lot)
But dreary brown-hued things, not welcomed by eye nor heart,
Simply corralled perfunctorily and dismissed.
One could contend that such activity is unnecessary,
The mere vanity of all endeavor,
As the snow will come soon, and steady as well,
Performing the seasonal, cyclical function in its own time,
But he soldiers on nonetheless, a unseen one-act nearly-farce,
Painstakingly raking and bending and scraping
To leave his patch of green uncovered for a little while
Until the locking time comes to seal the earth's secrets once more,
To be revealed to those
Who shall receive the teasing ministrations
Of the fickle, fitful March equinox.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
Tujhe pane ki khushi gam me badal ***
Tujhe dekh gairo ke saath
Teri yaad mujhe chhod chali ***
Rula ke mujhko ai bewafa
Tum kaise un palo ko bhul ***
Adhuri hain duniya pyar bina,
Adhure hain hum tumhare bina,
Bata ke roya "MANISH "bhi apne dil ka hal,
Chale gye wo chhodkar ek adhura sawal,
Kaise jiyenge hum tumhare bina,
Tere bina ye zindagi ko kya jina,
Udas hain har lamha yahi sochkar,
Kyon achanak chale gye mujhse mu'h morkar,
Ye dhai akshar pyar ka kitno ko rula diya,
Kisi ko kavi to kisi ko shayar bna diya,
Kaise sahun ye dard teri judai ka,
Kaise kate ye alam meri tanhai ka,
yaad aayenge hum tumhe har pal,
Tere bina ai zindagi kaise kate ye pal,
Ye pal
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
Age and Grace
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.
Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.
The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..
She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.
She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.
Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Beyond the sea, a white rose stands
outside a vase, away from hands.
Too pretty for a picture frame,
a large bouquet, or window pane.
Still growing, life is hers to gain:
the warmth of sun, the cooling rain,
the water droplets, oxygen;
beauty will flourish best with space.
A trademark warmth she wears so well
like sun rays on a daffodil.
She laughs like shamrock by the well,
as infectious as a breeze among bluebells.
I see the child inside your cries of joy, behind your smiles at boys.
Beneath the skies, above the noise.
You breathe in life, and it's all yours.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
Just another raindrop in the rain
Just another person
lifeless and plain.
Just another drag to take me away.
Just another patient awaiting cancer and pain.
Just another weight to bare
Just another "I don't care"...
Just another wasted life
I can't tell you what it is
Impatiently waiting for the floor to fall from under my feet
constantly worry
about incomplete
can't compete
everything is
obsolete.
Just another raindrop in the rain
it trickles down the window pane
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’
I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’
Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.
I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.
I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?
The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.
Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.
The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the ***** of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard’s tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!
16.7k
juda hoke tujhse tut jayenge hum ,
Tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum,
O hawa tham ja jara ye to bata de
Kab ek- dusare se mil payenge hum ,
tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum....
zindagi ki dor se tum bandhe **
Bata do sanam tum mujhse kyon ruth gye **
Tujhe pane ke liye har dukh sah jayenge hum
Tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum. .. ...
Khud me dhundhane laga hoon tujhe ,
Jaan se bhi jyada chahne laga hoon tujhe
Tu meri kismat me nahi to kya hua,
Teri yaadon ko hi apna zindagi banayenge hum ,
Tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum. .. ..
Rone lagi kalme bhi meri teri yaadon ko likh
kar,
Hansne laga jawana bhi mere dil ki baat soon
kar,
Najane tujhe pane ke liye kitne thokar
khayenge hum,
Tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum. ..
tujhe to meri yaad bhi na aai ,
kaise katengi ye meri tanhai,
tanha yu akela es duniya se chale jayenge
hum,
Tere bina o sanam ab mar jayenge hum. .
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
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raindrops bounce on
the window frame,
reminding me we're
in this room together.
your words are raindrops
playing on my metal frame -
nowness splatters
into existence -
you remind me that
someday we won't be
in this room together.
you repeat endlessly
between my ears -
I sing along to my favorite song -
I want to tell you
all the lyrics
but my words fall
like raindrops.
unspoken are my
tear-shaped raindrops -
their tremors taunt me
on this side of the pane -
you remind me that
we were always
in the wrong
alternate universe.
the raindrops refract
your light,
dissolving a warm glow
into the evening fog,
you remind me that you're gone.
maybe the rain stopped,
but the silence is only
the absence of your voice,
the rest is just noise.
I think of our raindrops now -
smiling -
knowing that you have an umbrella.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Tum hi to **
Jo har roj meri sapno mein aati **
Baith us pyare chand ke paas
jo Pyar ka geet sunati **
Muskurate huye dekh tum
mujhe jo etna bebas kar jati **
Jab main tumhe pane ki koshish karta hoon,
Najane kyon tum mujhe chhod us ghane badalo me chhup jati **
Us ghane badalo me chhup jati **
mera dil bhi rota hai
meri aankhen bhi roti hai
jab tum en suni nazaron se ojhal ** jati **
** jata *** mai ek ansuni paheli,
Jab tum mujhe yu mitthe dard dekar jati **
Kash! main bhi es sitara hota,
Najdik se dekhne ka bhi haq hamara hota,
jab ** jati andheri raat
tere saath ka wo pal bhi hamara hota,
Kyon tum sirf kuchh palo ke lia hi aati **
baith us pyare chand ke paas jo pyar ka geet sunati **
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
I exhale
& watch
As you go
The essence of me
Caught on the window
A constellation
Of condensation
& I trace your name
Bleeding the meaning
Of true window pane
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Judai
~~♥~~
Suno jaana
Mujhse kai logo ne pucha hai.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
Me kehta hu
Zara thehro batata hu.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
judai aisi hoti hai.
bhari mehfil me bhi
kahi tanhai me kho jana.
Kirchi kirchi kanch ke
tukdo sa bikhar jana.
Or un tukdo me ek hi bas
ek hi chehere ka nazar ana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Simatna chah kar bhi
khud se na simat pana.
Har kisi ke samne
muskan chehre par le ana.
Dard saare chupane ki
ek nakaam si be-matlab
koshish kiye jaana.
khud apne aap se us
lamhat me nafrat si ** jana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Mulakato ke naam pe
milna u to kai logo se
har chehre me usi bas Usi chehre ko dhundte jaana.
Naam uska apne
lab pe saja lena.
Us ki kahi koi baat
yaad ane par rote hue thahake mar ke hans dena.
Or hans kar ke ek dam se khamosh ** jaana.
Naam uska le kar gir padna.
kai raato tak aansuo se
takiyo ko bigo dena.
Duao me usi ke liye
haatho ko failana.
khwabo or khayalo me
usi se wasta rakhna.
na mil pane ka ghum
is dil ko satana.
Or fir tut kar bikhar jaana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Jhukaye gardan fir kabro me apni lout aa jaana.
Jise ham ghar bhi kehte hai.
Use Suna sa dekh kar kadmo ka theher jaana.
fir na utha pana.
Ye sab kya hai
judai ki nishani hai.
Na mil pana, satana, or har kadam har moud par tut'te bas tut'te jana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Jaise andheri si gufao me talash roshni ki ** jaana.
jaise kisi apne ke haatho se haatho ka bichad jana.
Fir na mil pana.
kisi apne ko jata dekh kar
Dur se aawaze laga kar rokna.
Apne haatho ko jhatak na or diwaro pe patak dena.
Or bas kuch na kar pana.
bhari aankho se use
dur hote dekhte jana.
Palkey tak na jhapkana.
Fir aansuo ka jaise
sailab aa jana.
judai ki aag me
jalna,jhulasna
or zinda reh jana.
judai aisi hoti hai.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Nk Sairam :)
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 5:20 AM UTC
sometimes things that are so amazing, so wonderful…
can confuse me.
the emotions fog up the window
(my brain is clouded with thoughts)
when the fog clears, there are beautiful
blue butterflies flying around
(um...how’d they get there.).
that’s what confuses me.
could those be the same butterflies
from my stomach that
makes me nervous around you.
or are they a pigment of my imaginations,
feelings that aren’t true and made up.
(a soft warning of pain to come)
(an assurance of how beautiful i really am)
(a demon ready to devour me)
what is it.
i name this little blue—
confusion.
she’s beautiful but quiet.
maybe i need her company.
eventually the truth will hit her
instead of hitting the window
(my brain is a pane of glass).
you can leave this dungeon, papillon.
fly! fly away with your gratefulness!
be free!
(my imagination runs wild
like these butterflies)
freedom awaits.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
By
rgpage
The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.
He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.
He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.
She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.
Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.
The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.
Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked, filled not only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.
After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
OPPOSITE my chamber window,
On the sunny roof, at play,
High above the city's tumult,
Flocks of doves sit day by day.
Shining necks and snowy bosoms,
Little rosy, tripping feet,
Twinkling eyes and fluttering wings,
Cooing voices, low and sweet,-
Graceful games and friendly meetings,
Do I daily watch and see.
For these happy little neighbors
Always seem at peace to be.
On my window-ledge, to lure them,
Crumbs of bread I often strew,
And, behind the curtain hiding,
Watch them flutter to and fro.
Soon they cease to fear the giver,
Quick are they to feel my love,
And my alms are freely taken
By the shyest little dove.
In soft flight, they circle downward,
Peep in through the window-pane;
Stretch their gleaming necks to greet me,
Peck and coo, and come again.
Faithful little friends and neighbors,
For no wintry wind or rain,
Household cares or airy pastimes,
Can my loving birds restrain.
Other friends forget, or linger,
But each day I surely know
That my doves will come and leave here
Little footprints in the snow.
So, they teach me the sweet lesson,
That the humblest may give
Help and hope, and in so doing,
Learn the truth by which we live;
For the heart that freely scatters
Simple charities and loves,
Lures home content, and joy, and peace,
Like a soft-winged flock of doves.
11.1k
simple like rain
on a window pane--
it all sounds the same
drip drops
turn to hurricanes.
simple like rain
the tree branches sway--
wind passes through
whispers secrets to me and you
as the sun sets in the afternoon.
simple like rain.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
will suddenly trees leap from winter and will
the stabbing music of your white youth
wounded by my arms’ bothness
(say a twilight lifting the fragile skill
of new leaves’ voices,and sharp lips of spring
simply joining with the wonderless
city’s sublime cheap distinct mouth)
do the exact human comely thing?
(or will the fleshless moments go and go
across this dirtied pane where softly preys
the grey and perpendicular Always—
or possibly there drift a pulseless blur
of paleness;
the unswift mouths of snow
insignificantly whisper….
10.6k
Resuscitate our dead memories only just to die again;
Waking from a deep slumber, Staring out the window pane;
Counting hours, how long can I endure the need to restrain?;
Nothing have changed I should just get back to sleep again.
The sun rises slowly as it burns my pale tainted skin;
It just felt so good just to feel pain! For so long I've been so keen;
I grew weak in my dreams when I'm asleep, the thoughts of you makes me sick!
It's not that you vexes me, It's because of what I did to you that worries me;
Never before I have felt so sensitive within this lifeless body...
Lived only by drinking blood! To be confined in this coffin just to feel lonely!
And then you came... The one I thought who restrained the beast in me;
The one who gave warmth not burning me, calmed my soulless fury.
But we must all know that the nature has its way of breaking;
Something that is beautiful, Something profound! A new beginning...
And so it came to that point where I fed on her! left her dying!
Perhaps it was all meant to be for a while just to forget the craving...
I'm a killer, a monster! An abomination to this world!
But I can't take my life...Believe me I tried!
I bathed under the sun turn to ashes and died!
Only to know that when darkness falls I'll be revived...
I must make a choice... It fancies me just having this thoughts right now;
What could I possibly do?If the beast within is the one who contains me and how?
It seems like a personal attraction just to add some satisfaction as I reach for the ****
A little drama, show some masked humanity, make them live a little just to quench the thrill!
I have glared, I have grinned, I have laughed and I have seduced...
As I get closer for my teeth to sink in, let loose, let the hunger reduced;
But after the feed do I feel remorse? For hours I thought I did...
It's been like that through all the years... Feels redundant indeed.
So how far will this story goes? For centuries I have pondered in circles.
I have been there the evolution, the changes, the life as it cycles.
And again...Here and now as I stand where once I become capable staring at the sun;
I will forget the unforgettable, sail away! Far away from this land...
Remember my story as it will never end;
I'm finding a way now to break free from this curse;
To be one with my prey walk free no more blood to quench thirst;
So long and goodbye from me Dracula...
Serenity is what I seek...A redemption of what they speak.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Sledding, a white flurry of glitter
Glass trees throw soft needles a-sprinkle
A blissful silver rocket. It all flies by
Sparkles of diamond on the ceiling or sky
Radiant light, its fate to be wrinkled
by the dim labyrinth of this shining prism.
Gray aurora, dancing in the diamond rain
Iron curtains hide the truth
Glass and pains of steel, in a prism of gray
Do you see windows or mirrors?
All I see, a magnificent pane
A merry toast! To all I say cheers,
with a smile worth its years.
Lift your brittle glass as you would lift a curse.
And drink heartily from the once molten, crystal sand.
Drink the guile and drink the hate
Drink the lies of shame and berate
Drink to see that a flower in gray
is a prism for life, not a fancy bouquet.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
Tiny pairs of wings in colours of lavender & mint
flutter over rose chiffon, hanging over the curtains of my window
Outside, the world settles slowly in the white night. It's most unbearable because I recall that such lovely creatures have no place
in this stoic wasteland at all.
There is no warm wind to lift their feather-light wings,
nor flowers in which they may sip on
delicately
Jack Frost would nip at their tiny bodies
Father Winter would freeze their wings in motion
The cold winter wind would whip their breaths away. A sunrise pattern on the snow, littered with colourful decay.
Broken butterflies-
frozen; for the world on display
I still collect my voice with a tone of surprise, that they continue to flutter by inside next to this bed in which I lay.
For without your arms wrapped around my waist
the air in here is much the same,
As what lies beyond the window pane
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC