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Kevin Aug 2018
An empty boat glides through a tide-less sea
Echos of thunderous silence reminisces the rowdy sailors once on board
Without fear they sailed across the dark waters
Without the knowledge of forthcoming doom they kept the spirits high
Navigation impaired by the wrath of silence, their abominable gaiety and preposterous hopes were muted for eternity
Life drained, flesh rotted, bones crumbled to dust, and the boat was filled with peaceful death
Though without an inhabitant it still continues to drift towards a predesitned chaos
Its calm trail behind disrupted by an impatient tranquility
Its still path ahead disallows all animations with an unfluent time
Yet it moves forward
Life Jun 2014
Gentle kisses
Soft-spoken words
A dream, like a whisper, fades and disappears
Your hunger for me dissolves
The memory endures
Such is my love-life
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
Oh, what a horrible night
Definitely not late December back in '63
These are the Frankie valleys of my days

Night is always black
Night always comes back
Night envelopes us in the abyss
And makes us cherish light
Heightening our senses
To help us handle the unknown

When my days are filled with stimulation
The stillness of night sinks me
Into quicksand mixed by
The current of my mind
Overflowing into the sands of time
And reminds me
Of the stillness of my eyes locked on you
Or the stillness of my actions as you walk by
Or the stillness of my heart when you call me a ******

My frustration boiled
Night's black tar
So I bottled it up
Placed it in a syringe
And medicated my love with darkness

I worked my first job at the local Kroger's
People would leave with everything they wanted
And I'd push their empty carts back into the store
The artificial lights of the street lamps
Lacked warmth
Their hypnotic buzz highlighted
The stillness of night
Making me wonder if there was any way I could be happy
Similar to when activity would die down in rehab
A pitiful wretch left to his faculties
I'd stare out the window
Into the concrete chasm
And wonder if happiness could be found by someone like me

Night continues
Night confines
Day comes
And goes
Night returns
Night reburns
Night relearned
I really hate to see the day come to an end
It'd be alright if I was on the bay with a pen
But I live near sulfur vents
Inside a searing tent
Where the hellacious temperature rises rapidly
Despite the absence of the sun's warmth

The hellfire of night
Reminisces of those
I have thoroughly failed
And my overwhelming remorse
As I stare out my window
Into the bramble ravine
I wonder about the possibility of contentment
The stillness of night answers me
But at least now I can open the door
And charge into the night headstrong
To search frantically
For someone who
Erases my history
And writes my future
And makes me wonder if I could ever be happier
Frieda P Jan 2014
In dark amber twilight recesses
     folded over and safely tuck'd
memories mull like sweet dandelion's tangy wine
          of burgundy'd evenings bliss
    spice of nectar'd afternoons
            morning's satiated stares
I beckon these recollections
    on tempestuous rainy days raging such as this,
        reminiscing when we danc'd 'tween raindrops
reminiscing you—

back to the dawn when you unclothed all of the petals

so you can see what kind of love
he's made of & if he can
make the same love with you;

he would want to feel anytime again every touch
that scorched his skin that gave him
the wintry chill of fire

when you breathed him in it felt like an undaunted caress
of sea breeze to his soul & he carelessly
opened to your stranglehold
unafraid to die but also unafraid
that it was how it feels to be alive

like a sea on full tide
you love to drown whatever is on your hands;

wildflowers blossomed in the silent breaking of dawn
when he surrendered to you
by the rural seaside where
you plucked him

into stenchless strips that you laid on his palms when you were ready to leave with feelings he can't keep
& give,

strips you can never put back
once you unclothe a flower
of everything;

𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕, you asked him with a gaze that

would make him want to be with you
but wildflowers don't belong to the sea

𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘, you held his hand

& he's suddenly desperate to fall in love
that before you could ask, he lets you go;

this time by the seaside, it's sunny without you; with eyes closed
he stares into the blue
wondering where would he be now

—if he hadn't said no.
when a one-night stand finally happens between two people who are more than just friends but less than being lovers
#bl
Nash Wolfe Dec 2014
A dedication to a Lost Love.

If only my simple words could captivate every emotion that I am trying to convey. To summarize an illustrious story which I hold close to my dearest heart; then I would give you the entire world and then even more. From the deepest skies I would soar, just to bestow a higher power that you deserve; I would revive our love and mark every ocean shore for all to glance upon. My heart sets on fire and burns in blazing flames every time I hear you say “I love you”. I lose control, my nerves kick in and I am frozen within time; with you everything seems endless. The taste of your sensational kiss halts my heart; for when we depart, I hold on to that very last kiss and cleanse to it compassionately; the thought of you ponders everlasting.




The night is glorious; as they lay beneath Earth’s stars and galaxy. He comforts her and clings to her compassionately. He rolls his love on her back, as he blankets her in his arms; he glances through her glamorous eyes and finally spoke with a smile. “I see everything through your eyes. I see all that’s dark and brutal, to all that’s beautiful and filled with light. I see my whole world through your eyes.”
    
       She looks at him with silence as she tries to find the words to speak; then in a moment the words filter out like a waterfall. “For years I could only wonder how your kiss tasted, your lips against mine. Your smell eluded me, like I was knocking on Heaven’s door, just waiting to see the angels fluttering, an exquisite sight to see, an incredible beauty, to love unconditionally; a romance that is endless. Through your soul I can read an illustrious story.”

     He pulls her close; where he can hear every breath that circulates through her lungs. Then he gives her a soft kiss and a flutter of butterflies pours out of his stomach. “Our lips touch and it’s like a surge of electricity between our bodies.”

     “Gravity stops existing. We float through mid air. Flying through Heaven, our lips are still connected.”

     Kevin’s heart skips a beat as it starts to pulse rapidly; pondering over the love of his life, he only wishes to freeze time. “We float through space and time, an infinite dream, free to create our own reality; just you and me.”

She turns away from Kevin as she looks out in the wilderness. A cold breeze shifts towards her, as brisk bumps crawl up her spine. Everything shifts away; the open sky becomes more transparent. The moon still beams overhead; echo of howls vibrate through the wind. The silence between them leaves them both helpless and inert. She stands underneath a tree; the shadow it caste conceals her image. The leaves ruffle the peaceful atmosphere, with each crinkle and niche. The grass swiftly moves under Kevin’s body as he remains on the ground alone.

She glances at him persist, as his eyes connect with hers. They exchange each other’s worlds. Then she starts to dream off in an oblivious state of mind. She quietly speaks to Kevin. “As we drift together through the bewilder reality, we are bound by vines weaving around one another. Correlating a sense of compassion, as we endeavor this sensation, I get lost forever.”

Kevin stands up as he reaches for her soft hand and pulls it close to his chest; every beat of his heart she felt through the palm of her hand, then he began to speak softly. “Forever lost in your eyes like an infinite dream, the most amazing fantasy, our bodies weaving together, our lives intertwine like vines on a building.”

As she grasps his hands she stands bold; her eyes become cloudy, the night manifest deeper. Eagerly she speaks. “I pledge to this raven that stalks the night and watches over our bound vines, preying on its victim, not wanting to lose sight of this *******. It lingers with emotion. For our vibes are so strong that it paralyzes every eye.” She glares directly into Kevin’s eyes. “They choke because they need air to breathe.  We memorize them with our feelings’.
    
     Kevin’s eyes shift as they change from gray to a deep green; he becomes weak as his knees break beneath him. Slowly he loses balance, but before he falls his love catches him; closely they stand together, their strength is upheld by each other. Kevin lightly touches his love’s face and deeply speaks. “We steal breaths from those around us to feed our imaginable love growing ever longer day by day”.
  
     Nearly out of breath, she tenaciously speaks to him. “Unstoppable, undefeatable, I’m breathing slowly as I get closer to a man that sustains a capacity that is like no other”. She grabs onto his chest tightly not wanting to ever let go. “Our love burns hotter than fire and can freeze your heart like ice. What we share with each other you can only seek it once in a life time”.

       A light breeze fills the atmosphere around them; the dark starry night still covers the sky. He stands up, leaving her side. She remains inert on the ground as he stands by a tree grasping for the words to rebut. “It burns ever hotter and freezes ever colder. Growing ever stronger, able to stop an army and break the strongest barriers, never faltering jolts of lightening across the blue sky, able to conquer all in the path of this love”.

She rises to him, as they share a kiss. Their life changes, the sun finally peeks over the horizon creating a new day.

They go their separate ways; as Kevin let’s go of his love’s hand and kisses it one more time. He walks alone with tension in his mind. Finally he reaches home and immediately goes straight to his room.
    
The window in Kevin’s room blows a cold breeze; curtains flutter as his door slams shut. Kevin only hears silence; a pin drops to his floor and lingers through his chamber. The moon’s light is the only source that shines for his sight. Kevin lays in his prison, alone pondering over his life.

“So much going through my mind, my head is spinning in circles; I am losing my balance and I am about to break. Circumstances are not where they should be; my life is slowly crashing. Everything is changing so fast, I don’t know where to catch a grasp. My strength is going down the drain and I don’t know how much longer I can hang on. My paths are caving in; every road feels block. I toss and turn through out the night, just to escape my oblivious mind. I take one step forward to fall three steps back”.

Kevin rolls over on his back, as his mind and heart contemplates over his emotion that tears him apart inch by inch. His insides are ripping out and he holds them in his hands. Kevin’s stomach turns as his heart explodes. His blood pressure rises; then he sinks into a deep inner thought.

      
“When I break, when I fall, when I lose myself and tumble, if I give all I am, when I’m ready to take, will I be strong enough to fight, as I wait? If I search will I find the answers that are hidden? All that I have forsaken, when I am expose to the openness, expose to the brokenness.”

       Kevin’s eyes grow tighter as he shields them shut. Complete darkness surrounds him; Hell burning up in flames touches his skin, red marks crosses his flesh. The heat rises, Kevin’s walls begin to melt; as his life crumbles beneath his feet. He still searches for a higher power to relieve his despair. Kevin’s mind is screaming out and silence falls to the ground. He lays on his casket alone; as he murmurs to himself.

“Here I am it feels like I am not breathing, like I am only dreaming! When I sacrifice, in order to let go, when I lose at every battle, my heart gets fainter as you get closer. I lose control, my body in despair, shaky and scared. I tremble with each step, afraid to fail, to make a mistake. Make me feel like you did when I first gazed through your eyes, I was seeing through Heaven’s gate. The angels flying based upon fate, I get lost in them for days, like pain doesn’t exist on the prosperity of serenity.”

     Kevin falls dead, as he drifts away in a dream. Clouds fill his mind, and then draw blank. Through a far distant Kevin hears a faint voice. The sound of an angel intervenes in his head. She creeps closer and her image starts to become clearer. Her skins like a smooth mocha cream; her eyes cleanses with the night, beauty that he has never seen. Kevin’s eyes become focuses on the angel; as she draws nearer. She opens her arms and softly speaks. “Fall into my arms gently, let me take control. M arms will be your security; your protection to keep you safe in this world. Let me guide and lead the way, a new beginning to another chapter. We can create a life together, fast or slow. I will ease your oblivious mind and erase all of your pain.” The angel comes closer to Kevin, as her hair blows in front of her face. She stares at him then softly conveys. “I will show you a form of love that you desired for so long; there are no limits to this sensation. We are free to take it and run, together we unit as one.”

     Kevin sits in polarization as her glances at the angel. He trembles with each word. “I want to wrap you in my arms and keep you in my warm embrace; to hold you there till the morning light breaks through the window. I will blanket you in my warmth that is my everlasting love”.

     She lays in Kevin's arms as his body intertwines around hers. The atmosphere gets cooler; the clouds are still flying through mid-air. She grabs his hand tightly. “Let’s keep each other company and share a deep compassion, traveling through countries marking territories. Let the moon be the only light, it beams softly on your face. I'm allowed to see your mystical eyes; they tell a long story”.

     Kevin falls back, and the angel follows too. “I will take you through the highest mountains, the lowest valleys, across the coldest tundra’s and the hottest deserts. We will go through the deepest jungles, and the furthest reaches of the ocean, from the rings of Saturn, back to the grass of Iowa, without leaving our room”.

  “Through the great valley we will go; I will follow you till the end of time. You are worth fighting, let all the pain and heart ache subside. Our love is much greater than a storm that roars thunder and strikes lightening.” The angel slides her hand across Kevin’s face; he feels her warm embrace through the palm of her hand.

     Kevin closes his eyes and words unravel within time. “Our love reaches farther than the longest roads; it’s deeper than the deepest ocean. It is greater than the greatest features of human history, more amazing than the pyramids, and larger than life of the greatest man.” He pauses and takes in a deep breath and allows it to circulate deep within.

     The angel flutters her beauty to Kevin, as his eyes widen with every movement to makes. She solemnly floats away, but she still remains within Kevin’s sight. She quietly murmurs. “Let’s unravel this story and see how great this love really is, unlock every bind that once trapped our hearts. It can finally be released and freed. Lets forget about the past and the pain it once caused, for nothing else matters. We pulled through this far; still happy as a child’s laughter, withering deeper to a place like no other”. She takes a quick pause as she grasps for air. “The rivers flow much deeper, waterfalls flow much heavier, and affection growing greater. For it never decays as it ages; it just becomes more valuable through every night and day.”

     Memorized by every word she conveys, Kevin expresses his love like never before. He shifts to his left side and holds on to his treasure tighter. “I am ready to explore the love we have like the tombs of the ancient kings. I’m ready to take the twist and turns, never knowing what is yet to come, only knowing we’ll be side by side the whole way through, till the end of time, just you and I, on our road of love” Kevin’s heart aches with  prosperity, explosion that is within his soul. His body shakes and quivers every time his heart makes a beat. He looks at this creation as if she is all he could ever see. Kevin kisses her gently; his heart races more. Their lips disconnect and a light surrounds them. He stands behind the angel and whispers in her ears. “My soul is yours, along with my heart for you to take, to do what you wish. My love for you can not be measured. I hope to be in your heart for the rest of days”.

       Kevin’s arms remain blanket around the angel, the night that covers the starry sky. They both look out in the clouds where peace is found. She turns around in Kevin’s barrier and gently the crisp of her fingertips glides through his hair, the lips of the angel moves like calmness of an ocean. “Time can’t capture every split moment. I deprive your touch, your love, never wanting to let go. I still held on waiting for the day. Years passed over and we reunited; we picked up where we left off as if we never lived years without each other”.

     Kevin reminisces for a moment and draws himself back to the past. He stands by the angel as the memories play over in his head. “Days came and went and still I thought of you; the months came and gone and still I thought about you; the years rolled by and by and still I thought about you. Then I thought of you no more because you were in my arms again. You and I entangle like vines climbing up the wall, wrapping around each other”. The angel gives Kevin a light kiss and says her goodbye. He watches her leave his presents then says, “Wait, my love when I will see you again?” The silence answer Kevin’s question
The clouds wither away; the bright sky turns dark and gray. Everything around Kevin vanishes, then a cloud of smoke appears and a whisper conveys “Open your eyes and you will see me soon”. Kevin immediately opens his eyes and there his love was lying next to him. They both lay there sleepless and inert, as they fall asleep together. Their dreams intertwine with one another creating serenity.

         The waves collide as the ocean breaks to sonority then to calmness. A crack in which divides Heaven and Hell, with all the immoral things some how beauty is still found. There is a place where there is peace known as serenity. It helps people see everything; as the ocean departs and a new wave deprives the collision roars till the end of time.

      Kevin took a deep breath and let it lingered in the wind; then took a glance at the love of his life and spoke alluring words. "Walk through the veil from reality, to make believe. Allow your mind to drift into serenity pieces of you and me, together to keep in your heart and in your mind. I will show you the path to serenity."

       The love of his life pondered over Kevin’s words then responded back: "Will you drift with me to a place where there is serenity? A sacred piece that lets us be together, where there is no pain or suffering. Only the monuments that represent all that is make believe, a separation from reality.” She pushed her hair aside. “Where dreams guide the way, saving a memory to capture and remember. Will you grant me this serenity? Walk with me to this place that is unknown."

     Kevin took a few steps forward, and then paused. "This place is known to me. It’s anywhere that you’re with me and anyplace that I am with you, in the darkest dark or the brightest bright, the highest high or the lowest low. Serenity is you with me; happiness is me with you."

     She tightly closed her eyes and drifted away to a paradise in her oblivious mind. "I search for serenity when I reach my darkest hour. When the sun sets and ends another day. It’s never too dark when you’re with me. You’re the greatest light source that I will ever need.” She smiled at Kevin. “Happiness is a term that portrays an emotion where at times it’s inde
Iris Liu Feb 2012
sometimes we wonder why bad things happen
when we forget our blessings and count our tragedies
we mourn and grieve and hug and pray
and hug and cry and hug and say
I love you

we spread our fingers to hold numb hands
and we look each other in the eyes and let tears fall
we hold each other and don’t let go
for fear of life disappearing
before and our damp and betraying eyes

we watch in awe as others stand strong
laughing and smiling and honoring her spirit
unbroken unfazed and unforgettable

“Batman and barbies” he reminisces and shares
as composure escapes for a moment
the best daughter, sister, friend and teacher
above in the heavens for all to share

Allison, we love you and miss you dearly
and as we try to go on living in your honor
please forgive us if we break down and cry

You are beautiful and we’ll see you soon
it won’t be long
Harmony Sep 2014
written June 25, 2013

"The Helpless

She is a broken vase that was knocked over and dusted aside for no one to see
Pieces shattered and left to slowly gather dust year after year
She is the piece of glass that he would step on occasionally, a reminder of his mistakes and how he just brushed her aside like it didnt happen
And that pain he felt  in his foot he also feel deep in his heart as he reminisces that feeling of love he once felt
He  used to hold that vase so dearly, and delicately never wanting to let it break
But - it did

And as soon as it broke he made her believe like she was worthless
That truth emerged when months later she was replaced by a mug much more antique which lasted about a year

And the day finally came when she was thrown away
And the vase was happy once again
Until...

She is a brand new wine glass,
Beautiful and young
In bewilderment on how this all came to be
The broken  watches daily, as he loves this glass  just the way he used to love her

And she sits there, helpless for there's nothing she's can do about it

She's just an old forgotten broken vase
Dusted aside to make room for something better

The Powerful

She was a great and beautiful vase
That held the flowers I meant to give to her
But we couldn't be together, and that tore me apart
As the flowers withered, my love only grew stronger
Upset, I threw the vase on the floor
And cried as I brushed away the evidence

A few months later, school was starting up and it was time to move on with my life
I still think about her time to time, as I step on that broken glass piece that I must have missed..it really reminds me of how much I loved her

Now addicted to caffeine, I bought a cheap antique mug
It's beautiful and presses so gently to my lips every morning and night

It's been a year, and the mug didn't seem to capture my attention the way it used to so I threw it away
I will miss it, but I'm not much for coffee after all

Today I brought home a brand new wine glass
It's tall and beautiful and is anything an alcoholic could ever ask for
It feels right in my hand and helps so dearly with the lonely nights
When I am thinking of the past
And glance over at the broken glass
From the vase I once loved
That is now dusted aside for no one to see"
OK this one has a huge back story. So I dated a guy a long time ago who I didn't get over for like 3 years so a lot of my older poems are probably about him. In this poem, The Helpless is supposed to be from my point of view, and The Powerful is from his point of view. I tend to make scenarios in my head to help cheer myself up so I made up a point of view for him in the sense that he was missing the "Vase" (me). The coffee mug was his next girlfriend who he dated right after me and the wine glass  is the girl following that.
Prabhu Iyer May 2015
And then
I held your hand:
where have you been so long?
Our worlds intersperse, but seldom
we meet.

How has life been since you
had gone over? Does the horizon still
shine where you look from ?

A statue have I made of you,
and I sit reminiscing
every morning, sun-kissed.

Do you wear bodies the way we do?
Do thirst and hunger bother you?

I have so many things to ask,
but first, let us
go strolling in the park, years, since
I saw you in the dusk, dust-laden.
Exploring loss, a magical realist poem.

Also, have tried to put various rhythm sequences to convey an abstract sense: the poem starts with a Cinquain, ends in a quatrain and has a couplet and triplets..
Chambord recollections,
   exhaling smoky vapors,
wisps of  Madagascar aromatics
midst a French Château dream,
  dipped in honeysuckle reminisces
  of cardamom spice and the pungent
zest of once 'neath a midnight legend
Amitav Radiance Jun 2015
A poet is omnipresent
Travelling where none has before
Everyone has a secret destination
Loved more than any
So many roads travelled
Yet the poet’s soul is not weary
So many reminisces from ancient times
Poet’s soul is older than time can perceive
Taking notes from the chronicles of universe
Poet is testimony to many anecdotes
Traveling through the length and breadth
Touching lives of multitudes
Poet shall live within the poetry
Conveying the mystical and universe’s secret
A poet is omnipresent
Poetry shall encompass all of existence
judy smith Mar 2016
Fashion has always had two elements famous and embody, which probed the notion of how a distinctive muse can instil life into clothes. Simply put, a designer always aligned himself to a persona. But the advent of fashion blogs and websites removed the exclusivity factor and with slight modifications made it accessible to all. Fashion Lady is one such platform that women can turn to for fashion advice – 5.35 lakh women who follow the blog on Facebook vouch for it. Sree Reddy the woman behind all the glamsham, in conversation with Hyderabad Express, talks about her journey from a fashion-conscious woman to fashion advisor.

The journey thus far...

The odds of a Rajamundry girl, coming from a family where girls didn’t study and were married off before they turned 20, making it big in the fashion industry is almost zero. And yet, 13 years after leaving her home in Rajamundry, Sree, the fashion advisor of her family and friends, has become an advisor to the 2.5 lakh women who visit her website every month.

“The best thing a woman can wear is her confidence but Indian women, do not feel comfortable in wearing fashionable clothes. ‘Will I look good in this?’ is the first question on their minds. This is what Fashion Lady hopes to change,” says Sree who is the only educated woman in her family.

While being passionate about dressing well and helping her family do so too, Sree always had this thought at the back of her head that there would be several others who would need a comforting voice to tell them that they can pull of that little black dress or the low-cut blouse with an equal elan.

“My parents never stopped me from pursuing my passion but when the time came I gave my assent for marriage. I then moved to the US with my husband. But a few years later when we returned, my husband urged that I make a career out of my passion and this is how Fashion lady was born,” Sree reminisces and adds, “My experiences and encouragement from family inspired me to undertake this journey.” Having started with one staffer, the online magazine, as Sree likes to call it, today has 30 employees who write and advise across verticals, fashion, beauty, makeup, wellness and much more.

“The idea is to make make Indian women aware of latest trends; which with slight modifications can be incorporated by them to suit their personalities,” says Sree adding that it is offers a holistic approach to fashion.

Besides its advisory role, Fashion Lady also brings out monthly periodicals that help woman dress up according their sun sign.

Was it difficult to create a brand and name for herself in the city? “Not really. Passion helped me,” she says.

While asserting that Fashion lady is for “the real women with practical suggestions”, Sree admits that Hyderabad lags behind in terms of fashion and style. “It is not as laid back as it is made out to be,” she quips.

Achievement

“All I knew was that this was my calling. Reaching five lakh plus fans in less than three years of existence and appreciation over the years are my achievements,” she says.

Favourite designers

Bridal: Manish Malhotra Party wear: Tarun Tahiliani Formal: Label Ritu Kumar Closet

Must - haves

White lenin dress

Tan sandals

Gemstone accessories

Floral stole

Shades

Fashion is...

Anything you feel comfortable and confident in is fashion for me. There is no fixed definition for fashion, it is very subjective. But yes, I love to dress up in traditional Indian clothing.

Fashion philosophy

I won’t change my style to impress anyone -- I will be me wherever I go. I am not shy in portraying myself as Indian. In fact, during my stay in the US I would wear only traditional Indian outfits

Would like to style?

Every Indian woman who is not confident about carrying latest fashion. I want to be there to tell them that they will be able to pull it off.See more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Under the streetlight, covered by moonlight
I sat upon a bench, waiting to unite

took out my diary, flash-backed our memory
read all your letters, sunken in harmony

listening to the rain drops, took out my umbrella
reminisces your voice, how you call me senorita

buses after buses, all kind had gone by
still neither recieved a call nor a reply

thoughts in my head, ran a sec per mile
my brain submerged in doubt, but heart said to wait

someone took me in arms, hugged so tight
i trusted my heart, so was it you...
Waiting can be hopeful and dying too..

"Sat by the streetlight" made me a Gold winner🏅 in the contest using photo prompt at Allpoetry©
https://allpoetry.com/Shwetha_SB
A mournful air beyond the fog,
Death can meet among the poisonous rubes,
Beyond the trees and past the deformed log.

The Knight in Shining Armor comes to save the day.
Bearing healing potions from afar in pewter tubes,
But he is much too late; the Fool has already faded away.

His tears are many, for the loss of a brother,
They are heavy and murky against the dreamscape.
Now for his revenge, he seeks a strange other.

On his new, and strangely enlightened quest,
He feels transparent ghouls kissing his nape
Little does he know it is the sign of a Witches test.

Maneuvering among the empty placed grave,
He keeps his hopes on a looming tower.
He approaches his becoming of an honest knave.

He must be quick and tighten his saddle,
Because a pursuing evil is a deadly power,
And this Knight in Armor must be ready for battle.

The danger of our Knight is not known to man.
To survive, the he must unlearn his past.
This evil he faces is formulating a plan.

The towers close in as he passes their gates.
A spicy chill, creeps up the Knights spine,
And he finally grasps the terror of what awaits.

Inside his mind, he questions going back.
But dismisses the though as a man on wine.
He secretly knows this creature is on his track.

As he pushes himself onward,
He reminisces on his brother, and his life.
The only defining thought for him is froward.

He takes his final turn around the final corridor,
Quick on his feet and ready with his knife.
At first sight, he though his vision must have been poor.

A woman whose beauty surpassed any he had ever seen,
Stood with her naked eyes set firmly on him.
This was the witch who had killed all he had been.

Unable to take the life of any woman,
The soldier took a last and final look
And plunged the knife into his abdomen.

The beautiful witch had won yet another soul,
She knew why it was his life she took.
Never mind the Fool, the Knight had been her goal.
ryn Aug 2016
.

"Looking down from ethereal skies
Silent crystalline tears I cry
For all must say their last goodbye -
to Paradise..."

- Paradise Lost by Symphony X

Head buried                          
in pillows in the sky,      
voraciously consuming
the fluffy whites.            
Windy fingers                    
sieve the air.                      
                 Watchful eyes                                    
tracing tails of kites.    

He only hears      
  the faint hymns
                            from the outstretched wings
         of feathered birds.
            Leans back weightily
          on his throne of clouds.
        Notions form haphazard
in so many words.    

Casting his gaze,
               willing it earth-bound.
            Careless trees sway
                       in synchronised tandem.
              Diverse songs merge
              seamless in harmony.
        Singing in unison,
                             revelling the gift of freedom.

             Silent tears fall
                         and trickle as rain...
                  As he reminisces
                                       the images of his forsaken past.
       Scored paintings
of a paradise lost.  
All must say                          
their final goodbyes...                  
He will bid his,                              
last.
                                               

.
Current earworm. I feel this song.
CH Gorrie Sep 2012
The spidered light of a September night,
shallow and sparsely flung about the room,
reminisces the sound of a phoenix in flight,
while webs inside the rafters loom.
The phoenix song is like the pallid glow of a chandelier.
Waning, yet resilient,
it coos in mystic merriment
melodies in the key of a rattling nearby mirror.
Every so often the song completely stops,
filling me with a silent bit of despair.
Commonly this follows loud scores of pops
indicating the cycle residing in the flare:
into ashes the song bird bursts again.
It's Rudolphish nose begins to scrunch up ---
I see it even now as I fill my water-cup ---
a sort of reincarnation acumen.
But the bird isn't really real or here;
it's more of a half-truth or memory,
similar to tales of the origins of tea.
It sways, forgetful on my cerebral pier,
nearly falling into the waves of my brain,
dipping it's feather mid-refrain,
repeating it's song again and again,
and again.
Eve K Mar 2022
It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.

I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.

Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.

I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.

I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.

I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.

I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.

The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.

I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.

That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.

I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.

I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.
Elodie Eye Mar 2012
It’s all over Weak Man’s MySpace
(might as well be on the news),
it’s in his MSN name;
he has no face to lose.

He’s always been so open,
(worn his heart upon his sleeve);
up pops his Facebook status,
so emotional, every eve.

Then a phone call to his friends
(tears muffling the line).
After listening for hours,
the verdict is “It’s fine.”

His jury is so kind
(one sided sympathy).
They do the trick for Weak Man;
they are what sets him “free”

He looks through some old photos
(sunglasses and a smile)
turns up his brand new ipod,
reminisces for a while.

Up gets Weak Man from his chair,
Looks out his bay window,
and on his face a nice new grin,
who’s the strong man now?
Effie Rose Jul 2019
You may believe home to be an address,
You are wrong.
The co-ordinates I list as my place of residence,
Are subject to change.
As do the seasons,
As my health waxes and wanes,
As my job becomes a harrowing echo,

My home will remain,
Incorrupt,
Unblemished.

As the night-sky,
Glistens and reminisces.
Its nostalgic ribbon intertwines with my soul -
My heart,
Recognises its home.

The waves,
That serenely lap against the shore,
Leaving, once elapsed,
A maze of its belongings,
Like a Nomad on his journey.
Demonstrative tides of exposure,
Against our profane human culture,
To jumble together
In definition,
Our home and our belongings.

Does this translate,
That home is sovereign
Of worldly corruption,
And is therefore
Safe from life’s unpredictability?

Home,
It is a state of mind.

Home is the essence which coats your soul.
Home is the promise of peace.
Home could never be my place of residence,
For between hospitals and the couches I have surfed,
Void of worldly possessions,
I have never once been homeless.
I possess more than the man who cannot see
That a fixed abode in this world is not the true interpretation,
Of a phrase so bespoke.

As I look into the night-sky,
And reminisce;
As the waves serenely lap
Against the borders of land and sea,
I accept that no matter where in the world I may find myself,
The moon will still shine,

The waves will still sing soft melodies to the sand,
And my home,
I forever hold in my hand.
'Home' explores life's uncertainty through the key issues of homelessness, ill health and our materialistic culture. They always say, 'Home is where the heart is.' - but what does that truly mean applied to our daily lives?
Duncan Leugs May 2013
Across dry plains the tumbleweed dances
          off the dusty floor
As a renounced ballerina reminisces
          in her old studio
          On the corner of the street
                    towards the west
                              following the sun
                                        where all dreams go
And where the wind carries the tumbleweed.

The air rustles in the drift
          as she sighs
Breathing in the dusty smell
          of the grass
          Of the room
                    where she once performed
                              for her beloved
                                        now carried away
                                                  by the same wind
                                                  that carries tumbleweeds
                                                  and­ caused dust to dance.

A tear soaks the wooden floor
          a small relief from the barren span
                    for the lonely ballerina
                              who is forever carried
                              along the scalding land.
Lost.
          Like words unsaid
                    on lips untouched
                              cracked by the sun
                                        where all dreams go
And where the wind carries the tumbleweed.
When referring to grammer, the term "tumbleweed" is given to a sentence that continues on, jumping from thought to thought. In this poem, I attempt to intertwine the definition of "tumbleweed" with the structure and imagery of the poem, creating an analogy for a tumbleweed and a ballerina who is facing a loss of a friend, a career, a lover ... I'll let you decide. Enjoy.
///
Look! My friend
It is true that
my existence will be graved after death-
you forget me,
as speed squander particle existence--
earth could not remember--
either it will be deformed
or dissolved---

Memory decays as rolling stone-
forget and fade
twinkle childhood,
as daffodils wither at evening---

Today's child
the father of tomorrow
Aye reminisces the past and decide the future,
today's peppy stream with its chime,
tomorrow's buried river-
only articulate history

Civilization, culture and fashion,
those are transfigured by time-
I see, truth has grown as a lie
as the sun rises in the west,
men have made the conversion to lie-
as politics become poly tricks-

Igneous to metamorphic rock,
by the process of nature with time-
the ultimate truth

From summer to winter,
winter to spring -
pouring--
Sweet sweat-
snowflakes-
cuckoo sings
season changeover and being--

But aftermath
my friend,
two things are still ******,
untouched,
my love--
my soul--
the power of God----
///
@Musfiq us shaleheen
My Love, My soul -
The Power of God
Vivian Jun 2015
Bonnie squeals as the cart soars past various boxes of cereals and granola bars. She glances at her brother, Clyde, expecting him to share her fright, but is bewildered to see that he is thrashing about in a fit of giggles, enjoying the thrill of the ride. Knuckles white as snow, Bonnie's frail little fingers grasp the side of the red cart with all of their might as her eyes clamp shut. Her heart beats faster than the speed of light, and she questions her motives for agreeing to Clyde's devilish ways.

She reminisces on their earlier arrival at the Local Target. They had come with their mother, planning to do a little grocery shopping and then be on their way. Of course, Clyde had schemed up a way to stray from his mother's side unnoticed. Bonnie still can't fathom how he managed to drag her down with him.

Cautiously, wind whipping through her hair, Bonnie peaks one eye open and instantly regrets it. She let's out an ear - piercing howl as the cart thrusts into a mountain of PopTart boxes large enough to be deemed the Empire State Building's father. She crawls out of the heap only to be met by an eruption of heartfelt laughter spewing from her brother's mocking lips. "You should have seen your face!" Clyde teases as Bonnie sends daggers through his skull.

The two troublemakers step out of the cart and attempt to retrace the way back to their mother. Devastated, they come to the conclusion that the aisles now resemble a maze. As they confidently take on this new challenge and make their way through the unknown, their spirits quickly take a downward spiral upon realizing that they have ended up back where they began. Tired and desperately longing to go home, the two siblings reach a clearing past the aisles and are overjoyed to spy their mother waiting patiently in line at a register with a new cart in hand.

Bonnie and Clyde casually lazy on over to their mother's side and make light conversation as if they had never left.
Disclaimer: I kind of wrote a short story, but oh well. Here's another piece from high school, freshman year.
They met on rainy days
  when the air was thick,
laden with the
   scent of old musky
     scrapbook memoirs
           & salt tears' reminisces
Tara Jul 2019
I have been practicing love instead of anger,
but how do I digest the pain my parents silently suffered,
or the losses my mother still reminisces each and every year,
tell me how can I respond with love when they taught my family self-hate,
to hate their home and hair,
to hate their skin and the clothes they wear,
how do I forgive generations of suffering,
and how they made my uncle a martyr,
brainwashed him to die in a war that could’ve been prevented,
how do I forgive the domino effect of life, that made their great grandparents **** mine?
love runs through my veins,
but anger lives within my blood,
I guess I saw it in my mother's eyes,
you can still love without forgiveness,
but it will take room in your mind,
build a home of sadness,
you’ll pass on to your child.
A mournful air beyond the fog,
Death can meet among the poisonous rubes,
Beyond the trees and past the deformed log.

The Knight in Shining Armor comes to save the day.
Bearing healing potions from afar in pewter tubes,
But he is much too late; the Fool has already faded away.

His tears are many, for the loss of a brother,
They are heavy and murky against the dreamscape.
Now for his revenge, he seeks a strange other.

On his new, and strangely enlightened quest,
He feels transparent ghouls kissing his nape
Little does he know it is the sign of a Witches test.

Maneuvering among the empty placed grave,
He keeps his hopes on a looming tower.
He approaches his becoming of an honest knave.

He must be quick and tighten his saddle,
Because a pursuing evil is a deadly power,
And this Knight in Armor must be ready for battle.

The danger of our Knight is not known to man.
To survive, the he must unlearn his past.
This evil he faces is formulating a plan.

The towers close in as he passes their gates.
A spicy chill, creeps up the Knights spine,
And he finally grasps the terror of what awaits.

Inside his mind, he questions going back.
But dismisses the though as a man on wine.
He secretly knows this creature is on his track.

As he pushes himself onward,
He reminisces on his brother, and his life.
The only defining thought for him is froward.

He takes his final turn around the final corridor,
Quick on his feet and ready with his knife.
At first sight, he though his vision must have been poor.

A woman whose beauty surpassed any he had ever seen,
Stood with her naked eyes set firmly on him.
This was the witch who had killed all he had been.

Unable to take the life of any woman,
The soldier took a last and final look
And plunged the knife into his abdomen.

The beautiful witch had won yet another soul,
She knew why it was his life she took.
Never mind the Fool, the Knight had been her goal.
Frieda P Mar 2014
I paused longingly
    in your haunting metaphors
in phases of moonglow's perceptions
under enticing whispers of glint'd skies,
          a calm filled of scorch'd shudders
   & twilight's blossomed delusions
       under the influence of divine cravings,
                 breaths of magnolia's sighs
   uttered in shades of nightfall,
         dreams aspiring of
               scented reminisces  
                                  to soar once more
beauteous rushing realms of a besieged mind
    forgotten rhymes of scorched memoirs
delectation's reminisces 'pon dusky cloudbursts
     hazes of reflective delirium's inclination
scripted amidst skies of smoldering verse
   sans tomorrow's twilight of synchronicity nor
reasons beyond glorifying poetry's sublimity
David Waters Jan 2013
I saw a good friend die
******* did I cry
His last words still linger in my head
He told his dad to go to bed
Last time he told me this was temporary
I thought he meant his condition
Then I took a better listen
Now I realize he meant life
And that he knew his position
He knew where he was going
Up in heaven with God
And this sent my emotions flowing
Son I have some bad news
Kyle passed this morning
Pause valentine
A hysterical mourning
But I can stop the scorning
He's in a place so much better
Can't even be imagined, never
So I remember
Farmer brown
And the mine not far
The bike scar in the backyard
The fill by the shed
And the metal bunk bed
To keep away from girls who's names start with A
And the move to Vermont, what a dreadful day
The big stupid game
We would always play
But never won
The hotel in Dubai to Newburgh
And Furnishing the pool, what fun
Never again after catamount
And never again the alpine slide
But always that roller coaster ride
With the ugh, ya know!
these memories I will stow
But it's not just a superfluous list of reminisces
They're a depth forming row of instances
Which brought us steps closer to potential distances
But cut short in your teens
And I'm not sure what it means
Or its true prominence nor value
Whatever it is, it's because of you
July 29th
memineI Dec 2014
to a beginning no one has dug far enough or searched their souls long
enough
nor has been ever a man who lived as long as Moses, or caused more  doubts than Mephistopheles.
Don't get me wrong, I am religious, in a vaporous way,
I see apples as figs and floods as myths.
Reminisces cloud my atheistic thoughts. Day to day according to the sun shines
or cloudiness.
And steam rises from my breath, at times. When I feel so alone, and coldness closes around, I doubt  my doubts.
I seek God to speed healing when a loved one is in need.
I am first off, an honest hypocrite. I would sell my soul for Peace.
I see the new day, sometimes, kneel down in prayer.
My question remains as I say, Amen, for what.
And to whom?
Annatman Dec 2018
Lingering salt from the risen sand
Reminisces of a sea-side land
I have abandoned in search of peace
Arriving inland - no sea, no release
From the concrete-desert landscape
Bricks and bridges, and no escape
For the dirt from pores into water
Only mortar and glass, but the latter
Like the sea, shines and reflects
Made of sand, this mirage protects
The memory of this desert land
Where light, reflected, on the skin lands
Like airplanes arriving from distant lands
Where pigment - the only reminder that stands
Free from our far-fleeing, wandering hands
Memories, immigration, Israel, Crimea
mugdha bhagya Feb 2017
Random memories of old times
resurface, like broken images
a family dinner, vastly spread garden,
a chat with my mom at kitchen table,
or just a day in school

These reminisces are fulfilling in itself
yet one feels an ache
of how you once existed in that time
and yet it doesn't seem to be real

I remember my mother getting ready
and how I used to watch her
wishing her not to go, for I would be alone again
oh the love I feel for her, haven't felt for anyone else

And through time
I have grown fond of those memories
wondering why, at the time
it din't seem so beautiful

These flashbacks of milliosns of tiny moments
are made up of all feelings we once felt
It is like stardust, with each particle a picture
we accumulate and blow it away
once the show is over.
Sean C Johnson Sep 2013
Sleep eludes me in the presence of these sheets
No matter how I force myself to forget your scent, they keep reminding me
As the table reminisces of the conversations that accompanied our every meal
The brass door knobs always tell me how they miss the way your soft hands would feel
As your eager fingers twisted them quick upon your arrival home
The wooden floors creak and moan
Forever mentioning the lightness of your step
The pillows talk about the warmth of your breath
Even the switches speak of how you would turn out the lights
Before you tucked into those very sheets and kissed me goodnight
Laying still, alone in an empty room
I gave everything away because it would remind me of you...
Frieda P Sep 2013
" COLLABORATION Jack & Frieda "

A hush does wake this early dawn
in whispers formed on breathless dreams
Sunrise of horizon’s glow
through flowing curtains on opaque glass

I sense in the distance, a tingling  
the air crisp with Fall's spinning
a tangible scent of warmth is mulling
like hot cider's comfort beside a fire


Crimson and ochre paint the valley
in a tapestry of nature’s desire,
gently woven in patterns of bliss,
collecting thoughts in blue tinted jars    

Memories of far away encounters
as if captive in snow globes embraces
Topsy-turvy recollections and reminisces
painted in hues of yesterday's resolve


Secured neatly with plaid and gingham ribbon,
set upon the sill amidst cranberry ornaments
Reflecting past love and new day wishes,
scented by a heart longing for autumn’s sweet kiss

*A gentle sway of a zephyr sweeps my hair
I'm reminded of your touch at the nape of my neck
a season of whirling calyx in sweet surrender
I sigh in this moment, for I wish you were still here
Felix Decarz Jul 2014
She lay awake for the better part of an hour.
The light streaming through half drawn blinds.
She did not cry, because there was nothing to cry about.
She did not smile, for she felt no joy.

Maybe it was talent, or maybe it was just that she'd been doing this alot lately.

When she thought about nothing and everything,
Simultaneously first, then at the same time.
So sporadic her thoughts became,
The idea of insanity was ingrained.

She had a father, a mother and a lover who cared.
She did not understand the reason of her despair.

She reminisces of old days, days face with enthusiasm and vigour.
She wonders what changed, what makes her want to pull a trigger.


She thinks about what's wrong and how it came to be so.
The questions have always been easy.
If only, the answers were so nice to her.

There is no sorrow to feel, no happiness to be glad.
There is only emptiness and desolation.
There is only detachment and isolation.

Its funny. Its downright hilarious.
People with tough lives achieve greatness.
While the mediocre lives stay bare and dead.
She lay there for the better part of an hour.
Dreading what lay ahead.
Selena Jance Apr 2013
She lay with her back to him, face to the wall, says: “Nothing is black and white. All shades of grey. I wanted it to be… just wish it was white.”
She placed the cracks in her voice at calculated places, hoping but no reply expecting. He is usually not aware of her subtleties, the hints to the real state of things, with her. Then he lays his arm around her as he says: “At least it’s grey, not black.”
Her eyes widen in the dark but do not flinch, and she pulls him by his hand closer onto her, wishing it was the only touch she needed to bring her the ultimate comfort that she wanted, that she needed.
“But I’m afraid, the black will seep in and make the grey darker.” She swallows, suppressing her fear for speaking fatalities. “Sometimes it seems like it has and does.”
Silence falls over them as she waits for an answer; the black stylised curls he drew on his wall gaze back at her, with still, reciprocating wonder.
She reminisces to how she drew curls on her own wall, with the artistic charcoal she got for her fifteenth birthday; it was a meagre gift from the one to whom she would lose her virginity barely a few months later. Now, the curls are gone, and her contact with him fell away soon after the fact, reduced only to sporadic visits on her part.

Finally, listening to his steady breathing in sleep, she is convinced he had given up the conversation, feeling comforted that he reassured her enough for now. Her eyes remain open still though; they peer through the darkness as if it held her fortune, solitarily illuminated by the stars shining through the skylight above her. It is relating conflicting prophecies however.
If I was as pure as white, no black could – would contaminate my love for him, she thinks. But white is for virgins and she has been in love before.

© 2006
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
From one country to another.
From one air to another.
From one heart to another.
I settle down from the sky to the ground.

I miss the people back home,
I miss the familiarity
I reminisces the beauty of the place
I called home.
It takes time to settle
my emotions
and life.

But then as I roam,
I fall in love with the intricacies.
I see the hidden beauty of the country.
As I meet people,
I start building homes in their heart.
And as I breathe the air,
I start to feel like this is home.

But as soon as I felt I was settling in,
when I was finally falling in love,
I have to leave.  

I feel my deep intertwined roots in
people's hearts being pulled away.
I feel my heart breaking into pieces
as my hesitant hellos
become aching goodbyes.

My heart has become a hollow,
transitioning swiftly from emotional
to emotionless.

I feel alone once more,
as I depart from the ground back to the sky.
But I know, this cycle would repeat once more.
Mohamed Nasir Sep 2018
When a man was a boy play was what he knew
papa loved mama toys basket load old
and new

then a man was a youth to find aware of himself
and the search for truth to learn educate or else

and the man was a man working like a
burdened
mule the sea salter than salt his world
worsened

the man found a woman learned to
handle babies
he grew tired abandoned the family for other ladies

the man was an elderly wiser than before least
haste and more orderly and no longer
the beast

now a grizzly old fool dozing or
reminisces
of love lovers mind's full of regrets of lost chances

the man no more a man who depends on the wife
wrought by illness can fold him in
hopeless life.
Michelle E Alba Jun 2010
Sometimes its enough-
no need to carry on.
To continue the letters
that lengthen the song.
That does not matter
for it-
already is done.
Yet you sift through the stars
as if-
there were none.
Go repent, you are
the only one.
Who reminisces the days
when love was sung.
And prevailed and won.
And cheered and hummed.
A time in which
we cared for fun.
Irrelevant now,
enough-
you were wrong.
pointless to try
and lengthen the song.

— The End —