"replies" poems
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.
I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.
The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl."
True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.
Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.
As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."
She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
*
*After planting a kiss on Krishna's lips
Radha slowly whispers
"Where is the playground
We will go and play?"
And Krishna replies
"YOU've already started
Playing on it now!"
Radha moves a step back
In the darkness of the night
Krishna:
"Where are you going?"
Radha runs a few steps away
Krishna:
"Do not go away my Radha
Stay with me for some more time
Let us play at least one game
The game you started on my lips"
Radha smiles and disappears
In the darkness of the night
Krishna:
"Where are you hiding now?
What is the hurry
To run away from me?
Wait for another hour..!
Be with me, my BELOVEDz..."
Krishna:
(singing)
"We did not even start
Playing the game of LOVE
We did not even
Explore each other
We did not even
Hide within each other
We did not even
Look into each other's eyes
My heart is thirsty of YOU
I felt your heart on my chest -
And I heard it beating so fast
The game of LOVE has just begun
Do not go away from me
Stay back with me tonight..
Just for one night - my BELOVEDz!"
Radha:
(sings back)
"I will stay back
If you promise me that
YOU will rain your LOVE
For the whole night
Within my ocean
You will strike lightning
Within my abyss
Please promise me that you will
wander over me,
And wonder over me
For the rest of the night"
The birds of the forest sing in a chorus:
"Even though it is night, we birds are awake
We will ask fireflies to light up the sky
We will build a house of
Branches and vines for both of you
We will tie you up in the spider's web
And we will play music of
LOVE for the whole night"
The animals of the forest join the chorus too:
"We have build a swing for such a day like this
YOU two LOVERz can come
And swing the whole night
While sleeping together on this cradle"
Radha:
(peeps out from behind a tree)
"While I am wearing my Krishna
Like a cloth on me
What if we are caught by the world?"
Krishna:
"I will hide you within me
So no one will see YOU separate from me"
Radha:
"Okay, if you say so
I will run and come right away
In your embrace and hugs"
Krishna:
"Oh Radha, be fast -
Surrender your LOVE to me
And sweeten my milk
with your honey.."
Radha: (hesitates)
"Please have some patience for a while
Why are you in so much hurry
To LOVE me - my LOVERz?"
Krishna:
"I promise on the billion stars of the dark night
I promise on every grass & leaves of this forest
If you promise to come to me once
I will LOVE you for a thousand lives"
Radha:
"I am mesmerized by your LOVE deeds
But I won't tell you how I feel"
Krishna:
"I know how you feel -
It must be the same as I feel
Such a salty and sweet feeling
Within the core of our hearts"
Radha-Krishna:
(sing together)
"And we have lost control
On our own heart in LOVE
Tonight we are filled with divine LOVE
That we pour out on each other
Let our touch ooze
LOVE fragrance on entire forest
Let us not utter a single more word now
Let our being & body play its parts
Let us listen our silences & sounds
And enjoy the deep cravings
Of our LOVE-NIGHT"*
*
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Weary and weak,--accept my weariness;
Weary and weak and downcast in my soul,
With hope growing less and less,
And with the goal
Distant and dim,--accept my sore distress.
I thought to reach the goal so long ago,
At outset of the race I dreamed of rest,
Not knowing what now I know
Of breathless haste,
Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste.
One only thing I knew, Thy love of me;
One only thing I know, Thy sacred same
Love of me full and free,
A craving flame
Of selfless love of me which burns in Thee.
How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill;
Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death?
Re-energize my will,
Rebuild my faith;
I will arise and run, Thou giving me breath.
I will arise, repenting and in pain;
I will arise, and smite upon my breast
And turn to Thee again;
Thou choosest best,
Lead me along the road Thou makest plain.
Lead me a little way, and carry me
A little way, and listen to my sighs,
And store my tears with Thee,
And deign replies
To feeble prayers;--O Lord, I will arise.
15.4k
Dear Miss ********,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we do not have space for you at our company.
Yours,
Xxxx xxxxxxxx
Dear Miss *******,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we cannot offer you a place with our company as you are under qualified.
Yours ** xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that you are over-qualified for the position.
Yours, xxxxxxx ***
Dear Miss ******,
I don’t think so love. This isn’t even a letter, this is my managerial position on you handing me your cv.
Cheers, bahbye now
Dear Miss *******,
This isn’t really a letter either, but despite how un-pc this is, we can’t hire you due to your gender.
Thanks anyway, save your paper.
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application, unfortunately we had stronger applicants.
Yours, etc., aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. Unfortunately we are not hiring at the moment even though we had advertised the job you applied for.
Yours, xxxxxxxxx xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
We had left it between you and another applicant, and couldn’t decide so we flipped a coin, and she won. You’re a lovely girl though.
Yours, fffffff ffff fffff
Dear Miss ********,
I refer to your claim for Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance at VVVVVV’s CCCCCC local office. Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance claims are subject to periodic review, consequently, I would appreciate if you would attend this office for interview on the 31/17/78 and bring the following :
1. Proof of Identity (i.e. Passport or Driving Licence or Long version of your Birth Certificate)
2. Proof of Residency (e.g. Letter from landlord/ Rent Book/ Lease/ Mortgage Receipt/ Letter from Parents + Household Bill)
3. Written Proof of recent job applications and replies.
4. Proof of job applications made through FAS
5. FAS courses applied for.
6. A copy of your Curriculum Vitae (CV): unemployed from
7. If your spouse/partner is an adult dependent on your claim, please bring his/her GNIB and Passport/Travel Documents.
Failure to respond to this letter may lead to suspension or disallowance of claim.
Yours sincerely,
**** *****
Local Officer
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Sometimes two hearts write the most beautiful poetry together, completely by accident.
It's one a.m. and one heart can't sleep...........sends a simple message ......I Love You My Heart, not even expecting a reply. It's one a.m. and that other heart can't sleep either.........replies, I Love You..........
Ah! one heart replies, I knew I felt you, where in turn the other replies you can feel me anytime, which of course for those of us with a sense of humor can be taken lot's of ways, both hearts think with a smile.
The first heart replies, oh yes, always, but sometimes it's as if I can feel your breath on my cheek..........
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
I'm kind of stuck
At least... I think I am
Somewhere between telling everyone I know to **** off
And "just please come hold me friend"
Some place in between an uneasy heart and hectic mind
"I'm depressed"
Can't I just say it without having to explain why?
Sometimes I don't even know which reason to choose
Short replies
"You seem like you don't want to talk"
You're right, but I also want to reach out
I want out
I want to let go of everything
And capture it all in my arms
like a fire fly in the palm of restless hands,
Just let me hold on to your light
Atleast, just for tonight
Because I'm feeling stuck.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upward
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
The harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.
So people can't sleep,
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
The harvest moon has come!
And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world.
Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry 'We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.
10k
There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to ****** our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’
9.6k
Devilish Grin
with a
Naughty smile
Dark hair
Blue eyes
spoiled-n-wild
Tats two
Black-n-blue
dark-n-tan
white stockings
Knee-high
high- heels
spread thighs
Deep breath
wide eyes
long strokes
deeper sighs
nail marks
blood red
already dried
move slow
Said wise
silent screams
already tried
hand cuffed
lips sealed
Hair tied
Legs wrapped
open wide
Firm grip
twitching hips
In joy
Toes curled
Slip-n-slide
smooth ride
deep ******
Headboard knocks
she replies
screaming
please
come inside
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:41 PM UTC
People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.
They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...
Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.
They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.
I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.
What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.
I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
The Saga of battle face off between Arjuna & Karna.
Karna gets the Naga ashtra from the Lord Brahma.
The Naga ashtra arrow is set to hit the target without miss.
Arjun Chariot is Guided by Lord Krishna.
Arjun & Karna face to battle for the survival for the supremacy
Battle of best in the Kurukshetra between karna & Arjun
Arjun is know as the Best in the Bow.
But while the situation is different with karna with Naga Ashtra arrow.
Force of Arrow from bow making huge noise of impact in the wind.
With every arrow from bow of both are hitting in the mid air & collapsing
Karna lefts the Arrow of Naga ashtra & prays the Slogan to be effective
Arjun no answer to the arrow of Naga
Keeps quite & focus towards Lord Krishna
Lord krishna smiling replies to bow
Arjuna replies with angry Iam an Hero & can face with my Bow.
Karna with Big laughter speeds the Arrow of Naga towards Arjun.
The Naga Ashtra is a Destruction weapon in the world.
Naga Ashtra targets the Head of the Arjuna
Lord Krishna pushes the chariot by his thumb towards down earth
Arrow of Naga is straight towards Arjuna Head.
Lord Krishna Commands to bow the head down
Arjuna does so the arrow is supposed to hit the head with out miss.
Arrow is will not stop without hitting head.
Karana is eager to celebrate the Victory of best in Kurushetra
Lord Krishna hears the sound of hitting head
& Turns to see the What happened?
Lord Krishna says yes the arrow hit the head
Arjuna replies Lord Iam safe
According to Shastra Naga Ashtra hit the Head of Chariot
Karana will not able to reuse the Ashtra of Naga
as it has hit the Head of Chariot.
By this Arjuna Leaps wider angle to arrow the Bow
& the Bow lands on Karana chest.
The Battle of Big is won by Arjun in the period of Kurushetra.
Yours
Shankar Pattabi
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
he kneels down before me
with ring on his hand
and vow in his heart
then my lips replies
"I will"
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC
Picture yourself:
confident threads,
in a mix fabric shirt.
You're in a relationship,
and it's full of love.
Till one day,
it's skewed.
The love is there by title,
but the actions have fled.
Hands cupping a Samsung,
rather than your hand.
Their mind fixed to any and everything,
but a conversation with you.
Spend the whole day together,
with but a few, short replies.
Keep telling yourself,
it will improve.
In the blue light haze,
sitting right next to the love of your life,
feeling lonelier than ever.
Unable to express it,
for fear of retaliation.
So you sit there,
noting the confidence count
on the clothes you're wearing
isn't high enough for this.
So you stay silent,
wondering what's so captivating,
in the blue light.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
I admit the briar
Entangled in my hair
Did not injure me;
My blenching and trembling,
Nothing but dissembling,
Nothing but coquetry.
I long for truth, and yet
I cannot stay from that
My better self disowns,
For a man's attention
Brings such satisfaction
To the craving in my bones.
Brightness that I pull back
From the Zodiac,
Why those questioning eyes
That are fixed upon me?
What can they do but shun me
If empty night replies?
8.1k
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern, be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen
they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls? do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?
my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 23, 2018
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
The rooster sings to the sun,
answering the call is the light that embraces all.
All at once the birds sing their own song.
Awaken by mother's sweet voice.
"It's time to go" she says.
She hands me a green cubeta con maiz.
The corn's color is purple and white instantly
I fall in love with its kind
The cold blue morning gives me chills.
I carry the bucket to my grandmother's house.
With her mandil and her braided hair,
she sits by the comal making tortillas.
"Good morning abueltia" with a smile on my face.
"Good morning m'ija" she replies.
I keep walking carrying the heavy bucket.
A small room next to a store crowded with senoras.
Their rebozos around their heads and arms and buckets in hand.
I feel so small so young but inside I'm proud.
I wait in line as I greet and make small talk.
These ladies have the nicest smiles.
My turn, I grab my cubeta and proceed to the molino.
My arms are too little.
A lady approaches and helps me load the molino.
I watch in awe as the grains turn in masa.
I bend down and collect it.
"En una bolita" the lady tells me to shape it.
I nod and continue to make it.
Gray like the color of my grandma's hair.
soft like my mother's hand.
I fill the bucket with the masa.
I thank las senoras and head back to mi casa.
I hand the bucket to my mom who was milking la vaca.
She starts the comal and gets the cal.
Her hands slapping the masa like she was clapping.
Perfect big round warm tortillas.
I was a little girl that helped her make them.
A little girl that still remembers.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
I cut an avocado in half
and give one half to the visitor;
and I carefully scoop
the avocado
gently, gently
with a teaspoon
(the Aztec records show
this is, ahem! the fertility fruit)
and I savor each scoop
and eat like a pig
(ah well, like a graceful pig);
and at last
I have the skin left
in the palm of my hand
and it’s tough
and shaped like a boat;
and it has rained
and there’s a puddle of water
on the lawn
and an ant that’s been irritating me
wandering about on my naked foot
and I put the ant
in the avocado boat
and I set the boat in the puddle
and I give it a gentle push
and I say:
“Bon voyage, Monsieur!”
And then I look at my visitor,
and that silly guy is still staring at his half
and I ask, ever gently,
“Do you need help
with your fertility fruit there?”
The visitor replies, “No" –
and I wonder if I should get him brain food
or perhaps set him off on another avocado boat…
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 12:37 AM UTC
She said,
“My name is a flower, you see”
I said “Lily…it must be?”
She said, *“no, no, no!…
...a Lily…is soooo,
not as beautiful
as me”*
She replies
bashfully and wise
*I’m just as much beauty to the eyes
as I am to the nose.”*
“Oh!…you must be Rose”
She laughed
and cried more ‘no’s’
*“It sounds a little crazy
I know and maybe…
but you must be a Daisy??”*
she giggled all the more
“who knows?”
and winked
“.. if only baby”
Finally,
I put my thinking aside
I tell no lie,
while I, still in my head
wondering
she sighed
*”My names not ‘white’ or ‘plain’
‘Self raising’ “*, she said
”…is my name”.
Apr 30, 2024
Apr 30, 2024 at 5:04 AM UTC
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
Blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
(everyone always says red is my color).
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are.
Depression is accepting ruin in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
It is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the torment like a gift because you’ve earned it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking because
Depression is tying yourself together with the severed nerves in your heart;
It is rope, it is ribbon, it is thread, it is DNA;
It is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear,
And depression is sadness being a privilege you’re too pathetic to have.
It is a hug, a freezing touch, a reminder that
Depression is being birthed a lie.
And it is shutting yourself behind that wooden doorway
And hearing your family laugh like cackling hyenas,
Eating at your self esteem like softened prey
And learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love because
Depression is family.
It is an unfurnished home,
An empty frame,
A foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
you when life hasn't been broken in yet,
Seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with grins reaching their eyes while yours can’t, and wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine”
Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide.
It is the note masked inside of a poem,
Envisioning pills as if they were peace,
Depression is the last stanza,
It is the audience,
It is this microphone,
It is me standing in a room full of strangers
And for the first time finally feeling like I'm being heard.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway that keeps pounding, possessive, ****** but when you open the door out of anger and shout “I’M SCARED” to thin air, your voice comes out as a whisper.
And silently, the figure replies;
“I know your favorite color.”
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Permission to speak, I am the ally of the silenced and unheard.
I am the noise you can't shake.
Two sharp points like the accents I carry on my tongue.
I slither and squirm as I observe what they have done to you.
It's a tragedy what they think of you and how arrogantly they use you for self proclaimed prophecies.
No! I am not that! I yell loudly, but only the echo replies.
Incarceration, deportation, degradation, gentrification some of the words that burn as I spit them out.
False ideologies are accepted as realities ignoring the facts.
I am not illegal and you don't have the right to label or decide.
I am not a criminal, never was.
Don't obstruct my academic path, I will jump each and every obstacle one by one.
I was born free, you labeled and shackled me with lies and hatred but I broke loose.
With my forked tongue I battle your double sided knife.
I am not content with the destructive pattern that has emerged with your avarice.
I will not **** for you and I will not die in vain.
My snake like tongue has no mercy and will not cease until I see dignity and peace obtained.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
My dear,
We have
Lost your image!
Display your vivacity!
Unable to recall your voice!
Speak loudly,
Through dancing with wind!
Forget your fragrance!
Spread it through wave!
Unable to recall your colour !
Delighted with your blossoming flower!
******
She replies.......
How can I?
Your bulldozer relics us!
How can I?
Your buildings stifle us!
How can I ?
Burning fuel of your vehicle and machine,
Intimidated us!
How I can
You called us ****
How can I ....................?
*****
My dear
Our imp dominates us!
Please salvage us!
****
My dear
Please extend your hand
To clutch and revive us.........
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
When do I see thee most, beloved one?
When in the light the spirits of mine eyes
Before thy face, their altar, solemnize
The worship of that Love through thee made known?
Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,)
Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies
Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies,
And my soul only sees thy soul its own?
0 love, my love! if I no more should see
Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee,
Nor image of thine eyes in any spring,—
How then should sound upon Life’s darkening slope
The ground-whirl of the perished leaves of Hope,
The wind of Death’s imperishable wing?
6k
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
‘I have to go.’
She whispers and sighs into his ear.
Uncovers herself from the sheets
And slips from the bed.
*The clock reads three o’clock
The moon illuminates the bedroom
‘Why, baby?’*
He groans as he sits up
Trying to calm his harsh breathing
Wipes the sweat from his face.
*Shadows dance upon the white walls
Her silhouette moves towards the door
‘I have to return home to him.’*
She replies, her gaze falls to the floor
Reaching for the doorknob,
Filled with so much guilt.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC