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"reverbates" poems
Chopin's Nocturne opus 9, number 2 A sonorous performance, The mellow yet melancholic undertones of the masterpiece reverbates through the meadow From the reflective rubato streaking past the flowerbed, To the passionate conclusion in a whim, echoing through the garden, The garden in which a willow rests Its twigs holding a chalice in its embroidering, Twines glowing in the shimmering of the silver moon, Its dark-red fluids seeping from the cracks It gazes through the dark crevasses for an eternity, A panorama of planets and stars dwindling to dust as it stirs its nebulas, Clouding its view as in parallel, Universes as large as needle tips deteriorate to nothing There's just naught, nothing, nothingness, The black mass piercing, Puncturing the veins of the solemn soul wandering through the canyon Rubato, stringendo, it walks its own pace and in its solitude The moonlight its guide, the music its guardian The darkness its friend The walls enclosed - an impasse clad in an aural hue descending from the stars An eternal mirror flowing accross the pond It took a gander in the deep lagoon and saw the galaxy unfold Sparkling candenzas fluttering through the sky like fireflies Ever abiding, expanding galaxies within the grasp of its cortex The moon flows, the stream flows The sound of drizzling water emanating from the distance Timeless endeavour snaps back to reality I found myself sitting in a dim-lit room, glass in hand The mellow taste of the blood-red wine A bouquet of fine grapes with cherry undertones In the corner rests the mirror I gaze in occasionally Seconds pass and I gazed into an abyss Minutes pass and I gazed into an abyss A murky shadow lurking Hours pass and I gazed into an abyss A murky shadow along two red stars Days pass and I gazed into an abyss A silhouette hued in rubescence grimacing with hollow eyes Weeks pass and I gazed into an abyss T H E  E Y E S  W A T C H  M E  W H E R E V E R  I  G O Months pass and I observed a whole new universe As I looked at the crevice staring back at me It smiled and reached its hand Years pass and I gazed into an abyss The opaque mass piercing my glassy veil as familiarity reminiscences A supernova of grief and destruction strokes my back, pinching my neck The willow is dead The moon is red A brittle chalice crusted with blood Then it fell silent and yet the nocturne faintly lingered in my head As I stared into the mirror for the first time in centuries It stared back, bearing the most unnerving grimace
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Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 7:17 PM UTC
Niitiuu
The fellow reflections
Chopin's Nocturne opus 9, number 2 A sonorous performance, The mellow yet melancholic undertones of the masterpiece reverbates through the meadow From the reflective rubato streaking past the flowerbed, To the passionate conclusion in a whim, echoing through the garden, The garden in which a willow rests Its twigs holding a chalice in its embroidering, Twines glowing in the shimmering of the silver moon, Its dark-red fluids seeping from the cracks It gazes through the dark crevasses for an eternity, A panorama of planets and stars dwindling to dust as it stirs its nebulas, Clouding its view as in parallel, Universes as large as needle tips deteriorate to nothing There's just naught, nothing, nothingness, The black mass piercing, Puncturing the veins of the solemn soul wandering through the canyon Rubato, stringendo, it walks its own pace and in its solitude The moonlight its guide, the music its guardian The darkness its friend The walls enclosed - an impasse clad in an aural hue descending from the stars An eternal mirror flowing accross the pond It took a gander in the deep lagoon and saw the galaxy unfold Sparkling candenzas fluttering through the sky like fireflies Ever abiding, expanding galaxies within the grasp of its cortex The moon flows, the stream flows The sound of drizzling water emanating from the distance Timeless endeavour snaps back to reality I found myself sitting in a dim-lit room, glass in hand The mellow taste of the blood-red wine A bouquet of fine grapes with cherry undertones In the corner rests the mirror I gaze in occasionally Seconds pass and I gazed into an abyss Minutes pass and I gazed into an abyss A murky shadow lurking Hours pass and I gazed into an abyss A murky shadow along two red stars Days pass and I gazed into an abyss A silhouette hued in rubescence grimacing with hollow eyes Weeks pass and I gazed into an abyss T H E  E Y E S  W A T C H  M E  W H E R E V E R  I  G O Months pass and I observed a whole new universe As I looked at the crevice staring back at me It smiled and reached its hand Years pass and I gazed into an abyss The opaque mass piercing my glassy veil as familiarity reminiscences A supernova of grief and destruction strokes my back, pinching my neck The willow is dead The moon is red A brittle chalice crusted with blood Then it fell silent and yet the nocturne faintly lingered in my head As I stared into the mirror for the first time in centuries It stared back, bearing the most unnerving grimace
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