Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
1665

I know of people in the Grave
Who would be very glad
To know the news I know tonight
If they the chance had had.

’Tis this expands the least event
And swells the scantest deed—
My right to walk upon the Earth
If they this moment had.
907

Till Death—is narrow Loving—
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of Finiteness—be spent—

But He whose loss procures you
Such Destitution that
Your Life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate—

Until—Resemblance perfect—
Yourself, for His pursuit
Delight of Nature—abdicate—
Exhibit Love—somewhat—
That’s a sad story sighed the man
Sitting some stairs down the ghat
Made his life miserable the woman
She fully broke the zamindar’s heart.

He loved her more than his life
She knew not love was what thing
Cursed the day he took her as his wife
Gave her a precious diamond ring.

He bought her each wish from her lip
She knew she would only have to tell
For her the man’s love was so deep
He could sell him to bring her all jewels.

For each night she made her bargain
Trapped him her greed’s deadly deal
Blind love drove the man such insane
He became a puppet of her will.

The coming storm he couldn’t foresee
Enamored in love and its waste
Good money was sunk freely
With no reaping of scantest harvest.

His trade started suffering huge loss
Investments sunk in shipwreck
Along came to make the matter worse
Debts’ tightened noose on his neck.

Soon she left with a man she had known
Taking with her the ornaments
She had never thought him as her man
Little did she care his torments.

Still echoes said the man his cry
From here he went to the river
In evenings as this his sigh
Can be heard rending the air.

I asked him how all these he knew
Saw no man but I was alone
Shivering in winter’s cool dew
As moonlight on waves quietly shone.
AOk Jan 2019
Well, yes.

I am Sisyphus.

But baby, no one said you had to help.

In fact, *******.
I got this.

I mean, it's my mother-*******-rock.
I should know,
I picked it.

And yes,
I will push it up this *******-hill
over, and over, and over, and over again.

Just for the split-second that it sticks.

For that hairs breadth between me and death.

For the longing that steamed off my coffee this morning
as I stole a few blinks to catch up on my yawning.

For that smile that propenses
every time your lip tenses
as it sweetly condenses
the-thought of a kiss.

For the way
all your eyelashes
whisper
'just this'

For the moon
in the sky
in the stars
up-above.

For the fact that the Earth
is the Moon's only/love.

Cuz at the beginning of time
when their names nearly rhymed,
Oh the Moon,
she spun
fast-as-a-top.

So close to the locus
the Earth couldn't focus
onthat sweet-swallowed-secret
that Reva-in-Rock.

So the Moon was embarrassed!

Cuz the Earth couldn't see
just how beautiful cavernous moon-dust could be
and-Yeah
cleverer/lovers might have found other/druthers
but that Moon, she's as shy as can be.

So she took a step back.

In the hopes that this tact
might help her sweet-lady to see
the slow unfolding of her smile
an expansion of existence
to put infinity to trial
and every singularity
hidden in her grin
held a small
hiccup-of-hope
to the edges of its skin
cuz the scantest
scrap-of-chance
that this ruse might just still win
makes the act of
pitching-woo
look a little like a sin
but-****
don't it
Feel-Divine?

Just give me time.

I will find your lines and cross them.

If you let me laugh with you
I'll help you see how ******* me
is like eating the space between the phrase
'I-double-dog-dare-you'
and the word
'please'

You can't blame a Beast for Being
when existing is the only thing it owns and
honing-that-ferocious tends to try-the-tamer
cuz this
exercise-in-earthly
will never make me saner.

I got a-Beast.
With bones that moan.

She sleeps inside a cold-cave-stone,
don't-gather-no-moss.

She spends moonlights roaming countrysides,

and pushing rocks
to prove she's live.
Jane Jul 2021
Tides are changing and the moon's pull draws breath from my lungs, refilling my body, bouyant

And as I lie there in the achingly frigid water I am overwhelmed by the exhaustion barely kept at bay, sinking

Pausing for a moment opens the floodgates and I am pulled downward as the weight of my world pins me to the floor, stagnant

How much longer can I continue this path of distraction, ruining myself from inside out, purging only the scantest of my full grief, simmering

It won't take much more to topple this body of cards, no tarot reading necessary to define my tears, flooding

— The End —