"slighted" poems
love,
the most destructive
vulnerability
obstructed by the custom
of guarded humility
that can never pursue
any interest in purity
to keep the living whole
in peace and endless security
oh, violent vulnerability
slighted by my words
whom betray nothing
of my heart's mind
but clear cut diamonds
of the coolest civility
for mild understanding
to chain the enraged truth
seeking to speak
through these irises
the purest contradiction
to the ice burning skin
Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 9:58 PM UTC
Dusk. I won't paint you another sunset,
another beautiful striped sea; no, not today.
Picture instead a smooth discolored surface
on which a firmly gripped stone was roughly
ground, causing a painful chalky screech; the
misemployed rock left vague yellow scars and
lavender bruises on the horizon; the sun cowers
behind them fearfully, distraught by the undue
violence; this is the sunset I experienced at
your fragrant side, and wondered - not unlike
that astre - what could possibly justify the
yellow, spectral scars in my heart, the bright,
undue violence brought upon my pride, and
the slighted sunset in my soul. This is Dusk.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
A thousand tumbles takes a bottle in the sea-
a thousand dashes and whirls and swoops.
A million grains of sand takes that bottle in the sea,
to break apart, to come to me
in fragments like a snowflake fractal.
How many mermaid miles till she hands that glass to me?
For I've taken out my very-ness, for you.
- And my crossness.
My judgement and wrath.
I've taken out slight hot breathe
(for you to melt the ice on your whiskers.)
I've taken out my toes when they are reaching for yours in the cavernous blanket world through the forest of our lazy limbs.
I've taken out my righteousness
and my second guessing.
I've taken out for you (a surprise, I was going to surprise you!)
all the times you were going to be wrong to me-
and to wrong me...
taken them out to sea, you see?
In that bottle, pretty bottle. Broken now like too many vows.
I've taken out my knowing best and finding better.
I've taken out the half moon of your thumbnail as well
...I will miss that in my night sky-
(perhaps I'll keep that after all.)
I'll take out the complacency of holding your hand getting out of a chair.
and the mindless strokes
as you explain
my commonplace crazy
to
simpler minds-
I'll take out the very-ness of me, and the we-ness of us.
and fill a bottle with a the brine of a thousand tears from hundred slights not slighted quite yet.
I fill the bottle and gift the sea
with the softness of you and the brashness of me.
A thousand turnabouts it takes to reach you on the beach,
a sea glass diamond ring, engage me you engaging man-
and the tides tickles my feet in anticipation, marry me. marry me.
just a sea glass promise
for a mermaid bride
waiting for the sailor man to sing her sweetly with salt on his lips
Just a sea glass lullaby from the man who loves me so.
Marry me, marry me
And we drink sparkling water from a sea glass flute
and we drink all the us and we drink all the we
for sea glass could never hold a second in,
sea glass is far too vain not to shine in the sun fanning
your invite out in a spectrum of color that
a small child's hand creates when he holds it up to the rays.
Spills out all of my intentions
Spoiled child, loved child,
Spills out all of my intentions carelessly on the sandy floor for the tides to swallow whole.
My sea glass prism chucked unceremoniously back to sea
and me the mermaid bride left at her own alter...
But a seashell to your ear and her my wailing sorrow calls,
'marry me, sailor. marry me.'
sahn 8/5/14
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
On blythe Yule Night when we were fu’,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie coost her head fu’ high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan sighed baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer’t and blin’,
Spak o’ lowpin ower a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Time and Chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie dee?
She may *** to -France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
How it comes let Doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Something in her ***** wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;
And O her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Duncan was a lad o’ grace,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie’s was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling Pity smoored his Wrath;
Now they’re crouse and canty baith,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
4.1k
It is quite interesting
The way in which women can proceed through life,
In such a grossly hypocritical manner.
Scorning love,
And mocking their lovers openly,
As if to say, your feelings don't count,
Only to later on raise their voices in condemnation
Of their slighted partner,
Thereby proving that they are without a doubt
The far more dishonest
And petty, of the sexes.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
They'll find me hanging upside-down.
Ankles bruised by the ropes
From which you strung me up for field dressing.
Lacerations where you’d cut my throat,
Bled me dry, spilt my guts,
And broke past my ribs, to uproot my heart.
Can they carbon date the remains of my reputation?
Trace the ****** back to your mouth?
Will they know the cause of death to be the
Malignant rumors you couldn’t help but spew?
Your false words: the final nail in my coffin.
Do you regret ever letting them past your lips?
Slowly, my reputation crippled by the aggressive
Cancer that was your embellished utterance.
And it didn’t bother you in the slightest.
You marveled at the sight of my struggle.
And amazing how these things seem to spread.
One caustic, contagious, breath from you was all it took.
Though the slanderous virus wouldn't make it 'til morning;
Addicts to their fix; gossips, crave your empty words.
Like ******* the rush is intense but brief.
Interest fleeting, they move on.
Off to the next peddler.
For all these inconveniences, I thank you.
Thank you for lifting the masks that curtained your distorted self.
How blind I must have been not to see it outright.
Another leech, feeding on slighted words.
And to think; all it costed you to buy in
Was me...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Perhaps we were both waiting
for words to come from the speechless;
with our hands outstretched, feeling
for some infinite nebula we called love.
I liked the way you saw form in the formless,
a dreamer from the sleeping,
and the ghost from the living
(But the real ghosts and dreamers were us)
Sea-sorrow would sink our ships of wander-lust
And we'd rebuild with planks of heartache;
new sails of empathy and a hull big enough
for everything else in between
Some moments were better than others,
Some forgettable, others memorable
your lips, my eyes, your skin, my skies;
the cavities of silence in our conversations.
I remember, when you tried to blink away the sea-change
Rubbing waves of apathy, so endless
and unrelenting, from your face
Watching you fight the tempest moved me
and my lungs took in so much sin
It made my bones ache with guilt;
the fire of my desires, the prison of my soul.
Perhaps we were both waiting
for the proverbial hand, that infinite warmth,
to reach down from the heavens.
The hand that moulded us;
the hand we slighted for love.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
The Avenger from Oklahoma
she was a doll faced little lady
looking so demure looking so sweet
she would bat her eyes and smile
and then knock you off your feet
you see she was the avenger
looking for men who had done wrong
she carried a snub-nosed 38
and she would blow you away for a song
seems her sister had been slighted
left all alone and broken hearted
threw herself out of the window
and Annie finished what she started
she found the ******* who slighted her sis
made him fall for her with her magic lips
she shot him in his own bedroom
and walked away swinging her hips
but that wasn't the end of her journey
she decided revenge her life's passion
making heart breakers pay the price
working as a model in design and fashion
she would lure in all the playboys
make them melt with her charms
and just when they were ready to cash in
she'd put a bullet in each of his arms
she would disappear into the night
keeping the cops off her trail
her legend went on for over 20 years
most swearing it was just a fantasy tale
Gomer Lepoet...
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
Reaching out for what delivers its existence
The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun
An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment
Forever longing anxiously for that connection
The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly
Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another
Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you
Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched
Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs
Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape
Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge
Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home
Like the sun now churning our eager energy
Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need
Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation
Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation
Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance
Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment
A base for these unbridled electrical impulses
The quintessence of our fusion now realized
We are the union of two wandering forces
Ignition progresses affectionate meditations
Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments
Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles;
O goddess, from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.
If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferred,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
A gentle goddess, hear me now.
Descend, thou bright immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confessed.
Thou once didst leave almighty Jove
And all the golden roofs above:
The car thy wanton sparrows drew,
Hovering in air they lightly flew;
As to my bower they winged their way
I saw their quivering pinions play.
The birds dismissed (while you remain)
Bore back their empty car again:
Then you, with looks divinely mild,
In every heavenly feature smiled,
And asked what new complaints I made,
And why I called you to my aid?
What frenzy in my ***** raged,
And by what cure to be assuaged?
What gentle youth I would allure,
Whom in my artful toils secure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?
Though now he shuns thy longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms;
Though now thy offerings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;
Though now he freezes, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore.
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distempered soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart desires.
2.7k
Sometimes you see her admiring herself
In the mirror that's hanging next to the shelf.
And when she does it, oh, how she shines!
Is that, dear cat, how you practice your lines?
She seems not to care if we pay attention,
But maybe right here I ought to make mention
That being an actress, she's disinclined
To always reveal what's going on in her mind.
And she'll never, never tell you her age--
Aphrodite, the cat of the stage.
She says, "You know…I'm not one to cuss,
But when I am hungry, I WILL make a fuss."
Yes, she can certainly put on a scene
And act as though she's an importunate queen.
She says, "My dears, if I'm weak or mild,
I'll never drive the audience wild."
That critical scene is repeated each night--
A regular tour de force all right.
Yes, it's best to try to assuage
Aphrodite, the cat of the stage.
Her eyes were surely her greatest feature;
She THUS scoured the town for a drama teacher,
"Who," she says dolefully, "told me one night he
Could make me a star. ME: Aphrodite!"
But as it turned out, ol' Mr. Mittens
Made her instead a mom of eight kittens.
"But," she says, "THAT'S between you and me.
You know how I like my privacy."
It's good to always be on the same page
With Aphrodite, the cat of the stage.
One thing you learn is for her it's the norm
To act a bit slighted when asked to perform.
She must be totally in the mood
Or else she behaves in a manner subdued.
And heaven help you if you are neglectful
Of if her audience is disrespectful.
She'll exit the room like a "cat" out of hell,
And you may not see her for quite a long spell.
You never want to see her rage--
Aphrodite, the cat of the stage.
She sighs and says, "It's such a shame that
Few playwrights write good roles for a cat.
My friends say--when they see me upset--
'Commercials might be a better bet.'
My talents, however, as you might have guessed,
Best fit the stage. But now I must rest."
With that she lifted her nose in the air
And strutted out of the room with great flair.
It's always nice: advice from a sage
Like Aphrodite, the cat of the stage.
-by Bob B (1-24-20)
Jan 25, 2020
Jan 25, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
<!>
Four Irises tall & gallant, looking though
slighted worn out, a tad bedraggled
they are springtime survivor stragglers
of the Great Spring Weather Battle.
living in an open trench, battle conditions,
wind-whipped by constant strong breezes,
raked by intermittent machine gun rain,
familiar weapons of the “handover” season
loyal guardians of their pinpoint position,
remaining on duty, standing at attention,
dignified amidst the serene, nearly summer, now,
accepting quietude & gratitude of surround soundings
arrow-straight, in dress uniforms of royally purple,
four lead a cohort of unbloomed green fellows,
protecting their charge, an ancient marker of time,
rusted-green bronze sundial, symbol of continuity
these four, boon companions to human and animal,
shall persist long after I cease to dabble in this art,
they greet their admirers in full regalia, every year,
long, long may they live, die and be yet reborn!
here, in place, when we arrived four decades ago, a tiny forever,
changelings heading a processional of the summer season,
greeting all with a simple story of constance of change, of beauty,
leading our Summertime Commencement Exercises
May 26 ~ 27, 2023
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
my goddess dies each dawn
with the rising of the sun
and is reborn; renewed
in the sick, slighted
mannerism she awakens.
even with noticeable differences
the sky projects her face
as she lightens my burdens
and burdens my nights
with her glowing.
this shining has come for time
that it's been needed
where i've stood; judged
for the sinful mannerism
of my paganism.
but you're lost in the twilight;
daydreaming
in the middle of the night
that day will break the dark
and again, you'll see.
i've never needed any light
for my goddess is here;
she's been for ages
and she will be
once i'm gone.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 5:12 AM UTC
I, in sorrow forever live and swell.
A thousand pangs and more each hour.
Alone to wait and weep for misery's bell
And bleed in Hell's Stygian bower.
Marred by silence, marred alone,
Obsequies possessed and slighted.
Death in heart, death in home,
But, my love, redemption, sighted.
The beauteous Cherub, me heart adored,
From the arms of Nyx delivered;
My bliss forever with her restored
And from our love, death did slither.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
(Proverbs, viii. 22-31)
"Ere God had built the mountains,
Or raised the fruitful hills;
Before he fill'd the fountains
That feed the running rills;
In me from everlasting,
The wonderful I am,
Found pleasures never wasting,
And Wisdom is my name.
"When, like a tent to dwell in,
He spread the skies abroad,
And swathed about the swelling
Of Ocean's mighty flood;
He wrought by weight and measure,
And I was with Him then:
Myself the Father's pleasure,
And mine, the sons of men."
Thus Wisdom's words discover
Thy glory and Thy grace,
Thou everlasting lover
Of our unworthy race!
Thy gracious eye survey'd us
Ere stars were seen above;
In wisdom thou hast made us,
And died for us in love.
And couldst thou be delighted
With creatures such as we,
Who, when we saw Thee, slighted,
And nail'd Thee to a tree?
Unfathomable wonder,
And mystery divine!
The voice that speaks in thunder,
Says, "Sinner, I am thine!"
2k
Already seven cars,
I pull in late.
Put my keys by the candles
and stare at the lake.
Sit down, sip your wine.
What's in? Where have you been?
How long since?
You never drop a line.
You must be busy.
I avoid your gaze
and your hand grazes
my thigh and brings us
eye to eye.
Ready for the bar,
we barely ate.
No shame in
the champagne
I consume,
but I assume
it's the fine wine
I spewed all over the ballroom.
Took it too far,
it's getting late.
You don't want me to stay.
Uninvited,how you always
made me feel anyways.
Turn in slighted, ******* futon.
Last time we met
we slept side by side,
you and me, two reasons to care.
The letter and the locket
you kept and tried to hide,
I think I need some fresh air.
light a cig and figure some things are better left unsaid.
Always tempted to trigger thoughts long dead.
Staring at you, asleep in your bed, linen, lace.
I always was a ***** case.
Your thoughts leak out of your head, thin in space.
I find them on your face.
Better not be here when you wake,
the next time we meet it'll be too late,
so hey, by the way,
you looked beautiful today.
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 10:35 PM UTC
I remember what we used to have
Hang outs,
On the couch
Cuddle fests
With nothing but your neck to nest
And nuzzle on the other’s.
Head rests
And hands link
Subtle winks
Nothing surpasses this.
But when you say what you said
And want to “take a break”
To me that means a rest
A rest from it all
And this was for your sake.
So i took the space
You needed
Feeded your mind and heart
With the gap holding us apart
So you could get the perspective you desired.
And a part of me admired you for it.
But now that you revealed
That youre back with him
I have nothing short of fury
And i want to bury
My feelings
And act like it doesnt matter
Act like i dont have a heart
I dont hear it in my chest
There’s no pitter patter.
Because now i feel tricked and empty.
You didnt want an end
And i stupidly agreed.
That taking a leave would be best
Little did i know
Upon my return, id be blessed
With the knowledge of you and your ex
reunited.
I feel slighted.
Because you didnt want a break
You wanted a break UP.
Because who ever wants a break?
She
Apparently.
Its a shame to me she didnt know the difference.
And didnt have the heart to tell me they were back together…
Until now.
And now
There WAS a break...
because We’re broken.
And i dont know how to mend it.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
I was not invited
So I didn't come
Feeling sad and slighted
My thoughts begin to run.......
................................
Meaningless and worthless
Fate spun it's unforgiving wheel
Leaving a life that's mirthless
Dealing sorrow with gleeful zeal
I find myself alone again
The wheel can only spin around
Ending where it begins
On familiar battleground
On my shoulder sets the crow
Memories continually fanned
Very slowly I sink below
Standing firmly in quicksand
©Pauline Russell
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
I’m in the same place as all of yous, but I’m absent minded and got misanthropic contempt, like anthropomorphic deer by the highway watching Cadillac surgery. But deep cardiac compassion, all you idiots are inside of me, lashing out with lively love. Scorns used to scar, but now I smile. **** the struggle you’re on, and put your shoes on the final platform. It’s not truth mama, it’s death. Have you tried it? Me either, we’re both among breathers. Now, tell me about your facts in expressions unconditioned by human history. Tell me about those bats on your shoulders that babble obscenities like Black Beard’s parrot, named ****** He speaks not of this century, so his ***** are now children’s songs, sung around plastic bonfires, trying to roast electrical socket covers. To no avail.
Born human mightiest
Socially slighted and far-sighted
Let’s bash through hierarchy
I said bash
you P.C. crusader
cold as a computer
slaughtering the people’s good language
in the name of removing something savage
instead of asserting a new image
A true sign of the artist
but I’m no artist
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Six girls.
Four bunk beds.
Freshman year.
College.
We are all nervous.
Elbows and knees. Awkward.
Like being packed into a cattle car.
Rewind 6 years.
Homeless, living in the back of a minivan.
Three children, and our mother.
Sleeping together in a single motel bed
Nervous for morning.
Elbows and knees.
I am built for building.
Made to create.
Hands like carpenters, I make a home out of anywhere I go.
Learned to carry it on my back.
To take things with me.
And now, I am almost nineteen year old and I have been living out of boxes for the past two months.
Out of containers filled with my own clothing.
I feel like I can’t find stillness.
Or have silence.
I haven’t been alone in two months.
I am sleeping with the lights on.
They call this temporary housing,
For all the students who applied late.
Like me.
But I didn't think I would be here.
But I was raised poor,
remember the minivan,
so a free college education tasted like..
Like you’re starving, and your mom’s food stamps haven’t came in yet, and you’re at the grocery store,
and its Saturday,
and they’re handing out free samples.
And I feel lucky.
And I feel blessed.
And I feel grateful.
And I feel slighted.
And I feel frustrated.
And I feel tired.
And I feel angry.
Angry that I am this easy to tear down.
That I am ticker tape,
salvage yard,
construction zone.
That the four walls of the home I've tried to build inside of myself can be so easily burned down.
Can be destroyed.
A fire alarm in my chest, and a flooded basement.
That I can’t find peace in the only home I've ever had.
There are motel signs.
Blinking,
three am,
and my mother’s credit card is being declined.
And my little sister won’t stop crying.
And we are in a homeless shelter when I’m 6.
And we’re in another when I’m 8.
And another when I’m 13.
I’m 19 in a few months,
And this dorm feels like another one.
And I’m convinced they build these places, on purpose.
Temporarily temporary.
To show us how temporary we all are.
That we can’t take anything with us.
That I can't take anything with me.
Where ever it is that I am going.
Where ever it is that I might end up.
I’m just praying..
Praying there is a warm bed to sleep in when I get there.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
Miseo
Something I had never thought I'd feel
Towards you
Against you
The other side of my coin
Miseo
In the depth of my heart
My thoughts
Burning up the back of my throat
Stinging-tainted
Raw
Miseo
Whispered
Echoing in my Psyche
Slighted where I never thought I could be
My friend
Miseo
In the softest part
Tender, needy
Pathetically -gullible
Miseo
To you who were suppose to hold me
When the world fell down
Shattered
And buried me
When love faltered
And I am at my loneliest
Thelo
How I had hoped
Prayed
I who never believed in much
That you were true
That you were something special
A treasure worth keeping
Not marked up-overpriced trash
Like the rest of the world
Miseo
The part of me
Longing
For you
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC
by
rgpage
together with my thoughts at last
i sit alone and wonder why.
i lived so loosely in the past
that now all hopes in life must die.
in youth i carried goals to be
with all the power that i had then.
the skies were blue and cloudless seas
and every day would bring new friends.
as i grew older love would fade
for this life so richly lived.
my thoughts of friends would soon abate
as would the trust in them i’d give.
the skies turned dark and threatened rain
and so for shelter my soul would run.
caring not who’s in my way
caring only now to see the sun.
the bellies of the clouds turned black
i stood alone to face my fate.
the fear went surging down my back
i looked for help some open gate.
the doors all closed from my own deeds
i’d slighted people in the past.
no one was there in time of need
so alone i faced this foe at last.
death did not come to my surprise
although my soul was scarred by rain.
i looked up toward the clearing skies
in hopes of life to start again.
the skies did clear and life i’d find
i lived again for friends i yearned.
i relived youth but for a time
until those clouds of rain returned.
those lonely clouds why do they come
what is this life that i must live?
why can’t there only be the sun
and why can’t trust i always give?
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Immortal, Immortal, my very own Immortal, can you still even hear me? I wanted to mention another, but instead I am calling out your name.
Immortal. That is how I always called you, little darling; you really are like a little darling, with your bulbous brown eyes and solid red mouth. With your sweet-flavoured jokes and archaic compulsions. You are like a buoyant flower that often speaks from its inside. You smell just like the black sweater you are always encircled in; you smell like one array of strawberries, lavenders, and musk blended into one wondrous potion. Ha-ha. You are wild; you are free; you are the inborn sweat of stormy nature itself. But to me you are the one chosen. You are like a youth that never blossoms; a sky that knows not the litter of adulthood. You are my sweet, my elegance, my butterfly.
But you always failed to catch a butterfly. Once there was one who briefly landed on your shoulder; in an attempt to hurl his little self back into the solidarity of the skies. You sang about the whole world like the moon did; but you were never incarcerated within your universe. Instead, you created even a more passionate one.
Immortal, Immortal, where are but you, my love? I peruse His verses and cite His name every day; in order that you feel my affection and touch even just the slighted shadow of mine, in your dreams. Bygone memories are still rowing within my head; and as their sheen touches my lips; I am sure I shall see you again, when He decrees. Ah, Immortal, how I want to see you become pure; and unite yourself with Him within his fortress, my love flowing beside you, freeing you from this world's ungodly torture.
Obicham te. I miss you, my dear, more than hysteria can assume; nor any disparity can have thought of. My morning dew, my noon, my sunset, all are but attended in thee.
Obicham te. Obicham te. Obicham te.
I miss you so much. Sadly, perhaps you'll never know that.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
from the high balcony,
when i view
the cityscape is still
under the spell of chill.
early morning mist
the happy daughters of winter,
dance in an intoxicated mood,
swirling, twisting and quickly changing mind,
in a lively display of female grace,
now running away to dance
with romantic wind,
meeting confidently his challenge.
then the sun, red faced, impatient
tries to force his way in,
the female power of mist is now evident,
his attempts didn't that much succeed,
these lithe maiden won't stand
his macho attitude, it's amply clear.
Slighted sun awaits
the mirth of mist to subdue,
the moment they get tired.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC