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Jay Ojha Apr 2017
Once again to pen my thoughts down
I had no option but to come hither
What follows from now on,
Is all about A Walk To Remember.

So, now to let the story unfold
A story different from the ones you have been told
That Saturday night, I made a decision somewhat bold
Which was to surprise her, an idea very exciting but old.

11th of April it was, I was told
And down those dimly lit streets, I speedily strolled
Unaware of the memories I would earn, in that night so cold
Memories, one can say, way more precious than jewels of gold.

Now, let’s change the scheme of the rhyme
I want you to be patient, wait for the next line
Yes, I had reached the right place, at the right time
But witnessing her absence, I fell off cloud nine
Cursing the bad luck, as it would always be mine.

I sat rooted to the bench like some weak-stemmed vine
Glaring at the gates, and on the empty bench sitting confined
Waiting for her, as the clock had already struck nine
I saw her walk in, to notice the charisma redefined
But not to forget, she was late this time.

Lost in thoughts, she walked straight past me
Grooving to the music, she circled the park
I felt the urge to stand up, I couldn’t let it be
I walked up to her, surprised as she was
Her breathtaking smile tore me apart
When she looked up to me, I felt a spark
While crackers kept bursting in my heart
I failed to understand why all around me, it was still dark.

Spellbound I was, as she was alongside,
She told me all about the day, but she had something to hide,
I couldn’t hold myself back from looking her in the eyes,
When I should have been busy stopping those tears of joy from rolling by.

In those attempts to embrace her fears and make her smile,
I could swim for years, up the longest Nile.
We were tired and decided to sit for a while.
In those moments of silence, my heart sighed,
As the wind hit my face, which was on a high.
My heart managed to sink in the ocean of happiness
When I realized time flows, swiftly by,
And it was time, time to say goodbye.

The idea of a goodbye had me tombed
When my heart cried, “Think of an excuse you *****!”
I asked if I could drop her home
And we walked towards the place, she would call her own.
I stood there to catch every possible glimpse of her
And long before the reality I had known,
She was gone. Man! She was gone!

My words sought an escape in an attempt forlorn,
"Thank you for all that you have done
You've always been a giver and never expected anything in return
I want you to have all that you want
All that you have dreamt of, ever,
I promise that I'll be with you, always and forever.
Thank you because now I own the beautiful memories,
Of this night which truly gave me, A Walk To Remember."
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy?
Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free.
Then, beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse,
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
    Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
    Which usèd, lives th’ executor to be.
Styles 12 Dec 2018
I saw you between buildings
working in sun
network of light
letting liberty reconnect.

Wires buzzed
high voltage streamed inside them
darkness questioned its own shades
sparks dripped into night's gulf.

Fervent as LIGHTNING
lathering rooftops
sizzling bolts spying timber
smothering scars.

I saw you tunnel down
infinite pure light
shattered by solitude
entering bold, courageous

down into dark mines
soldier who never stumbles
suspending notes caressed in silence
protecting seeds, engaged by yearning

I watched you grow
twisting up
gnawed by roots and rocks
begging for water

circling wider than galaxies
melting skin, taking down drapes
promising to visit me
in tombed up places


dizzy as smoke
curled up by desire
amnesia searching for identity
drafted by absolute fire

changless architect
rerouting for change
vicious as dawn rising in Saturn
gentle as mist leaking from
her melted eyes

swallowing his compassion
vanquished revenge to steam
her savage attack whirled
in amorous sheets.

I felt you unveil arousing
every heartsick wish
blasted down by wailing wills
puddles of December gathering

reflecting on above
while drowning below
who is it speaking kindness
after rippling screams uprooted trees

volley my soul
back and forth
between worlds
consume this spark

encircle your breath
with goading light
dancing inbetween
two ruined buildings

I listened to rocks slurring for mountain
I heard trees lust for water
I felt the cries of troubled voices
flare across two highways

rerouted by dark and light.
neth jones Aug 2022
the immersion in media
i feel weaponized
part of an inhuman condition
a heated communal militia head space
gilded with fear but splintered of opinions
sperming             in  a  holding  pattern  
like fish in a overpopulated aquarium
we're stunning ourselves on the sides
batting at it to for an expansion
frenzy of communication
but other life continues
seemingly untainted
indifferent
certainly
see !
the
birds
aviate
and i feel
there is reassurance
the worlds life will outlast us
what's the worst that we could do ?
we'll  not  be    taking  it  to  our  grave ;
a pharaoh      tombed with ornamental company
Buzz Feb 2014
A true stranger
Bedazzling in your mysteriousness
One could wonder the secrets you tombed in
The taste of a new world? Perhaps?
Or just another common jewel
Being traded frequently at the market

The air you give in
Exotic, really
The colours you draw in
Flows with uniqueness
But the way you sway
The way you mingle
Limited to certain
Could it be?

Well, that's just great
The beauty of an angel
But her pompousness is in the way
A bitter taste to a delectable cake
A mighty spoil to a great scenery
Perhaps I been aiming high
Time to start from the bottom again
No
everything is going to sink.
the bubbles of air will sink
the troubles will sink
rocks will break my toes
twine will sew back together
you cannot save me
you will only sink if you jump in
you will only sink.
The price of a life will drop
the money in coins will sink
the paper will rip
but mine will bloom
like a flower filled with blood
because we both bleed red
mine is like syrup
yours is like oil

i will sink.
The colors they will sink too.
my soul It will collapse under pressure.
my life will escape before the last breathe.
but it will only sink further.
like passengers in submarines
we will cry salt.
we will pray for a savior
but he
he will only sink.
your love is oil
but I am tombed in a bottle.
Lee Janes Dec 2012
Strength in this green abyss my poet give me,
Endurin' stale air mashed with ticks of time
Who still tombed beneath my mind with plea,
Beg, release, carry thee through field's sublime.
As if floatin' high on a cloud cushion'd white
Starrin' with hoverin' gulls cupp'd on gentle breeze hands,
Spreadin' views of meadows lush over a dreaméd sight,
To see this myself to vision myself over glorious lands.
The work of the poet not unlike scolded skin to turn red,
Touch softly the area around ruby's tender heat'd glow,
Takes my tedium with magic guile from out my head,
Soothes the burn with lotion, easin' my throbbing sorrow.
I throw, with all lovin' intent a polite gesture to thee,
For this my poet and for this throw one back to me.
Choose! For the Nymph's Androgynous Sake, choose!
Stubble your Scent once this Customised Path
And not from which we prefer to disprove
Which only conceals your justified Wrath
For Harmony - the Toll which Fame does pay
Eats you Alive; And Life indebts your Due
Of we but Spleened Mortals know no other way
But build whatever Blocks we have of you
Smart-Tombed, then, your vast Executive's Plot
Eager for your Rebels assassinate
Even with Healing Truths they ply a-lot
Once lock-bites apply, it will be too late.
Or perhaps alone, your Conscience ignore
These Girls cry your Tissues; And nothing more.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
jiminy-littly Mar 2019
when the mind becomes numb

a skull can be dissected to show its cavities

cavities are the orbit of the eyes

an old Indian saying?


I noticed you really just want to annihilate me

not comfort you.

There is a blood meal in me
ready to explode  

a tombed implosion

an imprisoned womb.


But it's too late for that

time is personal

and lately, voices.

I fear the indecipherable is now decipherable

I see in Moriah, Jonah, and Tyler, incredible nations

Cree, why didn't you listen to me!

can you ******* saliva?
get over it!

you know
the skull was dissected to show the cavities of the orbit of the suns.
Justination Oct 7
In the garden where dreams once bloomed
Silent shadows of hope are tombed
Fractured petals drift in the breeze
Whispers of what could have been with ease

Each choice a step on a winding road
Laden with burdens, a heavy load
The laughter once bright now tinged with doubt
As echoes of plans unravel, fade out

A painter's brush, once bold and free
Now hesitates where colors disagree
A canvas flaws with streaks of gray
Reflects the heart, led astray

In the dance of days, we stumble and sway
Navigating the ruins of dreams gone astray
With every misstep, a lesson unfolds
In the carpet woven with threads of gold

Yet in failures clutch, we learn to arise
Through broken paths, we grow wise
For in each setback, a spark ignites
In the darkest of nights we reclaim our light

So raise a glass to the roads untraveled
To the hopes once cherished, now unraveled
For life's failures are chapters, not the end
In the grand story, they help us amend

Embrace the flaws, the bends and breaks
In the ashes of sorrow, resilience awakes
With every setback, let courage ignite
For the heart still beats and the dawn brings new light
Michael King May 2018
He is fearless but not brave.
A servant.  Not a slave.
A hater, not a hoper.
It's true.

Though he shines,  the light's shallow.
A barren lamplight so hollow.
A shadow destined to be shamed
and broken.

Take for instance his great burden.
Is this a cross?  Or a warden
of a state which is true...
Is it really?

But he holds together surely
as his spirit's dying, purely
just to show he can last
a year more.

Yet the taint of his upbringing
causes disease which starts singing
in his lungs and his heart
and his mind's eye.

So when he speaks,  close your please.
When he writes, look away and cease
from believing,  receiving
his lies and revolt

For a rebel has restarted,
fully now he has departed
and to hell with all others
who think he's not bad.

Unsmile that great happy structure.
Please frown, and he will fracture
all your hopes, to your kids
and your future.

And when you feel fully harrowed.
Just see his grave. His tombed barrow.
You will see him in your dreams.
As a shadow.
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I'm heralding you in sin
My sights, years pass by in dim dins
Light in pearls of wisdom, oyster requires
Understated silence, clasping us close us to the theological brilliance
We are children in front of Goddesses and humble in the abode of idols
We follow our idols or surpass them, with love can fire up many and change a ton of minds
Chasing our sepulchral souls out of this freeway looking for a kick, and getting a couple of punches in the process of effable ecstasy
Pedestrians can freely run by the festering wars, happy that they are crossing the pursuit of happiness
Once in awhile, fiery and in disguise
Her eyes of crosses, and semaphoring sails signaling the end of a frothy journey, free at last
Tombed and gilded in marble and ancient stone

Jonah is still stuck in the whale
We just don't hear his wails, we just read about 'em in steadfast books
And hear about his cries in the houses of Saturday and Sunday
Going on colder nights, looking for the worldly life in the fast lights
Fatuous umbrage and freights fall into the beauty of intuitive love
I once had a photo, I clicked it and then went on it again
Heralding my sins, and making amends with my lost virtue
Virtuous and happy
And they say happiness lies neither in vice or virtue
Holding the Virgil to the light, and the ****** to the dancing dark
Yenson Mar 2021
I live in their country
but
I don't see the scenery
from their eyes
for
they have glass eyes
in different colours
reflecting
the transparency of
living ghosts
and
empty words from soulless minds
tombed in cold breaths
riddled
in icy vapour smoke screens
as dead whispers to the living
as
the ambergris fantasies of the undead
history
has taken everything said and saying
and poured them down their cancerous throats
no
remission for the cloudy from the clouds above
the
living ghosts and the glass-eyed ghost are not gods
mere matter only matter as matter
the only True Ghost is the Holy Ghost

— The End —