"whou" poems
Ah, thee, standing beneath the crescent moon;
Dark in thy chest of white substance,
Impure in thy porcelain light,
Corrupted by the bashful night,
And who said thou could understand;
Thou were menial and rigid and cold,
Thou talked away and danced to the light,
Thou made lavish for me a nightmare.
Thou, who seemest just like granite to me
As hard as its surface could be,
And although it had a clean look,
Thou hath been wronged by thy own sins.
I am a threat to thy aura,
An abnormal cloud and satire;
Like a sickness, a secret oblivion,
Thou dream of me not in red and grey.
I am a fly to thy barren tales;
A trouble to thy singing flute.
But who said she could fake a dance;
By the divine Eolian lute?
And thou, whou seem just like granite to me;
As hard as its surface could be,
And though it had a clean look,
Thou hath been cursed by thy old sins,
Thy hands, made ***** by her touch;
Furtive in the most fatal sense,
And thy charm, handsome but mindless,
Knocked my heart torn, drowned and lifeless,
What if I feed thee to my heart;
Whenst all thou doth is crush it again,
What if I let thee tear its parts;
By the love riddles of thy friends,
What if t'is resolute ode is dead;
Leaving me no more beat and breath,
What if my breath hath no more pause,
But hurts and pains and screams and dies.
I dream not of thy lucid words,
They are not beauty to my prose.
I dream not of thy flavoured verse,
Which stays fictitious to my cause.
I dream not of thy flagrant smile,
That lasts only for a while more.
I dream not of thee as I should,
They are a mirror of falsehood.
I dream not of thy mortal blood,
It likes to lie and fool my heart.
I dream not of thy diseased mind,
I shalt be fine with my crooked tears.
I dream not of thy paradise,
For in there shalt be thou and she;
Laid in the thoughts of thy naked lies,
Only poetry dies away with me.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
A boy took a respite
A boy didn't want to see his parents
whou would at this juncture
so he found the woman he trusted most
A boys grandmother
A woman so nice so gentle and wise
who had seen what felt like eternity
pass through her eyes
so she dolled out advice
with a dash of honesty
better yourself she said
and everything will fall into place
everybody loves themselves
that much is overrated
like yourself first
and that's when the magic happens
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC