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I could write the loveliest poem ever,
A lonely dove went cooing by and by,
Yonder rill, yonder hill, yonder river,
Whilst it winged into a clear blue sky.
Lovely is the sky in her robes of blue,
Velvety blue I mean, as eyes of thine
Never bestowed upon any seraph,
That upon my soul kindled love divine.
I could croon the loveliest tune ever,
And whisper it upon rivers of time;
That fairly stream by and by forever,
A tune that in thy heart could ever chime,

  If only I could glance at thy bright eyes
  To once stray upon shores of paradise.
#Decasyllabic
#Shakespearean sonnet
SMZ Jul 2
I used to write the most beautiful things
When I feel loved for everything.

Flowers grew on papers
with every words written down,
Pain have never spoken

I always savor
what's in his favor,
Even I drench in ink
by the thorns he pricked

Storm crossed the yard
In the waves I tried to linger
Left soaking in tears
Waiting for the sunshine
Waiting for it to end

As sweet as yesterday
Captivated by his fragrance
Now I cannot breathe
I want to escape this maze of wilted roses

What have I done?
Why I'm no longer safe in my own garden?

Lost with the clouds
Sadness was profound
You came and painted new colors in this miserable life
I was found

From disgrace
You embraced me
As I suffer illness
You cured me

Even trouble I become
No hesitation, you choose me
Thank you so much for saving me
You are now my forever paradise.
Thank you for seeing the beauty in me.
A Sad Alex Jul 27
I will write you the most romantic verses tonight
For you deserve nothing less my love
Than verses to make your heart soar
Than verses than make you want me more.

I will say “You carry my heart in yours”
“You stole it like a thief in the night”
“But I don´t want it back, to you it now belongs”
“It is yours, my sweet, as am I”

I can write the sweetest verses tonight
For they remind me of you my love
When I see you, I smile from side to side
The clouds go away, the sun shines bright in the sky.

I can say “You are a beacon of light”
“You are the reason I go to sleep every night”
“You are everything to me my dear”
“I love you, please, don´t ever leave my side”

I could write you the most sensual verses tonight
For it´s something I can´t help my love
The sway of your figure, that look in your eye
It sends my senses into overdrive.

I could say “Tonight no one else exists but you”
“The night is only yours and mine”
“Your lips clamor my kiss, your hips my hands”
“As our breaths mingles, our bodies melt into one”

I want to write so many things my dear
Fill pages with silly love poems
What I don´t to ever write is “Goodbye”
And I want to tell you always
“I love you… I love you so much…”
I do write
When I feel
the need to write

Then I don't
when
Don't want to word my thoughts

But then,
My unrelenting thoughts
Keep nudging me
Edging me
Seeking words
Wanting me to write .

Then
Comes my Mind
The repository and Controller
Of all
My senses
Giving a piece of itself to the thoughts

The thoughts bow down
And admit
it was all for fun
Don't get bogged down
You have won

And Then
I am free to decide
As to when to write

*Right to write
Or None
The above piece is again a little conversation between my mind, thoughts and me .

Have been writing for about 8-10 months now.
Have been sharing my thoughts here at HP for the last Six months,
Wrote this last month, when did not share much here.
Writing and reading here ,helps me , it keeps me motivated and yes HP is my happy place.
Thank you all for reading my thoughts.
Pax Jul 1
What makes a poem
- a poem?
Does it express your
emotional life and
the selfish deeds
it contains
.... then you shamelessly
Share it...

Does it really matter
someone might
read it or not?
Someone might
understand you or
not, does that really
matter?

In the world
we live in
many hearts
have died
for they don't
know how our
pen works.
How it does
- what it does.

When a poem
does all the
technicalities,
it may seeks
the power of
fame and fortune
but does it really
matter?

I may not understand
fully what makes a poem
- a poem. But behind all
of it, I'm just here
trying to write a poem
whom my heart
spoke out loud
like he never could.
"How many have to die
so that you can feel loved.
by Florence + the Machine"

you know her music resonates my darkness.
her music really tugs some heartstrings I
tried to hide.
Prabhat Chhetri Sep 2016
you drink for ten nights straight
and the eleventh night
strikes
and the drinks still keep coming
at you
but this time it knocks you out
the first round
and you find yourself again at an
odd hour like
two forty seven in the morning
lying crooked neck
on a half torn
mattress in the hall

You just lie there
hoping to go back to sleep
but the knock out punch
from earlier
has toughened you up
and now no matter
how hard it tries
the soft hands of night
can't box you down

so you write

you know that
time has a tendency to crawl
when its Wednesday night
of a long week
and you are a thousand miles
away from home
and you wish you could
just disappear
into a deep slumber to fast forward time
to the fourth day and beyond
but you are so done with boredom
that you can't even dream

so you write

There is an old hag
We call her grief
and she is back again
at your throat
and you wish you can
straighten out
her old wrinkly flesh
so that at least you can die
a pretty death
There is no cure but to put your mind to the paper

so you write

Your life is a hamster
As long as it runs, the clocks will roll
and you don't want to turn
certain corners of time
because
you don't know what you will find
and the moments you want to keep
are always in a hurry to leave
and happiness is a flash
that shines few and far between
but you want to
prove them wrong
when they say no one can be
forever young

so you write
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