14 posts tagged “poetry”

Stop leaving me.

I didn't mean to frighten you away.
Whatever did I do to make you look at me that way?

It's not what I said, because you gave me the words.
It's not what I did, because you simply can't be hurt.

Stop leaving me.

I don't know how it happened, but it's a price I cannot pay.
No matter what you take from me, this is something I cannot say.

It's not how I reacted, you knew that's who I am.
It's not what I retracted, something which you'd never stand.

Stop leaving me.

I poured myself and I all was for you.
I bled on pages, look what you made me do.

It's not that I tire, for the chase has made it fun.
It's not that I am searching, in your my only one.

Stop leaving me.

I've come for you once, twice, thrice.
And I'll hunt you down again tonight.

It's not so much the sorrow, but yet there still is pain.
It's not just every time we try, it still never feels the same.

Stop leaving me and I'll take you back - for better or worse.

Morbid oasis of missing passion,
rescued sooted savior.

Bridged scars karomed cross flesh.

Paths we hid from time we lost,
once again to pay the cost.

Pound the crescent, hammered moon.
Binds the flight and bends the spoon.

Small frail tender precious,
based on reason perilous.

It feeds for I hunger,
the thirst it slake'eths so.

Divined soul reminds,
why life is lived.

Sometimes forgotten that it's been,
unremembered longing takes in the pain.

When weight 'ere crushes love,
reminded 'ere love that crushes hate.

Lest not forget who you are,
dare not forget what you seek,
unknown in that which you've found,
letting go yourself for another round.

Flower blooms in an onslaught,
sun kissed knowledge reigns down.
That which never stopped rises again.
The tide is the tempest, binding as it breaks.

Delicate fruit greedily devoured,
immortal hunger christens hope.
Unhesitant thoughts cease mindless ramblings,
focused drive through hazy discontent.

Fearlessly undo that which was done to you,
choices made and bondage broken.
Unshackled abandon strikes hidden malfeasance,
gleam-ed tears burn crimson cheeks as learn-ed-ness returns.

I revealed words again today,

decided I had something to say.

It’s been so long, almost forgotten how,

what once was lost is remembered now.

Bared the scars of bitten flesh,

the burning yearns to acquiesce

You’ve escaped me once, unmotivated desire,

I found the torch, relit the fire.

It wasn’t as though you were never gone,

just shelved until I hummed the song.

You’re why I’m here and why I stay,

you’re what made me think this way.

I don’t know why we fought this fight,

as we go to sleep this night.

I will not apologize,

tears shall not touch my eyes.

Don’t think we’re done with one last fling,

I’ve brought us back to the beginning.

Give it all for another tickle,
resounding discord, playful tune.

To hear your voice matters only,
reveal the dolorous, the mundane, if you wish.

Touch me, need me, break me,
words reveal the thought that passes over lips as desire elicited.

Stop the never. Never the stop.

The end is just a break, moments in which the nothing abides the yearning.

Your voice, a singular chorus, a harmonious revelation drawn from deep seated lust.

It is not for the want, but the satisfaction.

Tell me your desires as I desire in your telling.

It's not the you you show,
because everybody knows.
It's not the you you hide,
because that's locked up inside.
It might be the you you think,
but that's gone in a wink.
Is it the you you would be?
that would end too simply.
Is it the you you would have others want?
Is the lie worth the façade?
It comes down to the you you are.
it's the sum that forms the star.

I sit here with this ephemeral thing,
     I make it dance as I sing.
Fondle gently in my hands,
     let it run across the spans.
To caress a soul, and keep it cared for,
     reminds me all we’ve yet dared for.
To touch and play, softly cradle,
          moved as long as we’re able.
It glows, this soul, it moves and pushes, it yearns.
     Each time I think I’ve got it, I miss it, I kiss it, I learn.
This instrument of beauty, 
     a delicate morsel of divinity.
A bit of pressure.
     elicits pleasure.
To run fingers up its spine,
     seeking what I’ve yet to find.
Tender nothings splay the breast,
     in timeless rhythms beneath your chest.
Beating counternance in endless harmony,
     I play the chords revealing your melody.
Held up as all was meant to be,
     can’t but keep you for only me.
I brought it joy, I’ve shown it pain,
     time moves on to make it play.
What price love?
     A single tear drop?
The first one falls,
     can’t make it stop.

Well, apparently my muse has decided to cut my hiatus short. I NEVER get a vacation, even from my own mind. Sigh. I wrote this as part of a contest on phobias and while I would never let them see me sweat, I don't know how I feel about this piece. At least it's helping me get back in to writing.

Enjoy!

You arrived today and took everything away.

The fear, the mind killer, the alone.

Bargain made, deal struck, and now the gifts displayed.

            I have it all, but another’s touch.

The melodious accord kissed so sweet,

            should have read the fine print.

Traded sanity for sanctimony,

            were I to have left well enough alone.

Ironic power of my will,

            leaves me to devices of my design.

It’s not the bullet, it’s the impact,

            triggers hopelessness, bangs remembrance lost.

To touch but not to feel, to eat but not to taste,

            to have but not to hold, to see without color, to breathe without scent.

The creepies, the crawlies, do not stir my mind to flight.

            I embrace the unknown, to find the life worth living.

I fear the alone, the solace, the nothing – to never touch connect again.

The card represents the critical factor for the issue at hand. Child of Poetry: "I found them blind: I taught them how to see". Feelings of creative restlessness and artistic impulses. Sparks are flying. Learning through experience. Taking risks. Bending over backwards in your effort to see the appropriate direction for self-development and creativity. Looking for inspirational influences in your environment. In the creative process: An inspirational breakthrough is at your feet; it is up to your to pick up the energy and make the most of it.

Click, click, click, STOP! I suppose it is my turn to remain infinitely flexible, to bend to the will of those around me, and make the best out of what is put in my path. There is a maleable force here in front of me, it is time for me to create. C'mon Muse, it's time to do the dance again; just don't leave marks where others will them this time.