Poems (34,066)

Fragile hope is calling again
From the deepest,obscure well,
Sounds stretch their invisible notes
And ears can hear something unlikely
As melody from the shell.

Echoes is yearning through the night
Like chimerical moans without a tear,
Moments become mystical,interrupted
And announce that well's sounds is not real.

Come closely to the place
Where echoes thread voices
As tiny knots on the rope,
Only truth that can be real
Is a continuing which promises
Achievable
And so fearless hope.....

I am very fond of birds, but to me,
the dawn chorus is a euphemism
for a loud cacophony of tweeting.
Regardless of what species they might be.

I like art when it is skilful, but to me,
the Mona Lisa is a picture of
a woman who just sits there looking smug,
and holds but not a trace of mystery.

I love music when it’s good, but to me,
Imagine is as corny as can be.
The whiteness of John Lennon and that room
lend it absolutely no profundity.

It’s not that I am soulless, but to me,
it seems we see what we are told to see.

Out of the earth
A slow steady burn
Burning with desire
Now take it's time
It won’t go out
Following your heart
Glowing on the horizon
A bright crimson star
O’er a sea of tranquil green
My heart’s belongs to you
That’s really easy to see
Right beside yours
It's perfect host
Our hands will hold
Be no longer cold
A love we share
Until we grow old
Nothing else matters
The laws of nature
Require we struggle
So let's make a nest
Where we can snuggle
We found each other
We’ll find our rest
Inside our breast
I become yours
You become mine
Two hearts will collide

In the still of the night
One little scar calls somebody's name,
They never were together
But,it still hurts and carries such a heavy blame.

Years have passed
So quickly and without joyful traces,
He thinks often about that unreachable woman
And tries to recognize her among many foreign faces.

Silence is present around him
Man tremors in longing till the crack of the dawn,
Some strange feeling comes to visitation
When they told him that she is still alone......

They are words to no one
I've spoken to no one
They're just words on paper to be burned or thrown in the trash
While others enjoy conversations I'm someone time has passed

What matters the rhyme
What matters the feeling
There's no need of one more line
For it's a fool I keep revealing

Read these words just for fun
I've not spoken to anyone there's no questions I should ask
The answers are over my head and when enough has been said
I'm someone time has passed

My dad died today
a solemn Wednesday. In May.
Dozens, long unseen
converged that day
to pray and to comfort
the soon bereaved.
Proud he was,
pulled his last breath only
when we left the room
In privacy.

But I had been there
to observe the ritual
of his passing.
Strange odors, unnatural heat.
His yellowed eyes
a distraction from
his laboured breathing
and shame of wilting
away.

………………………..

Buried my dad today.
Small funeral. Big change
He lay stiff, in brown suit,
Cold, handsome
And dead.
Fatherly smirk,
plain as Day, hinted
a last smile and
blissful nothingness.

Catholic priest,
paid to speak eloquently
Pretended on pulpit
they were aquaintances.
Untouched by the sadness
that stilled my siblings
I fidgeted. My brain
strained to process
His absence.

Is anyone out there?
Does somebody see hopelessness full of painful sighing?
I need to find secure place to set my sorrow
Before I cross the bridge of oblivion
To another chapter made of dying.

A long path is waiting
With all what I am
And all what I will be,
In case that dark hour finds me again
I shall not refuse offer which I may see.

Imagine all those years
With ingrained weed of affliction
And evil,wicked root,
Last melody means total distance
And reminds on grieving
As unavoidable requiem for one deprived youth.

had a dog,a lurcher,terrier,on Feb,19th,had to bury her,Didn't know she was ill,if only knew? disease of the womb,did not have a clue,hope im forgiven for not knowing that,and connie im sorry,for being a twat!! to me you a daughter that i never had,you chose when puppy,for that i am glad,you gave me laughter,and some tear's,killed spider's for me,when i told u my fears,though Didn't like the smell,of me drinking those beer's!! you loved football,and most of your toys,barked at bad dog's,also bad boy's!! would have took you to beach,its not i Didn't care,sweet dreams to you connie,now can go anywhere, got a new puppy,will never be you,connie,kind and smart!!! people just never knew,my heart is broke, i hope will mend,goodbye dear connie,my,best and number one friend

Blank pages wait to be filled
With lovely letters which start to rise,
I really want to make them completely real
With one simple tendency,
And without any kind of disguise.

With every single thought
I more define my writing toys,
They will stay huge relief
With one plain and sublime choice.

Once again I take a bow
In front of the public of writing lines,
Words will always be my magical gift
Delightfully supreme and
So sincerely divines.

He tells me words while he dances with me
Words that are not like any other words
he takes me up underneath my arm and plants me in a cloud …..
The black rain in my eyes getting poured down with heavy drops and drops
he holds me with him … he holds me to an evening on a pink balcony…
he takes me up underneath my arm and plants me in a cloud
and I’m like a little girl within his hands like a feather carried by wafts
in his hands … like a feather carried by wafts

he gives me a sun .he gives me a summer and a Herd of swallows
Words… Words… Words… Words
he tells me that I’m his Masterpiece and that I worth
thousand of stars

I’m a treasure and that I’m the most beautiful portrait he has never seen
Words that are not like any other words
He tells me things that make me giddy
Which make me forget the dance floor+ the all steps
Words that upturn my history that make me of me a women in a few moments
He builds me a castle of illusions
I don’t live in it I don’t live in it except for a few moments

Ah and I return … I return to my table
I return …, and I return to my table
Carrying nothing … Carrying nothing
Except words
Words that are not like any other words