and sweet. I'd forgotten about it until I found it in my old book. This one is called Dreams.
She rests her weary soul,
on a pillow made of clouds.
Her dreams consume her tortured mind,
rendering her still.
The stars defend their weakened love
as she basks beneath the glow...
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin...
that is bordered with one line scribbles and sketches. I research the history and origins of my subject and find synonyms to simple words. Words or lines pop into my head and I jot them down on my paper as I write and save them in my notes on my phone when my brain brings forth...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in it's roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, and...
To see my heart and soul.
No lips but yours,
Pressed firmly to mine,
Soft, warm, intoxicating...
No hands but yours,
To hold tenderly in my own,
To feel them moving over my body,
Thrilling and arousing me to my core.
No arms but yours,
Holding me and pulling me
So close to you...
Is love found in holding hands?
In quiet whispers?
In looks shared across a crowded room?
Is love shared in notes?
Is love felt with a quickening pulse?
A feeling of loss in her absence?
A longing to see but a glimpse of her?
Is love heard through...
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry it's funny how forever never seems to last it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past it's funny how “friends” can just...
after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half acre, square mile, island, country
knowing at last how you got there,
and say I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
there soft arms from around you,
the birds take...
Where majestic Borobudur
Had come into my view
A thousand years of history
A void in space and time
A rendezvous with Siddhartha
A hundred steps to climb
The prayer wheels were turning
As day turned into night
And the maiden from Sumatra
Stood silent on my right
are like sugar on my tongue or the way velvet feels to the tips of fingers
I can’t stop wanting or touching, lusting for your blood where rumors in the night feed me such a sweet desire
crying out for my soul to step closer, closer I hear the...
come to meas a bird.So I build you a bird house.Centuries agoyou taught me to sing you,with your throaty smudgeleaving the higher noted to melike sweet dark coffee and sweet creamwhere grit and the sublime collide.But in this life you are spirityou come to meas a birdso I build...
I know I'm talking straight.
I can hear my words echoing in my head
They are words....Complete sentences
Not proper grammer of course
But they are sentences that make sense to me when I think about what to say and we'll they sound correct in my mind as I say them.
you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
I write quite a bit, but I rarely let anyone else read my work. Most of it is kind of dark, but this particular one is kind of positive. It's called Cycle.
Does it consume you
Nay. Fill you with vitality?
When the placid arms
of the vast mahogany
so near but yet we can't reach them
pain crosses my heart, tightening it
as the rain lifts, the light gathers and I think of you
no one knows where they're going it's just being decided by the wind
surpass the darkness and head towards the future, I want to escort you
I sorta gave up on poetry a while ago, but for some reason I found my old poetry journal while I was cleaning up. I'm pretty shy when it comes to sharing my poetry sooo I've only really shared it with a few people....
Time Machine ????
I need to build a time machine to go back...
Dhool chehre pe thi, Aur hum aaina saaf karte rahe
Hum samander ki tarha chup hain kay hum jaantay hain
hum agar sabar na kartay tu qayamat kartay
main such kahoon gaan aur phir bhi haar jaaon gaan
wo jhoot kahe gi aur phir bhi lajawa kar de gi
entrust my greeting through the wind for you
In spruce shoots, at the end of reverie
When i convey my love with full of prose
Only for you..
I admit that i’m not very dare
To state what my hearts screaming even only in my dream
Then i just write these burning coals in my...
just shells,but the voice of the sea,the Moon and Sun reflected,the hands of the waterrushing to touch, rushingto pull me close and tell mestories of love and bitterness.I’ve collected the play and cryof gulls and doves and pelicans,the crawl of crabs, footprintsand hearts...
Brel"I Wish For You To Be You"I wish for you dreams which never end,and the furious desire to achieve some of them.I wish for you to love what must be lovedand forget what must be forgotten.I wish you passions.I wish you silences.I wish for you birdsong upon awakeningand the...
"I'm passionate about poetry because I'm an oceanic person, meaning, I love what's underlying. I love the conversation that isn't just verbal. I love the shadowed mystery and waves and underground. If I had to choose one thing to read for the rest of my days, give me poetry as to...
I seemed to have loved you numberless times, in numberless forms...
In life afer life, age after age, forvever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear around your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age...
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals...
And the white rose breathes of love;O the red rose is a falcon,And the white rose is a dove.But I send you a cream-white rosebudWith a flush on its petal tips;For the love that is purest and sweetestHas a kiss of desire on the lips.
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of...
that I made.
It's called 'A Rose On Concrete.' Tell me what you think!
"Dreams are nothing but absurd
That's what they choose to believe,
Oho! They must have never heard
About the rose that grew on the concrete,
Why do they choose to be blind
When the truth is there to see...
is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and even during the
the greatest times
we will know it
we will know it
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
we will wait
in that space.
I also love poetry - discussing it, writing it, analysing it... I'd love to chat about poetry in general, not really one for 'hey!!! Look at me! Look at my lovely lingo! Aren't I a literary genius?!' which I've seen on so many forums... not that I wouldn't share my own stuff...
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands, the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your...
me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns...
when the cold wind blows the window,
I want to warm my frozen heart by replaying that summer.
Playing at the beach you were enjoying it!
The video of memories of we two, I am watching it all alone..
While you were a little shy, you whispered 'I love you'
Your face of liar...