Poem
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“Writing patterns and schemes in the work, is a direct result of reading them in people.” – Modern Romanticism We can define all types of poets. Though, it can be believed that the universal aspect of a poet, is not by them simply penning the work, though to write about what they have read. Of
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BreathingEach grace,Stumbling overYour expressionlessFace.Bleeding and kneelingBeneath the sun,In the path of your startledGaze. I move,RunningTowards your world,Apart from mine,In the green oceans,With the blue lands. I liftBoulder after boulderFrom you,While you were trappedUnder pebbles, so heavy,Inside a coffin, so light. I rainTeardrops to you,Singing griefUnder this blank curtain. Can a glimpse of some other loveTouch
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FallingInto empty circlesBranded with your kisses,Stained by the blood of your heart.I can reachFor a void, where you belonged,Yet, you still shower me in your excessive light,Leaving love to my arms,Caressed like a whimpering child. Leave my own heartTo the storm of your hypocrisy,That I might terminateAll the blood that flows through your halo,That I
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UnholyDynastyOf something so unfathomable,As the love from starless nights,There is sheWading among the terrorsTo a place without light,That I seekSomething so meek,In where she places her crownOf ebony mixed with ivory,Though the latter has no substance. She choosesDiversity for ways,While ICan collideWith the ocean’s breath,As IFlood the world with her death,Can sing praises that come
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To the pale skin,A void dripsTears to stain cheeks that were never taintedLike this,Like how the petals in your mouthEcho your lost screams.For to shower your existenceWith fireWill only seek to end the coldnessIn your relation. You have eyes that never burn a pathFor your naked feet to walk.You have shoulders, continually caressedBy the hand
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How much bloodCan erase the letters on these worn pages?I have become something elseTo the bitternessOf one heart, written in the soil,Of one droplet of crimson,Fed to my mouth.He glistens on the cross,He stays there,Sheltering his own eyes with the sun,Finding a place where I cannot runTo make my home. Upon my knees,Stranded in senseless
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Grief stills meIn dying sleep,For I have drunk too many tearsTo see where my yearsShall carry me.My fingers liftTo feel the warmth of a fading sun,To bleed caught sorrowsOver the evening’s forsaken tomorrows. Some stilled picture,Some glimmering reflectionOf her, in the skyWhere darkness can mimic my pledge,My vowAs nowMy lips are always buriedIn the soil,
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Oh, radiationOf your head to your arms,You have become won.Like leaves that have met the sun,In autumnal tempestsOf sorry rain to reach the streets,Of droplets from your faceTo cover your hands.You can twistStrain from your eyes,You can mergeYour petals with the gravelAs you lay to writhe. Just a closureTo a standing truthThat you have formed
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Blood-red leafletsOf autumnal scribblingsShower praises,Staunch phrases,Leave pagesUntied of her demise,Loosened of her chosenLife,And to the grave where sheKeeps her silence,I have grown a blood-redRose. BleedingHeavy tracesWhere cutting fleshIs for the facesWearied by shock,Toiled of the painter’s smock,Captured by the wandering clockThat drowns scentOf blood, in iron wellsWhere I can rise,And she can drown.This, too, I
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Despite me,You can riseOn wings folded by fire,Through eyes,That despite meCan rinse the terrors freeTo a glance of so much becomingNature,Lifting freeThe stains that have lasted. Despite me,You can swingFrom edge to edge.You can empty me,So that you can join the solace,Of a time awayWhere my yearning takes place.I simply longFor my failures to never
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How long until Heaven holds usWithin wings that can shelterOur oldest night?We have beauty racing everywhere,Where majesty falls,As love can be for the shine upon the templeThat says,“Tomorrow is forever.”How can love die?How can it? You were toldThat death could ceaseAll things to be.You were toldThat our eyes cannot seeThe dreams that can one day
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I crawlFrom graves that remindMe, of the agonyThat took you, alive.As I acheI will remain to breakWith arms that squeeze the lifeFrom me,As I saw youWith eyes that failed the sunlight,And a heart that was lostIn the plummeting dark. Like two steps aroundYour carved, broken heart,I fell alongThe stingThat fate brings. I see what love
Modern Romanticism 