#poets
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Simple smileWith no funeral for the settingOf parted soulsWho kept escapingTo futures, concealed in the eyes,Peeled back of identity.While she yearned,I gave her a turnTo be final, with me. Before the world swallowsOur echoesFor the cries of the other,Haven’t we only loved? Before we screamIn our closet of shadows,Caressing rose-tinted cheeks,Haven’t we only loved? DespairingIn
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The day whenOur lips never retreatBack to swallowing tears,To their tremblingIn barren fears. When that dayComes as open as whenThe nighttime breaksThrough, with the sun to riseIn the caress of great warmthTo the cold backsOf the other. Then,I come with great songPoured open from my heartThat I have always lovedWithout letting go. You have always
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Great fragrance,Warm remembranceOf what once wasIn the fog of ever-blue eveningsWhere you rain what is leftOf cruelty in your heart. Holding hands, nowWith an empty frame,As the spaceNear to me, in the rainOnce laid the porcelain figureWith cheeks as redAs the descension of a sun,With eyes as sadAs the lifting moon. Waking in flame,While the
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Do notTo the one who barely breathesSpeak of deathly hope,That a future is as malleable as silver,That the unpredictableCan be so formed as the presentWhere the moon colorsThis world in its weeping. Do notTwist the fog towards the imageOf barren truthFor the one with dutiful desiresFor finality,With great dreamsOnly ever livedIn the world of the
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Hollowed outOf her heart, in the everlasting webThat bleeds out the ironFor tracks laid,With screams buried. Funneling shame through a puddleWhere memories liveBy a circular rippleExtending for a mile,That the train can come sailing. Station stormsWhere it rains in her heartAmong all the notesPlayed for the pain of days,All within the waiting years. One playful
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Waiting without thorns,Holding roses to your hair,Giving simplest sentencesFor youTo be aware. Watching as your faceSettles itself,While the kissNestles itself,Tearing attentionFrom the frown,To the keen and fruitfulRomance of a crown. Bending night with night,With rays from the moonlight,Facing sideways downYour hollowness, around,Has made mePresent the bliss of a wildernessWhere limbs can soon shiverUnder the weight
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Call to meEach dismal shapeOf your forgotten beauty.With halls that treasure hearts,Of stillness upon the wallsWhere portraitsKeep faces, with buried lips,With sadnessIn each of their words. Soldiers passGrim countenancesTo the talents of a queen,Ripped freeOf the fortune to love,As scenery runs from their eyes,Pledging boundariesFrom their mind, to Heaven. Children roamUpon where forests collideIn the
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Glue togetherA burnt remnantWith one departed momentWhere our hands were joinedIn idlest fashion.Strained jointsTo seeIn the eyes of the otherSome farewell to the blue. I have lived for far too longWithout the warmthOf your touch,Frozen in the delicate frameOf a conscious,Unconscious mind. Wide openTo the sounds of rushing air,Between bird wings and coal mines,Within both
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WastefulDepartureFrom the moon’s aperture,As tears soak the gentle nightOf its entire warmth,Holding hands with a sculptureFeeling coldness, all around. Grief watches the selfOf mirrored glances in the skies,Sending criesTo the curves of the universe.Whisking scenery close,As love blew the final kissOff the furthest cliff. Somber sculptureWith the rain, of eyesThat never show true pain,As isolated
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Blankets of warmth,As baskets bring flowersAtop what has died,The heart, said to be stoppedFor the good of the world. Yet, its beat was to stayIn place of the eyesThat took to its ill-white veinsA horrid form of symmetryAs rhythms broke the countlessMiniscule reverbs of time. Its beat, of not the decayTo the surrounding imageOf still-life,
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Piano keys,A remembrance of everywhereWhere steps could have walked,Teeming brightOn the slow stridesAtop hard sand. Without a smileTo stay us afloat,Bleeding within our eyesWithout a bucket, for a ropeTo measure the distanceDownwards. Tender heartAnd broken heart,Faceless meanderingsTo the state of understanding.Love has been the vesselOn the open, soft ocean,As eyes are blinded by dustFrom watery
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BurningOf ourselvesIn the same crimson veins,As waters leakFrom the frozen nest in our eyes,To what we see,For all we disguise. FadingAmong afterlife,LosingSoil in the trenchesWhere our bodies flowDown the slope of a hill. Our arms still locked,With hearts still blockedTo see the sunRaining against our burningAnd cold selves.Our movement is a descension. We will maneuverOn
Modern Romanticism 