Monday, August 02, 2010 @ 9:26:00 PM
Eternal
The waters beneath her feet,
The sky above her head,
The wind passing through her body,
The line where the blues joined,
Leaving feelings of eternity.
The streaks of orange turning purple,
The red touched the connected,
Disappearing into the vast darkness,
Where the two becomes a whole,
Leaving her desserted in nothingness.
Labels: Poetry
Tuesday, June 09, 2009 @ 12:11:00 AM
Why me?
I was initially going to post a story, but I got interrupted by a stinging bee which stung me fast and hard.
Sometimes I wonder "how come?"
I already tried, not my best, but I tried, "how come?"
I'd like to push the blame onto external factors; but in reality it's just my own damned fault.
"If only." But I would still like to ask "why me?"
***
Jac and Jil went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water
Jac poked Jil for the trill
to not blow his cover
He stroked her silky hair, and whispered in her ear, "sometimes I'd wonder, why did he not want you."
Jac met Jil by the tree top hill
to sing and dance for his lover
Jac and Jil went down the hill
hand in hand for it is not over
Tuesday, April 28, 2009 @ 12:06:00 AM
The Perfect Dream
It doesn't hurt to dream.
To dream of the perfect life;
the perfect job;
the perfect family;
the perfect children;
the perfect house;
the perfect spouse,
loyal, trusted, undying love.
It really doesn't hurt to dream;
your perfect little dream.
Labels: Poetry
Wednesday, July 16, 2008 @ 8:22:00 PM
Laugh, and the world laughs with you
Weep, and you weep alone
--
She is an open history of sad anecdotes;
Filled with withdrawn souls within
The wounded peace remained embalmed;
emotions resembling a many faceted gem;
and continual slavery of the heart
Her eyes dark as coal as guilty pleasures clouded
bubbling perilous ascent brings eternal note of grief;
musing perfectly together
She stood robed in flames and amber;
abandoned under the cool pink light before the heat of day
Trapped in a poisoned mind of swiveling murky darkness
You have become her memory, a bad piece of faded memory. And soon, it would cease to even matter at all. Goodbye, forever.
Labels: Poetry
Saturday, June 21, 2008 @ 2:11:00 PM
The Present
Yesterday - is a history,
Toworrow - is a mystery,
TODAY is a GIFT,
That's why is it called "The PRESENT"
Labels: Poetry
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