Words Much Like Poetry

What is this that overwhelms me so, makes me weak of resolve when I try to forget. My efforts to distract myself fail me, and all I am left with is emptiness without you. My mind cries for you always, mine heart calling to be answered. Every heartbeat calling to you calling, of the depth of feeling to be heard. The restlessness that has overtaken me, denies me peace and fills me with longing; a desperate need to be acknowledged and be of substance in your eyes. Why do you keep silent? I only seek to know your heart. Every time I draw near, you turn your face away from me. I only ask to be heard, the desire in my heart to be understood. The warmth of your laughter, bids my failing heart, arise. Bathe me with your shy glances, touch my hand as you pass by, turn to look at me as you walk away, smile at me so I may be whole. ~ Pandit, that sappy Indian bugger. Image: Vintage Art - Lady with Tennis Racket

she looked at him though young, scarcely aware of sorrow she understood he looked, alone at the white stones as they covered the departed and his face hardened against pain little hands tugged at his garments holding a little violet flower and in that moment the soft young face melted his heart even in his final hour the face, though older comforted him, reassured him for freedom was nigh

he could look into them forever, the window to her soul the jewels whose brilliance lights up his soul and bathes it in purity her very shadow makes flowers grow her breath brings forth ice flakes her words are the strum of a harp and her footsteps the whisper of angels he can only look at her through the glass their distances insurmountable their hopes unrequited their sentiments unspoken yet she wears the crown, his queen of a distant land her seat beside him remains empty and the empty palace halls echo with loneliness

In those quiet moments it comes to me, creeps up to me from an unknown place my innermost thoughts my mind it seeks to mime my cherished reverie without hap to replace in desperation I wallow in phantasms, reaching I grasp for an unextended vine, sucked back within by this murky chasm all I hope for now is salvation divine there are no more dreamless sleeps words fail to give me avowal my grip on reality slips it is only a game played to a foul

upon six gems we struck a covenant, to be as one among the chaos of our youth to bond our hearts of jade and azure, to an unlikely perfect graft a mystic of sentiment you were a chestful of gold-lings and shinies the sparkle at the summit of passion found the gentle whisper of a diamond brook but your brilliance hid the crack in your refraction a weakness you hid to preserve my integrity and as you slowly splintered, I motioned you make house with me you slowly lost your luster and I shuddered in silence as deep down I knew, the Gem Maker was calling you home at the failing of shines, we made our vows the imprint of our eternal memory, and the band of six jewels a testament to our union you were broken and I could not mend you and I tried to shine brighter for the both of us but I could not fix your center and you gave up your last light in mine hands image created by Antony Kamau

of affection and passion I cast aside it betrays me at every turn the promise of bliss and soft embrace false and aborted always I shall then only seek to make my own way abandoned by the bosom of companion comfort I turn my loneliness to inspiration upon a writ I pour a bled heart my face set to a permanent frown my words set to a rudeless firmness my feelings shall lack sentimentality as my mind takes on an unforgiving world

I chase careless twirls with my eyes, as they merge with invisible mists, they conspire in whispers to capture my very soul. my soul will belong to her, the toxic exotic she has stolen my reverie, with baneful enticement. my ruthless wonder has poisoned me, there is no nostrum, her breath is of musky inhalations and a fragrance of fairy woods. she renders me breathless, quick looks with her bewitching brown gaze, they have an unconventional glimmer, la femme fatale has made me her willing prisoner.

I skirt along the edge of something wonderful but I know not what destiny resides at its core I have made my wish, rubbed the lamp of fate will it be granted? I see a host of blessings amidst threads woven at the loom of hope their aura but barely reaches me from within the garden of miracles I almost smell the cool dewy beyond bathe in the promise of a heart's paradise the comforting green upon my feet in the looking glass of diamond drops will my wish be granted? I long for this palpitating flutter to be calmed the storm of mind overcast to be appeased with but a word from the angel of promise

this elation is a beautiful high. I do not want it to go away it is a rare gem to find this laughter within longs to bubble out into the world and rain on everyone The tiny smile in front of me gives me this simple joy her laughter touches the darkness in my soul and takes it away her innocence is my second chance and her eyes melt my every worry tears well up in my eyes and I cannot hold them back I take her and hold her close to me and she holds my cheeks with both hands I look at her and wonder if she understands she touches her forehead with mine and smiles another bout of beautiful joy bursts from within me and I start to laugh she looks bewildered for a moment then starts to laugh too a beautiful tiny laugh that grows louder as I spin, holding her up high and in that moment, nothing else matters, she is my second chance ........ my saving grace

passion is no more than a bygone sentiment, our ardor long extinguished itself, and I've only vague impressions of being as a fiercely lit conflagration within your arms. I sift constantly through the ashes of that emotion, in desperate search of an ember that might spark and reignite the flame, only to come away with nothing, fingers gray. no, instead I have become as a black hole, once the epitome of supernal magnificence turned nova, then super, o cataclysm, o crux, o nervous breakdown, and insanity won, becomes the epitome of nothingness, an inky void which begins to draw from everything that surrounds it. laughter, the elixir of ages, drained. memories, of what sweet, small splendor there was, lost. tears, the outcome of heartache, siphoned dry. nothing is spared the inexorable pull, the irresistible dark force, not even the light.