Tag Archives: #poetry

I Should Love Then I Shall Die

A heart once filled with love and hope,
Now lays shattered, broken and alone,
The pain and sadness, it cannot cope,
For all that’s left is a heart of stone.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

Once a light shone bright and true,
In this heart that beat for you,
But now it’s gone, forevermore,
Leaving behind an empty core.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

The pain, it cuts so deep inside,
A wound that time cannot hide,
The love that once filled this heart,
Now torn apart, forever to depart.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

As this heart beats its final breath,
It knows that love can bring both life and death,
And though it may never love again,
It will always remember what it once had been.

:: 05.03.2023 ::


Eliza Shivered

Amidst the silver gleam of lunar grace, by the nightingale’s melodious sigh,
A tale of twilight’s embrace, in the realm of dreams, does lie.

Upon an olden, timeworn estate, Whose walls whispered secrets deep,
A figure wandered, cloaked in fate, as twilight’s lullabies did seep.

A heart, once vibrant, now subdued, by the memory of love’s sweet touch,
Could bear no more the weight, accrued, a lament, that echoed much.

Her phantom form, a gentle light, an apparition in the dusk,
eyes that shimmered, stars in flight, a memory, now turned to husk.

The melody, by Mozart played, weaved through halls, a soothing balm,
as the figure roamed, in darkness swayed, and longed for words, a healing calm.

“Eliza,” he whispered, in tender grief, as the shadows waltzed, in harmony,
“Is this my fate, a life so brief, Yet bound by your memory?”

A rustle stirred, a gentle coo, resonating through the haze,
He shivered, as the music grew, and gazed upon the moonlit rays.

There, nestled, with a tender air, a nightingale, dark and sleek,
Sang a tune, a melody rare, “Infinity,” it seemed to speak.

A spell was cast, a love-sick heart, held by the nightingale’s serenade,
Forever entwined, a work of art, in the embrace of twilight’s shade.

Thus lingers still, that tender verse, of love and loss, entwined,
where twilight’s songs, like moonbeams, disperse, in the depths of the dreaming mind.

:: 05.03.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

The poem tells a haunting tale of love, loss, and longing set against the backdrop of an old, mysterious estate. It is imbued with a sense of melancholy, invoking the image of a protagonist who wanders through the mansion, mourning a lost love.

The opening lines establish the ethereal setting of the poem, with the silver gleam of lunar grace and the nightingale’s melodious sigh setting the stage for a tale that unfolds within the realm of dreams. The imagery in the poem is rich and evocative, painting a vivid picture of the old estate and the figure wandering its halls.

The protagonist is described as once having a vibrant heart, now subdued by the memory of a love long gone. The pain of this loss is so great that it has become a lament echoing throughout the mansion. This lost love is embodied by the phantom form of a woman, her eyes shimmering like stars, her memory haunting the protagonist like a fading apparition.

The poem incorporates the romantic music of Mozart as a soothing balm that weaves through the halls of the estate, a counterpoint to the darkness that surrounds the protagonist. This music brings a sense of yearning for a healing calm, but the protagonist is still bound by the memory of his love, Eliza.

As the poem unfolds, a nightingale appears, symbolizing the tender, bittersweet nature of love and loss. The nightingale sings a rare melody, “Infinity,” reflecting the eternal nature of the protagonist’s feelings. This encounter casts a spell over the protagonist’s heart, which is held captive by the nightingale’s serenade.

In the end, the poem concludes with the notion that the tender verse of love and loss, like the twilight’s songs and moonbeams, lingers in the depths of the dreaming mind. The poem captures the essence of the human experience, exploring themes of love, longing, and the power of memory, all against the backdrop of a hauntingly beautiful, dreamlike setting.


Within The Concert Hall Alone

[As I looked into the mirror, my reflection smiled back at me with eyes that were not my own.]

As I entered the abandoned concert hall, the scent of decay and neglect hung heavy in the air, sending shivers down my spine. The only source of light came from a flickering candle on a creaky wooden stand, illuminating the outline of a cello in the corner. I hesitated for a moment before picking up the bow and drawing it across the strings, unleashing a haunting melody that filled the room. Suddenly, I saw my reflection in the dusty mirror, my eyes now empty sockets and my flesh decaying, as I realized the cello had been playing me all along, summoning the spirits of the dead to claim me as their own.

:: 05.03.2023 ::


MY GIRLFRIEND ATE EMBRYO

I got no right to feel just fine for every sad scream is a human in such pain


But still the sun shines crawling around my skin

I forget because I ate the silver light of the moon

So empty and wasted still I keep a smile deep inside a never-healing wound

So I taped the beginning to the end of my aloneness the ceiling light bulb tried but never could become summer
so we should have known oh, we knew

we should love time and all devices too, that carry our life

I saw and see and have seen past, future, and now the miracle of science a fashion like plastic
a dark and smart secret unknown merry-go-round, a carnival of geeks, freaks, and fat ladies the carny barking words to lure you

But still the sun shines crawling around my skin

I forgot because my girlfriend ate the embryo, I placed inside her

I saw and see and have seen past future and now the miracle of science a fashion police killing us.

:: 05.02.2023 ::


BeINg SmAlL

being   S M A L L    is  this reality
corporations eating souls, it’s:

I know you and you know me,

Unlike hitler or mussolini
the world has social media

 and evil is eating you and me
 dead is TV and we sip coke
 next to the deceased civilizations
 of a fossilized world

I would have been anything for you
but silos of thinking kills freedom
it’s easier to be dead than alive

and for you:  one and one is three
and men are woman and woman are nothing
they exploit females to kill the family

Oh, how wake is a dead eye in the sky
and our dead leaders roll in graves

So I know your anger — and all you wanted
to be — make it now:  a butterfly
with a ton punch, a God who Cares
and Loves you________be the smiling face
against the evil of exploitation and
love is the truth that expands spacetime
and follow me so you can be free.

:: 04.30.2023 ::


Parfüm der Liebe (Love’s Perfume)

My dearest’s eyes are nothing like the sun,
Her lips cannot match life’s red, not one;

If snow is white, her breasts are dun to sight,
Her hair like fire, red as stars delight.

I’ve seen roses, in colors bright and bold,
But none in her cheeks do I behold;

And in some scents there’s greater delight
than in the breath that from my love takes flight.

I love to hear her speak, though music’s strains

Which holds greater enchantment, ’tis truth I maintain;
I’ve ne’er seen a goddess, but my love walks the earth,
And when she treads, it’s with mortal girth.

Yet, by heaven, I deem my love so rare,
As any that false comparisons ensnare.

:: 04.30.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

The poem “Parfüm der Liebe (Love’s Perfume)” is a modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, with some variations in wording and imagery. The speaker describes his lover in unconventional terms, comparing her to elements that are not traditionally associated with beauty. The contrast between the natural and the idealized forms of beauty is a central theme of the poem.

The first quatrain compares the lover’s eyes and lips to the sun and coral, respectively, and finds them lacking. The second quatrain continues the unconventional imagery, comparing her breasts to dun-colored snow and her hair to black wires. In the third quatrain, the speaker admits to having seen more beautiful roses than those found in his lover’s cheeks, and suggests that some scents are more delightful than the breath of his beloved.

In the final couplet, however, the speaker asserts that his love is rare and precious, even if it does not conform to conventional beauty standards. The poem suggests that true love transcends appearances and external attributes, and that it is the inner qualities of a person that truly matter.

Overall, “Parfüm der Liebe (Love’s Perfume)” is a thought-provoking adaptation of a classic sonnet that challenges traditional notions of beauty and love, and emphasizes the importance of seeing beyond appearances.


What Love Opposed by Love?

WHAT more? If by love then by heart.

If by beauty then by lust.

One by Soul as the other by action while perjured,

the Soul, that is called blame and extreme,

is but a soundless song bird and sinking sun.

Both lost by Light requesting new days.

:: 04.30.2023 ::


River Creatures Speak

CLOSING these eyes
reaching outside all reality
you come inside inevitably
surreal being one
dancing twinkle little toes
being mice is little woe
i lost the bread crumbs of a path
inside this deep green forest
little feet wet upon green grass
stopping i look: out there, under stars,
i saw myself focus on the soul i am
reading, drawing, singing, i found a river
of rivulets and eddies swirling around me
the frog croaked, “important to be authentic!”
The tadpole, “Express your emotions with hesitation!”
The skies, “Those wo care about you won’t be bothered
by what you say, and those who are bothered
do not matter.”

:: 04.30.2023 ::


Clocks In Spring Time

Clocks are omnipresent, constantly ticking, urging us to stay on schedule. Spring, however, is a different story – it refuses to be bound by the limitations of time. The hands of Spring move slowly and steadily, devoid of the mechanical jolts that govern our lives.

Spring is not a machine with gears, weights or springs ticking away inside it. It is a delicate, slender and unencumbered thing that evades the heaviness of our time-obsessed world.

When Spring arrives, we can kiss our beloveds without the tyrannical hold of clocks seeking to govern our every move. In Spring, time loses its grip, and love can bloom freely, without the ticking of the clock interrupting our tender embraces.

:: 04.27.2023 ::


The Balloon Man

Amidst the season of mud,
The small, limping balloon man
Whistles a tune so soft and slight,
And Eddie and Bill, they come running.
Marbles and pirate ships left behind
For it is spring, and the world is full of wonder.

Puddles here and there,
The strange old balloon man
Whistles his song so light and free.
Betty and Isbel, they come dancing
From hopscotch and jump rope,
For it is spring,
And the world is full of life.

The goat-footed balloon man,
He whistles still,
His song so faint and sweet.
And we, like Eddie and Bill,
Like Betty and Isbel,
We run and dance in the spring,
For the world is full of joy.

:: 04.27.2023 ::