Some say life started in the sea

But let me tell you,

life started when God dug a hole

Into her brown skin.

Tiny seeds of faith, she sowed

there, and filled it up

With her breadcrumb ashes.

She breathed in, she breathed out

She poured soul in there, she let love grow.

Sometimes she cried, to water her seeds of life

And they grew there,

Amongst, yes, an of ocean blood.

Life sprouted into a leaf, from inside

her bellybutton. She looked after it

So well that it soon flourished

Into a tree. Tall and rich in majesty;

It transperced Gods gentle belly,

Hung her in the air, displaying her divine beauty.

And when the other seeds grew into humans,

We walked on her flaccid limbs

and there was the genesis.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/olsLflCgKN

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ixp8d9zhds

While first I felt broken, lost and alone,
Love's without condition — limits unknown.
For all that you are, love's grown without cease
For the whole of your being — each perfect piece:
the parts that once loved me, that made me feel safe,
the parts that were closed off, that now ask for space.

From the first time we spoke and even before,
Through to the last and forevermore,
You're flawlessly perfect in all of your ways.
I love you completely, forever and always.

<4

1 2

There's a really low rumbling in these fragile bones , There's no beginning, no end, to the patterns of skipping stones.

There's a hollowness in this wilderness it groans,

There's emptiness that stretches and reaches beyond time zones.

There's happiness that dies here, but not its clones.

Luckily there's misery that always chaperons,

There's wild thoughts, echoing with subtle undertones.

There are mercies and graces still on loan,

There's insomnia, there's blackouts that condone,

Every step on top of hell, under heaven's grindstone.

Nailed to too many crosses to sit on any throne.

[1]https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/nFqr5NhI0z [2]https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/6L4IqzsSqq

This is a poem that I wrote called Onions.

Beach, books. Boys bellow ballads. Bold, brother. Bitchin.

Bright blue kitchen. Mother goose cooks while she cries. Soon? Someday, Susan, someday. Hold tight. Noise is white, no luck in sight. Susan sings and harsh tones fall flat. Ears deaf to daylight. She waits, growing quiet. Her head is loud. Her family died proud. Soon? She retires the stove. Her turn could take longer. Her brothers stay beyond her, beaching. They sing in the light, they sway: Susan, join us. Sue hears not. Soon? A chefs knife lies on the counter, unwashed. Sue showers, waters the garden and flowers. She sleeps, alive, still. She dreams of the lake.

Winds blow gentle, sun warming a dock. The trees stand strong, unchanged, shading the shore. She’s all alone. A loon appears from the depths, his wet feathers sparkle in the sunlight, brightly, calling Susan to deeper water. She obeys, moving outward. She back floats, the water calm. She drifts deeper into sleep. Brothers? She whispers, feeling a splash from the water. She begins to tread. Brothers? She says, louder this time, waves turning red. She hears no reply, as the waves overtake her. She wakes. Soon? Oh Susan.

Her bothers to her could’ve hung the moon. With them, she thinks of July, of June. Beaches, and good ol days. Good that stays. How she wishes to trade with the loon. That loon must’ve drawn up that very monsoon. Soon? But Susan, the loon motivates naturally. It’s boldness and beauty, captivating catastrophe. And even that can’t help Susan’s cause, she wants to know all beyond all what is lost. Death in one world could mean death in the next. Tired of loving the dead, she’s depressed. Her soul and her brothers’ cut the same cloth. But it’s woven loosely and high is the cost. If she fails when she falls, she burns in her death. If she goes she could lose the one thing left: thoughts in her mind of her brother’s gone souls, and that keeps her there, giving control. She thinks of them sadly, and grabs the chefs knife, begins dicing the onions to which she gave life. Someday, Susan, someday.

Comments

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/XWsTWt4Qx1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/e1Tb9TGdsQ

/Femininity/
(divine mother, seductress, survivor, goddess, sister)
Tulpa rising

formless fingers like flickering flames
that reach and withdraw like tides

Namesake of worlds and man-made titans,
hesitant lover, daughter, mother-
unwilling god,
the mourner and the mourned-
mother of mothers, and daughter (sculpture) of man

If I could, I'd break your chain
give you voice to scream with-
To sing with, to weep-
hands to hold, harm, claw
I'd forget your name so you may finally die
return you to the clay, crown your grave in juniper and snowdrops
and pray for your rebirth

#1 #2

I wrote this a while ago and I just can't seem to get it to read the way I want it to, any suggestions are appreciated

I've been lied

Still cleaning dust from my eyes

If I'd a dollar for every ad display

On every fun galore dot com that say

Local ladies looking for some fun

I'd not be so broke and done

So here I'm on a prowl
_

I've been broke

While burning out in 9 to 5

Wasting away years for no outcome

Might as well look for a source of income

Young heart seeking for expert advice

An appetite for seasoned spice

So hear the animal growl
_

I need a cougar to show me the way

Lead me through the night, don’t let me stray

Dangerous curves makes you lose your pace

I need a rich cougar, yeah, show me the way!
_

I’m DiCaprio inverse and she’s far from 25

The way she strut she steals the show

Baby girl..I mean ma’am..miss, you know

Tells me to see her at detention

Got moves to lock my attention

So here we hit the floor
_

Like black widow she weaves her Wisdom

I’m the outlaw she lets in her kingdom

Some may dig gold from a mine

I’ll turn your mother into mine

So here I’m at the door
_

I need a cougar to show me the way

Lead me through the night, don’t let me stray

Dangerous curves makes you lose your pace

I need a rich cougar, yeah, show me the way!
_

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h0upy3/comment/lzbmt8u/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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It's been months, Months of stolen glances that I tried to make look casual, words I buried deep in poems, and hoped, wish you might unearth Did you see them? Did you know they were for you?

I've dancing around this fleeting feeling, wrapped it in riddles & silences, waiting for some sign that it was safe to let it out, you've dropped hints too, didn't you? or maybe that's my mind again, pulling at shadows, seeing what it wants to see.

I wonder if you're waiting too - For me to be braver, to bridge this seemingly impossible distance between us Perhaps you're content, happy where we are and this hope that I carry is a weight, only I feel

But here it is, all of it, Laid bare: I love you. Not just in passing admiration, Not just in fleeting thoughts But in the quiet ways you've taken root, in everything I do

Yet still, I'm terrified, terrified that saying this will ruin us. That I'll lose the friendship that already feels like a gift I never deserved.

But I can't keep writing to you in poems and hoping you'll find me there, So here I am, hoping, trembling, and asking:

If I risk everything - Will you stay? Or am I about to lose the best part of my world.

1

2

Every night, I see her
In the deep space, out of my reach
The lonely silence only thing I hear
Roaming this wasteland, I can only grieve

Monsters haunt me
With each gaze, more of them come
I lay down, succumbed in my cave
I look at her stralight, my mind is numb

Why couldn't your gravity pull me?
So that we can be free?
I wander the endless void
Hoping that this, you will never see

I lift my hands
My grasp too short
Drowning in sand
Left only, to my thought.

1 2

!I wrote this in a short time. Any feedback is appreciated and any critique. I am new to all this. !<

Zip, Zilch, Zero, Zot - The Parmenant Knot

None seen, nor heard,
Never once one observed.
Since "Not Is", is not "Is".
"'Tis nonsense," I thought.
It ought not exist,
A 'thing' that is 'naught':
An Absence of form -
Zip, Zilch, Zero, Zot.

No effect can it cause.
Void laws to detect.
Nothing is Noplace,
Sans space to infect.
Nil denied when defined
To prohibit ability, inhibiting
Null to exhibit, affect, or inhabit reality. Impossibly perfect.
- Nothing's Nihility -
A given correct.

Now recursively cursed to
one zero inversed.
Infinite... Pointless... Lest given one first.
From 'Not Is' to 'Is',
Naught's Meaning reversed

Thus one nothing's verse:
That Nothing means nothing.
An asinine word.
A cipher decoded:
Inane and absurd.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/LDm3vPOMd6
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s3OnApTs4O

Edit.. Title update

Fractured
Splintered
Dark shards on the floor
Fine China no more!

Squint at the glaze on each piece.
Look closely for the glint
Of remorse.

Gold-laced glue for mending
Commending optimism,
Striking glory after
Striking down the artisanal dish.

This beautiful ex-broken piece
Back on the black lacquer table,
Once more a vessel.

(No time to waste,
Pop open the tall glass bottle
And pour the soy sauce.)

It crawls down the gold veins,
Perfect opaque obsidian mirror,
Picture-perfect reflecting
Identical dishes at dinner.

(Why use gold?
Hell, take it back further.
Why even mend it?)

(There are ten dishes filled with soy sauce,
And ten more in the kitchen drawer.
Replaceable, machine manufactured.
What is buying one more?)

Imperfections are only seen
In the disrupted surface of the
Jet-back lake.

No greater function does
This piece grant that the
Others cannot; except for
For the eye of the beholder.

(Even then, who cares?
Stop playing with your food.)

1
2

hear me? listen well, your grave will joy

there i was sincere to your drug

you know those drugs that made your mind safe like a pen touched by a warm hand

there lies a country west and east yearn

the ship through all these roads said wait a minute a ship must be like a country

and how can you sink if your heart still beats to death

your tongue is mixed open to all loves saying i don't love you i am you and all your memories

you stood on a tower, father forgive me for i will sin

smile of yours was huge as beds' trembling

danced to a song, a few songs whose souls were just seventeen to heaven

and i shall love that is everything that ever been that ever felt the shiver

the shiver our minds wanted to evolve and felt alive

alive i am, do you hear me from

the fucking halls of dead poets throwing eachother eternal images

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/8WgcQjesMO

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/hyFVrsBrnd

I gaze out the window, the night flying by,
A sip of Dr. Pepper and stars in the sky.
I wonder, my love, are you thinking of me?
Wherever you are, I hope you're happy and free.

I think of my love for you
I wonder if you feel the same
If you'll someday say I love you, if my dreams will someday come true
I wonder if in a crowd of people would you choose to call my name?

But I stare out the window looking at streetlights
Wondering if you'll pleasure my greatest delights
Your out there somewhere doing something
I sit here stargazing thinking of you
Without you all my memories are blue.

The stars shine bright
But my precious Laura you shine brighter

1 2

I imagine his hands,
smaller than mine,
trembling in the shadow
of his father's knuckled love.

He learned early
that silence was safer
than asking why it hurt.

He was just a boy.

I look at his hands,
bigger than mine,
trembling with the rage
his father taught him to wield.

I learned early
that love is a knuckle
you press into soft skin.

I was just a girl.

I gaze down at my hands
and wonder if they're mine,
trembling beneath the weight,
that my father passed to me.

They were taught early
to hold hurt like a keepsake
and hide it from the world.

But I'm a woman now.

I can unclench these trembling hands
and set down the knuckled lessons
of men who never learned
that love is more than a bruise.

My hurt can be my teacher
and shape me into someone soft
who loves without a fist.

1 2

What a blessed life I life

To hear the rustle of the wild

The pine needles and the chimes

From the neighbors and their neighbors

How the birds whistle and sing

To each other and to the sky

As a plane flies overhead

Sonorous as your heart in your chest

A bee flies past my ear

Or maybe a hummingbird

While children play in the street

And laugh even after summer's end

It's autumn now and the shift in the leaves

And the pitch of the wind

Reminds me that change is coming

And has been for a long time

As the doves call out, the world listens

Though is does not have to reply

For as I sit and listen to all the Earth's love

I can't help but think of yours

1 2

Take my mind; all my right, all my wrong.

Take it with you as you climb.

One with yours, our silent song.

Find us love, all you deserve.

My selfish questions, need now no answers.

Take my mind; my rights, none to reserve.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WMufbmVfMP

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/nQuuGL2WTY

How lucky am I, to exist?

To have eyes to view the universe.

To look into the night sky,

And have the intelligence

To know there is something so big

That it is incomprehensible.

I am made of atoms.

Stardust.

The very fiber of existence.

Its been given to me as a gift,

But also a responsibility.

I am the embodiment of Earth,

But also the farthest reaches of space.

Brought to life,

To view the very thing that created me.

To be in awe of it.

To be in service to it.

To express its wisdom and curiosity

Through my own journey.

With each breath I breath,

I inhale all that ever was

And all that ever will be.

I exist.

As an anomoly.

As a winning lottery ticket.

As an artistic expression.

As life.

1 2

Our young are burdened with the ashen weariness that comes with age.
They see the yawning gulf where passion ought to be - the world's a stage,
portraying unconvincing amateur dramatics, tired and bland.
We're cold in hand and heart and bone, across dead sea and withered land.

Some years ago, an ageing Oxford don described a creeping frost,
a bleeding wound - old magic dying off, irreparably lost.
Our tales are wounded by his tale, the masterpiece we imitate,
and now our young protagonists all come a thousand years too late.

One outrage comes to mind: an Elven-ring, oppression's antidote,
a rousing fire unquenchable! It's barely there, a post-script note,
then at the story's end a tragic loss: "it's broken, what a shame".
Let's bring back Narya in our work, and see how flame can kindle flame.

(Paying the /r/OCPoetry bill: 1, 2)

Good shit at a good price

30 milligram XRs

Blow that numbs the jaw and makes you sweat through your fingertips

I have fallen on my naked ass involuntarily

I thought this shit was supposed to keep me up but I stood too fast and it knocked me out temporarily

That’s some good shit right there.

Generic branded trail mix jug halfway filled with neon green upchuck

I started early afternoon and binged until the crack of dawn

I can hear the birds

I can hear the dumptruck

To you daybreak is refreshing

To me the morning sounds perturb

Mediocre shit taxed and probably laced

My junkie ass will buy it anyway

The dealer said that to my face

I threw up a pastel orange into my laundry basket and let it crust up

Off four pills and two tabs of acid

A dog face down on the floor mewling, tugging on a vasoconstricted dicklet

Fourteen hours I’ve been flaccid

Filled up three piss cups

You got yourself some good shit loser

You sick fuck

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h4aazr/comment/lzwy9l3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h484g5/comment/lzwx4ua/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I left it on the playground

Some time back in 1995

Wrapped up

Brightly flourescent

Wrapped in wonder

Before the days at school

Spent walking alone on the field

Pretending you were waiting for someone

When you would yell “higher!”

“Faster!”

The electricity rushing through you

Before anybody ever said “not you”

I trawl through the catalogs

Of memory, dream, reality

Hoping to find my very first self.

ttps://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JQMtSAGXIr

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/RsJGPf4w0F

Phantom hair By Gray.Emdash

All the absent hair

that he may

never live to see grow

stands along his forearm.

Meanwhile the IV

eternally marauds

the nine-year-old boy's

veins with terror.

At the feet of the bed,

a man sits

waiting.

For two consecutive weeks,

he prayed that

tomorrow

the boy just collapsed

out of his bed

and then be cleansed

of all of it

as he vomits

the plague upon the earth.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/BAmYn9MKun https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pBtWkdj8JJ

I promise.

This time I'll try harder.

This time I'll put in the effort.

This time I'll be stronger.

This time I'll try

To become the person

That you think I already am.

But I'm not.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h48rgp/comment/lzwoz2d/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h33cx2/comment/lzp2ed9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Paranoia refuses to offer a farewell.
Mind entrapped in a vortex flashing visions of death.
Concerns arise in the face of brutal events important to consider
And the unpredictability of tomorrow's truth, a culprit of perpetual horror.
Is it even viable to live in such uncertainty?
The mere concept of existence is, after all, a profound oxymoron. - It's as futile as can be, to make sense of this oxymoron
And such an attempt should always cease with a farewell.
Otherwise, one will always be harassed by the uncertainty
Enforcing bounds placed on oneself by fear of death.
Entertaining such thoughts is to experience the utmost horror
Of all that one desperately avoids to consider. - Certainly, it is impossible not to consider
What makes life such an oxymoron.
Ultimately one has to try and grasp this horror
And at last offer anguish a necessary farewell.
Is this even attainable before the howl of death
Becomes so unbearable as to urge one towards its uncertainty? - Dimmed mind, a close companion through quotidian uncertainty.
Being in such state, it is gruelling to consider.
Herculean seem mundane tasks, when all I cogitate on is death,
And I am sick of pretending to understand this oxymoron.
There is limitless terror in the pondering of one's permanent farewell,
Stuck in an unconsented flirt with phantasms from existential horror.\ A cycle recasting mere thoughts into tantrums of horror.
Any pathetic plea to reduce the uncertainty,
Always leads to greeting serenity with a farewell,
And an "afterwards" is not remotely rational to consider.
All hope perishes against this oxymoron,
For the worth of life is, itself, the impending death.
- No man tells not a lie, claiming to be unphased by death.
Some see liberation in certain quietus, instead of horror.
I struggle to embrace this notion, as dying is a most tragic oxymoron:
An uncertain certainty comprising certain uncertainty.
Romanticism, a sweet oasis eager to vanish in the face of crushing realism, a little something to consider.
All I can do is allow time to march towards an imminent farewell. - To eradicate the grip of death, is to embrace uncertainty,
And the way to rise above the horror is nothing trivial to consider.
It is imperative not to get lost in a sentimental oxymoron, only be prepared to bid your farewell.

1

2

The first time I saw you, it was in passing. It was brief, but my heart was still fleeting.

Second time I saw you, it was from afar. And you shone so bright, like a star.

Third time we were face to face; Your eyes; an unwavering intense gaze.

Fourth encounter was short Too short to try to court

Fifth time we were side by side I wanted to say something when I really wanted to hide

Honestly this is confusing me I wonder if you also noticed this: Noticed me noticing you Like how I noticed you noticing me

Should I take it further? Do you want us to become something? Or will this forever be left as a 'what if?'

1

2

not in bloom, not a rebirth–

we are Ghiberti’s gates left ajar:

gold dust flaking into rivulets,

balanced precariously between

surrender and splendour.

stories which coalesced at the latch

spoke of hands that were too greedy to push

such that the gates no longer know

to open or to stay shut.

together, we are Pieta:

grief cradling beauty

we are rough statues trembling

at the softness of skin.

we are scaffolds: forgotten, unannounced

upholding the world by ourselves

as ruin readies to pounce.

each glance is a chisel,

each word is a crack

in the marble block reminiscing a mountain

to which it longs to come back.

your voice unravels like a fresco

half completed and half lost in ode.

pigments bleed into the frames

where angels lean not towards heaven

but towards each other's

delicate, untouchable curves.

I watch Patinir’s rivers spill

from your hair and ripple to infinity,

submerging every cathedral dome

and the bridges of aching bones.

we are Raphael’s cherubs without haloes

their fingers ink-stained, 

mouths singing broken prayers

as the saintly hall swims against time

and return to raw plaster

you are Durer’s favourite flower-bed

yet you bloom in particular spaces:

between the cracks of a mosaic

between laments for the arches now derelict.

I carry you: Da Vinci’s sketches

unfinished; blurred with fingerprints

each one reaching outward, 

always just shy of flight.

do we rebuild? 

no, we deconstruct.

Patinir’s rivers still swell

until their banks dissolve.

and the golden gates of Florence

collapse into grains, so fine

they bury the shades of dusk.

and yet, the Pieta holds,

grief softening the edges of stone

as She turns rigidity into home.

we are not Renaissance

we are the forgotten scaffolds

and the bleeding pigments of creations

of no names to ever be called.

______________________________________________
This is a translation from a poem I wrote in my native language, so a few parts may be jarring and don't flow well, although that certainly isn't an excuse rather than an explanation. Any general thought or critique is much appreciated. I would love to learn more about your perspectives on and how you feel about my work :)

Notes to my references and why I chose them.

Feedbacks: 1 2

You held my hands,

your coarse fingers

caressed mines,

as soft as thin paper.

Our interlocked fingers,

covering and uncovering

the secrets of each crease.

You parted my nails from the skin

as grandly as one parts the sea

or spread open the newspaper.

With your breath smelling like coffee,

You poured in my ears seas of things unseen,

you were whispering lies and they sounded

so true.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uYx3YkRYyQ

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/SRb5ECvD4x

The Forgiving Pendulum

The clock's pendulum sways like lungs respire—
inevitable as rising after falling.
Each exhale emits existence,
each tick animates life.
A tick bursts with sharp laughter like Kiki or takete;
a tock draws in like a weighted breath,
heavy with the burden it bears.
It saturates reality with circular doubt—
like bouba or maluma.

In a breath’s passing,
an open window welcomes a gentle breeze flirting with Nirvana.
Sunlight unveils beauty outside of flaw's limited reach.
Each moment in the light that passes
frees those bound by the past
or held by future’s fear.

Time passes by without pause—
the secondhand marches past shame’s shadow,
steps over guilt’s pile of apologies,
and wafts through pleasure’s pull.
One after another—
it notices but never announces.

Unlike me who lingers in shame’s shadow—
like a child scolded for spilling a bowl of pomegranate seeds,
the shame not in the spill,
but in the shouting that made it a sin.
Red stains leave marks,
like blood on hands,
a weight they were never meant to hold.

In moments of despair,
my ravenous hunger hunts pleasure.
It devours pleasure's sweetness,
grasping at low fruit, greedy and bold,
stripping me bare—
exploited, discarded,
left to decay,
a bitter reminder of surrendered time.

And yet, despite my deceptive wickedness—
clarity breaks through duplicity’s fantasy.
A rupture in the sky, a sharp inhale of breath,
and I find myself in a world where it is a pleasure to be alive—
stepping out from shame’s shadow,
dancing with pleasure’s light,
embracing seeds of joy.

The clock’s pendulum sways—
forgiving as a gardenia in bloom.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1h3lo50/comment/lzsbl3y/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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I would rather trade one second

In the depths of your soul,

Than explore the vastness of this world alone,

One fleeting second in the realm of your lips

Than eternity in paradise above,

What's the might of immortality

If our love perishes?

What's the winged glory of angels

If my heart's wings are clipped by

Your absence?

Oh, let the trumpet of heaven

The pious souls embrace,

For mine has only one religion,

You

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/enL31NHUTa

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/g1ohcnYccd

On a December morn, the sun shone bright

I came to the brook beneath the skylight

To feel the sun under the wintery veil,

When my maiden arrived, soft and frail

and hushed in her voice, sweet 

"O Love! My heart is yours, complete!"

----------------------------------------------------

The sun would set, and yet we would stay

To share our hearts below the cosmic play.

Stars would brighten and fade in an arc

As I laid in her arms, throughout the dark,

Becoming an aspect of her beauteous grace, 

and a warmth that I'd forever chase.

----------------------------------------------------

We'd walk through fields, high and low

in the morn's dew and the dusky glow

Butterflies girdled her in the day,

Her tress dwelled fireflies back on the way,

When she hushed something we'd pursue,

"My Love! I'll always long for you."

----------------------------------------------------

But time, like the brook, found its way

and soon came the fateful day,

When war decreed men to fight, 

And move away from love and delight.

Hence, my duty bid me far to roam

Yet I promised her I'd soon return home.

----------------------------------------------------

She stood along the brook's shore

Weeping as the winds softly tore, 

I kissed her lips, salt mixed with the sea

and told her softly to remember me.

She wept as though I was a part of her

which haunts me in dreams, far and near.

----------------------------------------------------

The grounds I trudge were stained in blood

and over the earth, there was a flood

of tears, cries cloaked in a gloomy veil,

as my mates and friends fell trail by trail.

Yet, through this horror in my mind,

Her visage, her smile, I sought to find.

----------------------------------------------------

Amidst those grounds and perennial strife

I somehow clung to my fragile life.

Amidst the severed bodies of so plenty, 

I won over with wounds far too many

With each scar telling of woes I'd faced

laced with hope, my heart had embraced.

----------------------------------------------------

But as days rolled on and skies grew grey,

Her letters ceased to come along my way.

The war tore and aged my youthful skin 

And maimed the man I'd been within.

Still, I felt her love, now distant and cold

as my heart refused to grow old. 

----------------------------------------------------

The wounds slowly began to claim

Whatever strength was left in shame.

Each breath was weaker, every step unsure,

yet I longed for her with a heart so pure.

But all my wishes were met with cold--

In vain, I reached, yet nobody to hold.

----------------------------------------------------

I knew my death awaited me near

With every breath confirming my fear,

Too weak to rise and too weak to fight,

I wrote my words in a dimming light,

An epitaph that she might read,

For I could never be hers, nor heed.

----------------------------------------------------

Lies here a man who dared to yearn

for love, but fate decreed him not to return.

A once lively heart is now cold and still

filled with love despite destiny's will.

Remember me, but do not mourn,

My Love! I shall never return!

----------------------------------------------------

She came at last when I was gone,

Upon the graveyard's greenish lawn.

She knelt beside my lonely grave

and offered flowers and tears she'd save.

The epitaph made her learn

the truth that her love wouldn't return.

----------------------------------------------------

She cried as her dreams bit the dust

to satiate the thirst of the bygone lust.

She wept helplessly beside this stone

Her tears fell soft like rain, all alone.

Yet I, beyond the grasp of my cursed life,

Couldn't come to an end my maiden's strife.

----------------------------------------------------

1 | 2

Every once an idle mind,

Silence avows in wisps,

how I end up debted,

at this crisp arm length,

with The One I want;

Burgundy skies sightsee

the palms I once fit,

in search for lies maroon,

I haggle for you,

with a poet once dauntless;

I reach for conondrum arcane

That once was only mine;

Every once a heart flicker,

weighting down the dark

Forthright I rushed into alive,

I forget about you.

ʚ ═══･୨🤍୧･═══ ɞ

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YsQoohXsPy

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/f5Oisrnlgr

Light, beyond apogee

In eight, young, minutes… crucified

Dust mites on the windowsill

Never rousing any nerves

Behind Venetian blinds

Blood, as though in fleeing drops

Drops, from canyons terraformed

Drops in minutes, hours

Drawing no attention

Hum-buzz

Limping through lethargic axons

Whistling in the marrow of my skull

Listening

To news at five

I leave

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