~~
Sometimes Loudly
Sometimes Silently
Yellow leaves have fallen,
Becoming dry
Pale
Passing through as the grained Sound on the Street

Slowly dark flees across the evenings
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
Has Shuffled
The Past
Present
Future

Your form that creates metaphors
And what a wonderful feel
Through out its gravity
Night dancing,
When aroma of Night-Queen
Moving in the air,
Plays with the moonlit
As if Reminds
The First love Poem

Has burned within the form
Standing to fascinate
Away, a dense bunch
Of vine Forest
Bored Air moving
Listening the murmur
Of dried leaves
In the passing wind of banner
As if Someone Calling with
My old name

Empty
Restless Heart
Today is the tune that somewhere else
Like a flow
Of a distant river melody,
Surging waves of the attack
In the Strange night of Spring

Continuous grey leaves falling
Falling on the Floor
Whispering the words on the street goes through
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

winter holds her
barren with beauty's decay
she gives silent flowers of the mind to the cold wind
that transports them like dreams into the distant landscape
she gives her soft heart
to the falling snow
which transpires like a whisper flowing down to melt on soft ground
like a passage of the nights tale told and retold
by the fairest of souls in the solitude of starlight...
so intoxicating is the falling snow
it leaves her with numb lips from the verse unsung
it leaves her with aching in her limbs from
the untried ballet of winters solstice...
such is winter's night
a possession of the snow and cold
a rite to be passed with delicate thoughts...
winter holds her in its hand
and yet even barren she flourishes like a rose blooming
in beautiful spring

Those words I've been dreading to hear,
Not boldly uttered--
But clearly, I could feel...

     Unspoken words, indeed they sear...
     Seemingly rendering you unfettered.
     Our flags mismatched in mauve and teal.

I marched my fingers, slowly,
To your cheeks down to your lips.
Touched the traces of stained tears.
From deep slumber,
You've awaken.
Eyes fluttered open.
Those eyes.
They spoke.
Those eyes.
They told me to stay---
To stay.
Away.

     I cupped your face while time froze in
     eternity...
     Locked in tender gaze as my heart dips.
     Reflected in yours were the wasted
     years...
     Felt the weight of commitment's anchor...
     Dragged over a land forsaken...
     Overladen...
     With dastardly lies...
     Tinting future skies so grey,
     But my mouth would welcome the urge to
     say,
     Of the courage long held at bay...
     This minute... This day...

Sweetly tortured by your kiss.
The pain came.
Swift.
Blinding.
Sharp.
It pierced me to where i am.
My heart shattered before it dies.

     These subtle hints you conveniently miss,
     Only hastened the end of this game...
     Time had seen our hearts set adrift...
     We are only playing,
     A broken, detuned harp...
     Withholding our conflicting wants, much
     like a dam.
     Protecting us from defeated cries...

     So let us dispense with sweet
     pleasantries.
     Let us bid farewell to the dream of our
     unified fates in one painful sigh...
Along with all our
memories.
And your words of goodbye.


iammissbrightside
**ryn

sitting here crying
nothing to do
no one around
to hear my screams
as my heart longs
for some good music
my hands wish
for something to hold
my body trembles
as i await
the end of this roaring
noise in my head
telling me to quit
what i have never started

This is one of those days
That I'll never remember.

I've met people like that too,
But when and where is lost

To me. Thursday;
Anonymous.

There are strands of magic
In the seams of a day like this,

Just as in the souls of the people
We meet, and forget.

Gold in a mask of rags.
Life disguised as

Something less than
Magnificence.

It is the emptiness; vastness of
Space between materials, that
Defines the size of a place,
Even within thin walls.

A half-long walk from my house stand
The ruins of a medieval church
Struck by lightning so many times
Over the last nine hundred years

-As if the Lord Himself kept saying
Stop building me this **** and
Just LIVE- that they finally let
Its 1100s stone walls remain

Open to the weathers of the skies.
Some Norwegian churches are so
Old, they still carry runes and
Engravings to honour Odin, Tor

And Balder. It's a difficult thing to
Let go. To just bless the tree and
Surrender it to the rains and suns
Of time.

We have a thousand poems for
Every one of your bombs.
With each act of bloodthirst
And slaughter, we respond with
The force of volumes on peace.

Heaven; a holier word than Hell.
One birth overshines a
Hundred deaths.
Cowards wound.
Heroes heal.

Poets create. You cause
A thousand tears with every bullet.
Well, we compose oceans of comfort
In your wake.
Our ink overpowers your lead.

We have a thousand poems
For every one of your bombs.
You are the bringers of death to
The flesh. We are the armour
Of the soul.

~


Dreaming past snow drifts
Framing the distance
Starlight reflections
Closer than tomorrow
Touching my skin

                                                     ~
                              Through soft woolen mittens
                              Ski jacket hugs, turtleneck wishes
                              Snow angel dreams and icicle kisses
                              Slipping my heart inside of your pocket
                              Where it is warm, safe and secure
                                                      ~

­Calling in echoes
Across the white valley
Listen to the wind
Feel the wintry whispers
Touching your skin

Not often it is
Easy to erase your memories
Zombies they are... Yes

Attack at weaker
times to make you go into
A cocoon of thoughts

Of your past days
Reeling in nostalgia
It's sad, it's bad. Huh?
*******

yet our memories
serve as a stark reminder
of the here and now

our minds do strengthen
with the ken we've obtained
through adverse times

whereby we can shape
a fine weather path ahead
for our future days