Members
Secunderabad, India
33/F/Grapevine, TX
I didn't think I could write poems, but I guess I am a poet!
22/F/India
I write to express my thoughts and feelings. I believe that poetry is the clear expression of mixed feelings. So please follow me and don't …
Poems
JLB
Jun 2012
A word gathering dust on my internal junk shelf,
Inseparable, it would seem, from my ego.
Assuredly it seems just a threat to my health;
It's a surefire harm to my heart, this I know.
But once given the chance to examine my state,
As impossible as it seemed to let go,
I saw glimpses of wisdom, redemptions of fate,
Which swore to this word’s worth, its quo.
For when read alone, on a page in my mind,
The “him” was the syllabic gong that rang twelfth.
But I took a fresh gaze, and upon my collate
Saw its syllabic partner alone; saw the “self.”
My “self,” I then saw, was discovered through “him;”
Made naked, and shivering, and new.
He’d unveiled hottest passions, and fears, with great stealth.
So “him” I can thank, now the word’s split in two.
Driven apart by an unlikely shim,
I have his remains, but see more clearly my “self.”
The dust I will likely now brush off my shelf,
For uttering the loveliest elision since “him.”
Inseparable, it would seem, from my ego.
Assuredly it seems just a threat to my health;
It's a surefire harm to my heart, this I know.
But once given the chance to examine my state,
As impossible as it seemed to let go,
I saw glimpses of wisdom, redemptions of fate,
Which swore to this word’s worth, its quo.
For when read alone, on a page in my mind,
The “him” was the syllabic gong that rang twelfth.
But I took a fresh gaze, and upon my collate
Saw its syllabic partner alone; saw the “self.”
My “self,” I then saw, was discovered through “him;”
Made naked, and shivering, and new.
He’d unveiled hottest passions, and fears, with great stealth.
So “him” I can thank, now the word’s split in two.
Driven apart by an unlikely shim,
I have his remains, but see more clearly my “self.”
The dust I will likely now brush off my shelf,
For uttering the loveliest elision since “him.”
Reverist Aug 2014
The Reaper's Penalty
Reverist
Aug 2014
The reaper's eyes were on her,
Yet she never bowed.
The reaper's ax chose her,
Yet she never soughed.
Death was finally in love,
With the girl he could never cow,
For she was something he could never have,
A girl with a skin too firm to swallow.
Why couldn't he touch the girl,.
The girl whose tears never fell,
The girl whose eyes are pearl,
The girl whose voice is a shim of bell?
Her secret wasn't a mystery,
She was too pure to be touched by maleficence.
The reaper desired her for her rarity,
But his hands burned at the touch of virtuousness.
Death chased her everyday,
In the hopes of taking her soul,
But her soul was too far away,
Far away for him to hold.
The young maiden didn't even notice
The harvester at her tail.
She was too involved in lightness
For her to witness his veil.
The reaper's ax was rotting,
It was yearning blood,
Though who he was lusting,
Was nothing but an illusion set by god.
The girl was a mirage,
God's own penalty,
Towards the slayer,
That gave birth to misery.
Yet she never bowed.
The reaper's ax chose her,
Yet she never soughed.
Death was finally in love,
With the girl he could never cow,
For she was something he could never have,
A girl with a skin too firm to swallow.
Why couldn't he touch the girl,.
The girl whose tears never fell,
The girl whose eyes are pearl,
The girl whose voice is a shim of bell?
Her secret wasn't a mystery,
She was too pure to be touched by maleficence.
The reaper desired her for her rarity,
But his hands burned at the touch of virtuousness.
Death chased her everyday,
In the hopes of taking her soul,
But her soul was too far away,
Far away for him to hold.
The young maiden didn't even notice
The harvester at her tail.
She was too involved in lightness
For her to witness his veil.
The reaper's ax was rotting,
It was yearning blood,
Though who he was lusting,
Was nothing but an illusion set by god.
The girl was a mirage,
God's own penalty,
Towards the slayer,
That gave birth to misery.