My Poetry Blog: A Mix of Genres and Poetry Styles
Three pale dots on the canvas that is the midnight sky.
To witness their beauty,
A moralising reminder of what has been.
Once I bore witness as I stood on the wooden deck of my home,
Though that was an eon ago already now.
A bitter-sweet memory,
Yet, the stars still dare to shine.
There exists no comprehension in my mind for their beauty.
Oh how I would treasure it,
To simply gaze upon them in awe together with you…
No greater gift could possibly exist.
Loneliness and lethargy,
Keeping me company on this chapter.
I longingly await the light,
Alas,
Rather in life than in death.
When the clouds may finally break open,
And release all this anguish.
Oh, when may I see this day?
An endless number of strings pull on my heart,
Threatening to tear apart the stitches, placed so many times.
Frail arms clutch tightly around my chest,
In a painfully hopeless attempt at composure.
Holding on,
Barely.
Strings of a full spectrum of colour,
Ironically pulling me further into darkness.
Memories of days when the sun’s warmth still registered,
Of when there was a satisfaction to life.
Oh Lord in the heavens above,
Is this all there is?
As if life is a faulty rollercoaster that knows only how to travel down.
My pitifully weak mind is not enough,
Torn apart and put back together so many times over now.
I beg for something,
For someone,
To give me life.
I speak these words but there is a painful awareness,
That I should reach out,
Independently achieve greatness.
Doing so would sacrifice this containment of my heart,
Allowing it to get ripped out of my chest.
Maybe this time,
The stitches won’t be necessary.
A frozen world.
And with shaking legs,
A fruitless scream.
The clouds hang lifelessly in the air,
The sun not providing its invaluable warmth.
An infertile wasteland of hopelessness.
The endless width of it seemingly unreachable,
As every handhold crumbles away.
They fly overhead,
The vultures of death.
Waiting for me to succumb to the nothingness.
Ironically an endless sound in the nothingness,
Telling me to stop.
It seems like the greatest sin,
To even consider surrender.
To become yet another bone carcass and leave my soul,
To then become dust once more,
And join the stars,
In an endless journey.
It’s all deception.
But if the truth can’t save me,
What can?
If home is where the heart is,
I’ve lost my heart not so long ago.
I’m asked,
Does it feel like home yet?
And I wonder,
Can’t they see this bloody hole in my chest?
It hasn’t healed over,
There’s been no stitches,
Not even a disinfectant.
I can see the infection,
Gnawing away at raw flesh.
Some days there is restoration,
Some nights there is none.
No comfort,
Rest,
When all that keeps me awake is a deep longing.
Alas,
It’s a reason to live.
To be whole,
Grow a new heart.
An instrumental paradox-like chaos.
Laws and logics,
But gravity fails at times.
My thoughts swirling through the clouds,
Thoughts of joy linger on the whites,
Sadness on the grey,
And in a thunderstorm all is consumed.
Each storm ends in ambiguity,
Will there be sunshine,
Rain,
Another day of winds,
Twists and turns?
To take the reigns of a horse,
Galloping at a frightening pace without a pauze.
To fly down to a peaceful place,
When the thoughts’ energy finally runs out,
And sleep embraces me.
Obsecure dreams,
Subconscious processing of the relevant and irrelevant,
Before my eyes open to a sunny day.
I will the winds to be still,
And so they are.
But there is a terrible wrongness about it all.
The leaves shouldn’t be eternally motionless.
They should wither,
Dry up,
Be blown away into oblivion by winds that shan’t remember them.
Then new leaves will grow,
Bear fruit and bloom for all to see;
Welcome the sun and its seemingly endless energy.
Whether it’s a day where the leaves are blown away,
Or where my thoughts have been led astray;
I know it will be okay,
At the end of the final sunny day.
Time Taken: 17 minutes
A rumble as mighty as the roar of an ancient god,
Approaching with giant haste in a quiet contrast.
A green open field,
Yellow flowers growing where they see fit,
As the sun still permits,
Before it too must give way.
The wind becomes a gale,
The swallow flies low,
And a lone tree calls for me.
To lay myself down in its cool shade,
Rest a tiresome body.
Let a storm blow over,
At the price of its eternal constant when giving in.
A rose-scented thought so tempting,
But alas,
I stand on two feet that are not my own.
Flowers shrink away,
A mighty choreography of harsh winds and freezing rain,
As thunder strikes!
Flaming white bolts of fatal fire crash down around me,
Mighty explosions crash through enormous mountains.
Split in half and made anew,
And the storm finds its satisfaction in the chaos.
It now moves,
Blows away,
Over the oceans,
Dissipates,
Its purpose fulfilled.
The flowers show their face,
And a warm sun appears once more.
It feels kinder
than before.
Time Taken: 26 minutes
Oh, I know:
Though I walk here alone.
Got a couple of good friends,
They’ll be with me to the end.
Oh, I know:
Though I skip over this dark path,
Been here before.
I’ll make it to the end.
So, I know
It’ll be okay.
Since whatever happens,
My besties will stay ❤
Kinda thought of this when on my way back home from a run. Obviously much lighter in terms of language and stylistic features than the usual ones but am really grateful for those close to me always supporting me, whether they are reading this or not. Love you all, and thanks so much for those following this blog, have loved writing poetry for it so far and will keep doing it 🙂
This descent into the dark Abyss.
The fog thickens,
The birds cease their songs of joy;
As the sky above is still oh so bright,
My fingers reaching,
Wishing for its touch.
For the touch of a cold breeze,
To hear even a faint whisper,
To smell the red roses,
Anything…
Anything indicating a beating heart.
Anything that reveals life,
A breath,
A shout,
A scream of desperation.
But now there is nothing at all.
Only silence,
As the lifeless fog touches my skin;
Covering every inch,
Penetrating my soul.
My eyes look up,
As the faint light
Disappears.
Time Taken: 5 minutes
Walking with the sun on my face,
When I close my eyes,
And ignore the cold;
It feels like home.
Though you’re not here with me,
It feels like we’re side by side,
Where we belong.
You’re not poetically thousands of miles away,
But when I think of you and me;
I’m not afraid.
I’m not to blame,
You’re not to blame,
Life’s just that way.
In my mind when we’re together,
It’s a bittersweet memory of that last night,
Of that last ride,
In the moonlight.
Time Taken: 3 minutes
Foreigner to two homes,
An unknown destination.
His mother tongue,
He may as well be an orphan.
Love is there,
Waiting on all sides.
But he possesses this knowledge,
Augmenting his melancholic thoughts.
Melancholy does not do the darkness justice,
As no words can.
Moving down an angle of depression,
Into familiar depths.
His own voice tells him the way out,
Above and below,
But it’s raw.
As it is a truth repeated for eons.
Time Taken: 15 minutes
JD Poetry 