Tag: poem

Found Within The Rhyme

What seems so very simple
is not so what it seems;
To complicate the matter
our lives are full of dreams.

Enthralling tours of wonder
cause feelings strong to grow;
Illusions cast long shadows
on paths which lead to woe.

The world is truly lovely
so longs the heart at night;
Within the dream is shining
though distant is the light.

Hot passions tend to smolder
for those who hold them dear;
Longing will always linger
so hearts do slowly tear.

Murals seen imbued within
in love so strong the zeal;
Such scenes painted so deeply
dread time will seek to steal.

Desire’s fruit sweet ripens
love’s nectar to be found;
But dead to earth it’s falling
and makes no thoughtful sound.

To taste the fruit of Eros
resolve with joy it flies;
Cold doubt blunts the purpose
with winter’s breath it dies.

When two lovers are loving
then souls they can be free;
Stormy minds tend to becloud
sure paths one once could see.

Love songs play a melody
sublime heard in a dream;
Though softly sure it whispers
foreign can seem its theme.

A trance of love is beauty
and stunning in its hue;
Always an angst in moments
when taken out of view.

Places for peaceful knowing
keep true the soul at peace;
Paths fade in somber travels
so lost souls tend to cease.

So the quest for loves reward
pursued throughout all time;
No matter words not knowing
’tis found within the rhyme.

In My Heart True

winter
Yet in solemn winter, beauty must end
And the singing of birds sure fades away
No longer in thick leaves to sit and lend
A joyous tune to the children who play.
So all the color from the world does fade
So swiftly the land becomes just one hue
Thus under the snow sweet flora is laid
The color and splendor taken from view.
Grasped so swiftly, and shaken to death
All that is lovely and warm on this earth
By the abject rue of cold winter’s breath
Still truly I say there still is much mirth:
For in my heart true, I sing soft and coo,
Thankful refrains of this joy that is you.

Seep Bone Coldly

Run Through

No warrior’s death is coming for me
no blood stained sword to release
my foolish life from it’s hollow chest
as I slow die on this field of shame.
Stench of copper vile taste of metal
adrift I’m alone and battered and torn
oh that I could recompense my love!

No quiet wake of honor shall be held
no slow loving march of the damned
will sure carry me to eternal sleep
no I shall ever wail silently as I decay.
Terrible mists of doom rise eerily and
creep hauntingly through fading eyes
cast upon the distant shore of love lost.

No angels of mercy will soar this field
thick with the rancor of bitter defeat
they will not remove this elegiac song
shrouded by sick stench of stoic hope.
Oh that I could in great haste be felled
not seep bone coldly into Hades cruel
might his dread hot abyss of suffering.

No arrow swiftly flying will find its mark
no sword nor spear will ever pierce me.
Aye, this poison by which I die yet slow
looses the design of even black vultures.
I will wither and die in years as it reigns
cold perfect terror over me and claws at
where slow my life leaking seeps to hell.

Their Sorrow

delusion on justruminating mens blogLife is
but a show
for stars
the moon
and the sun.

Emotions are
for little kids
as they play
and run.

Love is
just a fairytale
from books
from poems
never to be won.

Living is
just a dream
from which
we never wake.

Feelings are
awful things
their pain
their sorrow
strong they ache.

Love is
but a fantasy
never a reality
never can partake.

Such Pretty Words

Written upon the occasion of  a gentleman completely misreading the nuanced words of a particular young lady.  Poor chap.  Sad tale, this one.

Oh this venom
upon his lips!
See how
coldly
down the back
of his throat
it slips.

Bled from the sun
a nectar he’s found
he swallows slowly
and suddenly
perplexed
he drops
dead on the ground.

Smoke and mirrors
Labyrinth for few
funfair funhouse
with equivocal words
lake waters illusory
cloak and dagger
through and through.

That faraway land
coy foreign way
words gamely penned
vaguely veiled ideas
a premise delusional
and so then
this swift decay!

His blood his tears
the snow they stain
his soul it dies
and will remain
ever and forever
dead with disdain.