neither free verses nor any rhymes should i put into places to seem endearingly fit for ascertaining whether my soul has decided to abandon me. whatever it is that it wants, i find myself more and more suppressive under its haughty countenance- as if it were to adjudicate and pass a verdict of its own. so now, i can no longer feel in flesh and blood. my existence lies with the storms, rains, in the woods, and whatever else that is blissful and destructive. it must be very counterintuitive, isn't it? -i have several mirrors behind my face and yet they're not all the same. some are laughing, some are precariously murderous, some are voyaging, some are on the verge of collapsing. certainly, they're not all the same, yet all of them are nothing but apparitions from the deepest corners of my abysmal paradox. i am incapable of deserting them so holding onto them, i run wild in the sunshine and incinerate with them. i don't detest myself in presumptive numbers for being a majority of these mirrors, which are now languid shards, but in an exalted passion of a thousand thoughts. -to love myself, i have to love the hurricanes and snowflakes and the wild wind embracing my soul, the evaluator of a shagrin mind. although i am one body one soul, i'm pertinaciously scattered like pollens in the wild wind which can never be secluded.
from farcical affections to despairing desire i burned bits of myself in the blazing fire if oblivion were to cast itself in my little world i'd prefer turning to ashes from my heart's dire
the ghosts who deride at my sweet blasphemy their lurking eyes never reflected any empathy if oblivion were to cast itself in my little world i'd prefer some madness prior to my final sanity
what is love, if not a delirium crafted like art? like sky and sea seem as one yet so far apart if oblivion were to cast itself in my little world i'd prefer to be a prudent hoax before i depart
all of my skin delineated many abysmal dreams it personified a lost soul as ancient as it seems so if oblivion were to cast itself in my little world i'd prefer to combust hysterically betwixt the seams
" i have been wandering about past memory lanes where i didn't care about how endings would be. i have been conceited about a notion of love that would set me free because liberation is what it's made of, isn't it? at first it seemed like the smooth waves that passionately kissed my bleeding feet as i walked along the coastline. what i didn't see coming was that despite it, tornadoes can recur equal damage to all that is peaceful and beautiful. and so 'love' and 'melancholy' are two drops in the same sea. now it's easy for me to sense the disposition of my heart. i know it's the waves of love when i feel liberated. and i know it's melancholy when i feel tornadoes rising in my heart. nevertheless, what terrifies me the most is that even before i realise it anytime soon, love and melancholy will merge into one large ocean and wash me away from the coast. and i'll never know the mystery of whether i'm drowning in love or i'm drowning in melancholy."
HIRAETH- "a deep, inborn sense of yearning for a home, a feeling, a place or person that is beyond this plane of existence"
i found myself on the highest cliff i'd ever seen there were two trees and a swing in between back and forth was the pattern all the time beyond the mountain peaks i could see the sunshine
out loud to the valleys below i called your name the leaves rustled and mocked, said "you're insane" they've lived here for centuries, they must know lost ones are forgotten just as quickly after snow
and yet this world feels like a puzzle void to me betwixt smiles and sorrows i would find thee so i spread my tattered wings and flew away hopelessly to the next high cliff before i decay
i bellowed so hard, the leaves rustled in despair i swung so high, my wings hanging behind all bare the sun is setting now, the mountains turn dark afar i'll find you in this hiraeth, no matter how lost you are
things we never imagined, or ever wished for, always make surprise entries in our lives. things, good or bad. things that are least desired. and i think that's universe's way of making us acceptable to the unwanted. what do we usually do with an inevitable situation? obviously, we make our peace with it. we contemplate, we curse, we cry. we even wish selfishly, driven by escalating emotions, don't we? however, in the end, we accept. we accept the unwanted and the inevitable. and what do we do after that? we move on. we should keep asking ourselves- can i really afford to ponder on the bad things that happened? we have our whole lives in front of us and yet we are blind. we can build our way into the future and yet we don't know where to start. well, we can at least start with self-analyzation because trust me, looking deep inside your heart and mind is the best place to start.
You have been with me in your most lovable state, you must be wondering if you are still lovable or not. I wanna answer you, my every connection with human beings is like I loved them when they were in their most lovable state. I still love them just that the connections have withered not they.
So it's okay if you attract skepticism I am not a stagnant person but I am not even a miscreant to forget you. I have the utmost care for you, you won't believe it because now I bearly look at you
How should I explain, you need delicate hands And I have nothing but the roughness to give you. I am reckless you know, don't wanna drop you on the floor. I will keep you until I keep my last breath That's my promise don't be afraid. In my mutilated journal my withered rose, Somedays I will be gone take care of yourself.
I have questions to ask and no one to answer Trapped in the woods Between stomped sunflowers. A knife in my back pocket And love for an hour, I will lose my mind And Stitch my wounds To look like a fairytale And the lavender that bloomed. Wandering under the sun Outrunning the dark One wish I want to live young Transitioning my broken heart.
At this point in my life, I won't think back and forth to state that I have grown into a paradox, grown to create a paradox, and get entangled in it and fall and get hit on my head and forget how I actually ever lived, and start over, But never mind.
Never over thought when all the lies were served as truth But thought over and over on why its truth if it is. When loving someone become hard for me I chose to numb my emotions, I do it all the time. Things go hard I go numb, it's easy when you don't feel anything. You can let go and forgive and forget and blah blah easily right?
Never over thought why it was easy for me to buy a cigarette then lunch for myself? But thought over and over on why I do it if I do it? When it comes to hating someone it doesn't last more than 30 seconds, and then I keep hating myself for it.
Oddquain butterflies - a “merged mirror oddquain” where the two stanzas of a mirror oddquain are merged together, one of the middle 1 syllable lines is dropped, resulting in one nine line stanza of the form 1-3-5-7-1-7-5-3-1. Please note that a oddquain butterfly is not a “oddquain” because it doesn’t have five lines, but it is “butterfly” made up of two oddquains that were merged together into one poem.
Here are 7(+1 at the end) pleiades poem. And the poem in BG is an acrostic poem, each line six syllabled,(six being my favorite number) and the poems in caption start with s which is my favorite letter.