Newer poems from age 20 and above. New posts arrive here after some time of them being online.
…
My poem has a strart
but not yet an ending
For now it is but only a work in progress
Even tho I have lost my pencil at this time
and my sentences are all but own
I shall protect my words and get back
onto that self ruling throne
As I feel jack frost pass by
and see the rime on the trees go high
I keep walking, the sun on my back
Breathing out clouds, nothing to lack
How my face hurts from the salty water that covers it all
How my head throbs
from the pressure building from inside out
How everything aches from the story’s that made me who I am today
For thy says that the eyes are a window into ones soul.
Nothing but truth I can give to that statement.
But..
For every string that is picked
for every key that is pressed
for every drum that is beat
and for every song that we collect
It is thy music that makes up a sheet which lays a path
and if thy follows, thy will find ones whole composition of life, of them
A crushed soul
is but pieces of a whole
the cracks keeping everything inside
hidden from the world, hidden worldwide
For the first in times I’m seeking words
Tho I comprehend with every fibed
I AM SEEKING WORDS!
Paper blank, pen punctured
I AM SEEKING WORDS!
For I have no perception of the existence of a language to describe
THIS
I AM SEEKING WORDS!
But maybe it’s time
to admit
that no words are needed
For my lips to be softly sliding along every line
and gently will my fingers flow along your spine
to let thy sensibility steer
my every next move, your desire…
clear
for my touch to trace every inch
feeling seen
my skin against yours, no space… inbetween
to endear
to embrace
to please
to come
All but verbs when I’ll be done
To me who believed in my own knowledge
Where have you gone?
Why did you leave and took all my willpower with you?
I lost trust in my own capacities
While in the past with confidence I could build cities
Are some parts fading?
Did past events create this shading?
Is it still there?
or is it gone,
a wound, a scar, hiding somewhere?
For i can’t tell, even if it’s me
I’m stuck which makes me want to flee
To flee, but I also wanna find
Macause without I aim losing my mind
For thy movements setting me aflame
Taunting me to play,
to burn myself,
to engage with fire
for thy challenge set to hunt
endangering ou civility
when in vicinity
for it’s what thy wants
and so it’s what you’ll get
