This poem has been inspired by one of my frenemies (I’m totally serious right now, so don’t react with all that I say; just listen.) I mean, this frenemy of mine is like an on-and-off flashlight, because I can’t even imagine how much time and effort I’ve wasted just to guess if this person is in a good mood or not. I mean, it’s so freaking me out right now because this person always gets in my nerves like a dementor from the ghastly Azkaban, sucking my soul out until I’m finished. Why I am mad is because I treated this person as one of my close friends, only to throw each possibility of becoming closer, and isn’t that so annoying? I mean, I’m really mad at this person, but now, I just feel cold about it, because this person also feels cold about me, which I think is true because this person is cold to everyone else. Anyway, no offense, because this is what others feel about you, too, but nevertheless, I’ve forgiven you already and I just stated what I’ve felt in the past, so if you ever notice that this poem about you, I’m truly sorry, but you just seem like empty each day, that is why I’m trying to reach out in a nice way. I hope you understand in a nice way, too.
XXVI
MAIDEN OF SOLITUDE
Invis’ble stands between us
Of touches yet unknown
Or fires that rage amongst us
In tainted roses grown
A cube of small existence
Or bleeding tears of pain
Has she a footnote written?
Or scribbled so in vain?
A dust of worthless sparkle
Beneath a cloud of hail
Has she abandoned me now?
Or cried the hundredth wail?
A flower growing daily
But aging so much more
Has she a scent of grieving?
Or deeper than before?
A tower in the middle
Of wars and ashes cold
Has she a letter for me?
Or novels kept untold?
A walking note of sadness
In gently folding hair
Has she a pearl in her hand?
Or left her hanging there?
A winter moon of silence
Sings lowly in her voice
Has she shed so much anger?
Or made such desp’rate noise?
A string in flaming sorrow
Of fleeting edge to sweet
Has she a bitter dreadlock?
Or fell on her own feet?
A concrete mourn in blankets
Of shadows and of fake
Has she been sleeping throughout?
Or sleeping while awake?
She slept a whole millennium
And words were found in me
Compassion has not touched her
Till I were touched with she
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems
PoetryThese poems are just some of the little pieces that make up my life. Whenever I get inspired by someone or something, I write a little story about it in the form of a poem. In a way, it helps me express what I have in my mind in a very vague way. I'...
