I want this year for me to be filled with Roses, I don’t know why but I’ve aged recently and have all of a sudden developed a strange fascination with Roses. Previously a few months ago I was fascinated with the big girl up in the sky the moon ( you may have noticed the constant references in my poetry). From this month onwards I however am feeling the mystery and clarity of a rose. It is a symbol of pure love but also passionate lust, a mixture that never ends up well in life.
I began tonights writings with the intention to write a short poem about Roses but I decided against it, as if I am to truly experience the meaning and connection of the flower I must purchase some. Really live for a rose and experience its beauty.
I want to realise why its red holds thorns that can cut fragile skin and how raindrops perch on its terrain glimmering even in a dim light.
Writing for me has indeed taken a backseat but I still want a connection to my blog so for now it will be with Roses.
Heat the sweats drips to my
Heat the sun shines through the
Heat the flowers bloom quite
Heat the ice melts cooling
Heat the children playing with
Heat the burn of skin so
The infatuation I developed with myself during the first few months of this years has faded and I feel its definitely affecting my post rate on this beautiful blog. It has passages into my emotions and soul that I’ve not really subjected anyone else too. I’ve been neglecting this little page of my thoughts for quite sometime now and I feel it’s completely unjustified. The self obsession I had with finding myself has passed that feeling used to drive me to post the nonsensical poetry and essays that have come to be the norm of my blog. Oddly me as a person settling down, has practically put a nail in the coffin of this blog. One that has never ever been extremely taxing when it comes to content.
Let us start again, I want to speak more and express stupid thoughts that I used to relish so much when I had faltered. Get to grips with how spontaneous the content (if you can even call it that) is, because I know its never gonna be steady.
If you are reading this and have found yourself intrigued by the blabbering I’ve posted on this site then do comment on a direction you would like me to take. I’ll be damned if I can’t take orders from a community of extraordinary people.
Force a smile.
Live a while.
Shed a tear.
For a year.
Please don’t cry.
While saying goodbye.
But someone else.
Work your job.
Lost in the fog.
Take it slow.
Always, always listen twice.
I don’t know who he is anymore that boy in the mirror. He’s been crying allot more lately and laughing harder at himself. There has not been 1 day in the past 5 months that his stomach has not ached with emotions, feelings one is supposed to feel a few times in a lifetime. Do I no longer capture the imagination of those who used to be interested in me anymore, have I been so caught up in trying to negate certain feelings that i’ve lost myself. Isn’t the whole point of life to continue through and grow and change yet I keep remembering aspects of myself I have lost that I miss. Sure my self-confidence has grown significantly but my new highs are accompanied by drastic lows. Somebody saw something in me that kept them with me for a time but now moved on I’m struggling to see that light. I’m a beggar for life at the moment, I beg for attention and interaction because I know if I don’t I will be left alone…
It’s a tragic feeling to think that if I switched off no-one would miss me, I am nobody’s core. Many people in my life are my cores that help me to move even if they don’t care about me but I know this for certain I am not cores for them. For I see them with those who they truly love and require to get through their days. And yes I do close myself off from the world at times because I can’t live like the rest. I can’t wait until I’m back to being myself where I can dream and not cry once everyday one thing is for certain is that I have changed! Somethings so great and somethings so bad that the devil presses down on my chest until I weep.
And I’m not talking to anyone anymore. Just because I get sad doesn’t mean they should see me as this sad boy I am so much more it’s just particularly hard at this moment in time. I’m not looking for a shoulder to cry on I shall weep and move on and weep and move on.
This is not a cry for help I promise to anyone who reads this I am so much stronger than my lows. Its just I think I love allot stronger than others, I might not show it but this pressing on my stomach ensures it.
He took the glass and pressed it upon his rosy lips, drinking heavily the concoction made by angels. It fills him with joyous rapture yet he forgets when he drinks. The glass is empty, eyes lost and longing for a light to guide his way once more, another round is needed another drink.
A smile is all that is required to fill its contents, false promises of love bring life to his feet inspiring him to move and go about his day. But he will not smile anymore not for the benefit of the glass.
its been months….
My heart has taken a shape so grotesque that I wince when I look in the mirror. I drink from the glass at night filling up my mind with tranquility and bliss, for sleep is my solace. Yet in the day this energy is gone and I remain a weeping husk for the ages to look at me and wonder how I’m still moving.
Its getting stronger this terror on my heart with each pin prick I struggle to find a bandage to fix it. The weeping becomes normal due to the lack of love I feel in my heart. I am a fireplace that has been put out and have no-one to rekindle me.
For my heart still holds a flame for you.
We’ve been down this road before again and again.
It leaves like the autumn does to the trees, a sky of orange and red mist.
Yet this time the difference is palpable, organic and true.
Only temporary are the strings that bind the souls to each other.
Like the moon to the ocean setting the scene but never falling down.
To crash the party, the dances in circles and lines.
The stars show me the way these days I know the smile.
Singing birds guide the trees in the directions they need to grow.
The life and times of this world can remind me of yes.
Separate entities each stanza holds yet I feel united by them.
The past-time of kings to create and behold words never told.
Only temporary are these lines yet forever remain written.
via Daily Prompt: Temporary