Untitled.....
Sadness falls over me,
like ball and chain wrapped in a blanket,
dark with the desire of release,
covered, claustrophobic,
tearing at my flesh with claws of despair,
at times,
when my guard is low,
the past drags me down,
to a place I view through frosted glass,
a curse.
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Untitled....
Hands clasp the last vestige,
an empty vessel,
upon a table of dreams,
weary of the obscene reminders,
the past haunting.
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Not so much poems as thoughts really, I dont know if I have a particular style, I just write as it comes to me.
Hi thanks for the response. I'm not always that miserable, . These are quite old pieces. I have done a lot of resolving in the years between then and now, writing helped out with that, more than I realised at the time. Here is something a little more upbeat.....
untitled
Sunlight arcs through the morning dew,
resting upon autumn leaves,
drifting colours, rampant & serene,
touch places previously unreached.
A refreshingly damp scent,
lingers with pleasure,
tasting every peaceful moment,
on the tip of an eager tongue.
The chill autumn breeze,
lightly caressing my fingertips,
as hands drawn skyward,
embrace the new morning.
All six senses revel,
in the essence of nature,
drinking the vibrant flavours,
unseen, unimaginable....
walking, just walking......
Bad poetry rocks!