Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.110
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
The Antique store
Antiques she adored, a relic he was.
She had a special place for art.
Unfortunately it wasnt her heart.

I'm clinging on to the older things
the antiques of our time.
Sometimes they break or get lost.
I cannot replace them,
no one can replace them.
But I'd rather have an antique
than nothing at all.
At least I can say I enjoyed it at some point.

Teach me to make beautiful. 
No beauty can I find.
Search me whole. 
Tell only what thoughts appear to be mine.
First comings need an exit of least disgrace.
No one wants to be kept waiting. 
For then their time might never come.
Trimmed antiques in dusty lace.

A whole world
Begging for
Change
Daring to dream
Endless altering realities
Figuring that the end
Generates a new start
Hinging on the application of
'I'
Just in terms of understanding
Knowledge of the self
Learning about the
Magic inside all of us
Nearing that
Ominous future
Persistent in the
Quest for a better tomorrow
Reach for it!
Stand up for it!
Teach the young to 
Usher in their new era
Vestiges of ours gone
Without a second thought
Xenoliths of a different time
Yellowed antiques
Zealous youth to push aside our failures

   
When you don't need me,
you put me on a shelf
with your dusty trophies 
you never really earned,
and antiques
you never took care of.
I'm up front, visible,
easy to reach
at your convenience.
But I know you would rather
take what you need from
your precious china cabinet.
Just know that when you fumble,
when you slip up,
and when you stumble,
your precious china will break.
But I will still be here.

I have gathered all time tellers, 
grandfather clocks, alarm clocks, phones, watches -
to tell you that : I have all the time in the world for you.
It might not be the most sophisticated way
to say that I have an ear for listening and a heart for consolation,
but don't be too skeptical with my methods.
Forgive me, maybe, perhaps, if I can't be so bold and concise.
At least, now we've got all these antiques to talk about.



he is a lover of brokenness. 
he likes antiques,
collecting little fragments of things.
he hates breaking them,
so he finds brokenness, 
fixes it up a little, 
takes a few pieces and leaves. 
he's already taken a bit of me,
and unless I shatter again,
he'll leave forever.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required