Lost Poems
In times of petulance,
fate is persecuted in a silent storm.
Through troublesome chapters,
where words remain unspoken,
sacred scriptures become
mindless memoirs.
Shades of black discolour
visions of rising ripples,
as love stories slowly sour and
are cast away like lost poems.
Can it all be resolved through a simple musing?
In sentences where you were
once my most devoted noun,
ink of my heart became an unwritten verb,
forming a titanium shield covered with thorns.
I could hear the pangs of my muse,
but there were no more metaphors to
portray my angst through alliterations.
Nor abstract adjectives to describe those
forgotten fields we promised to prowl.
What power does a poet possess without
romantic rhymes for a sonnet of love?
So... I lost the lust to write.
In the repetition of darkness,
to cure the sickness of the soul,
I stumbled upon the words of Rumi.
Yearning to swirl like a Dervish,
my only desire was to create poetry
within my beloved's flower garden,
inscribing blank fibres into revered verses.
In your absence little makes sense.
If only I was a tropic bird,
flying among sandpipers
in an island of golden rays,
where turquoise waves meet
ivory shores and the blessed sun,
in sapphires skies glows upon your face.
If I was to embrace your warmth
our petals of passion would
immerse like honeysuckle
and jasmine blossoms.
As you play my flute in your garnet lips,
wandering stars adore your moonstone eyes.
Upon the return of romance,
we will rewrite a new journal in
a poetic province of manifestation.
Upon the dawn of soft pastel flames,
a plethora of flowers will fall from the sky,
colouring a path of saffron, sakura and scarlet,
as this metallic hardness softens
in the sweetness of your sighs.
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2024
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