They said that you are blind,
Yet I can see you with my mind,
The piecing through my spine,
To me you are but tote sacrifice,
A jar of an oozing surprise!
They again called you trust,
A trip merely to thrust,
The raging furnace's ole to rust!
You are the thing I love to hate,
And I truly hate to love!
While I have inveighed about you.
You have wounded the side of the sun,
And the heat ululating the end of the cold,
Beating the crust aglet of the gun,
Then, The rising of the mocking moon;
Red may be danger, a dagger of threat,
Today, that same red is the hand of love;
With many hiding under to defile,
The sincerity of her meaning;
The blind gift exchange is here,
The smiling shadows of a fair,
To end the tale of a hallow fair,
All of us are strict beggars,
For if you don’t beg from humanity,
You must beg from the almighty;
So, please lower the shoulders,
Get a gift for me, even if it is a like,
To prove your true show of love!
A Letter to the maladroit Cupid!
~ Tile Tersoo
Categories:
aglet, art, celebration, emotions, inspirational
Form: Rhyme
DO NOT MISS THE MOON, WHILE COUNTING THE STARS
Do not be carried away by the deceit,
Of an oozing chant of a back palm’s stew;
For the meat that source and house it,
Will slip and off it will drift like dew;
So, do not miss the sun,
While counting the smiles of the stars,
Kafkaesque!
Most magic moments oblique,
The conscientiousness to tame,
And the illusionary shadow’s of blame.
Sometimes, I don’t want,
You to know what I think,
That’s why I hide it in a plant,
A tarred bowdlerize wink;
So, do not stay too long....
Looking at the sun, especially her eclipse.
Alas! The jaded aglet corpse!
I have wringed wet maelstroms,
What you have in your palm,
Is bigger than the shadow storms,
So, do not waste hours counting,
Those deceitful stars__
When all you need is the moon!
For this is an overweening;
Err that mar many: a raconteur.
~ Tile
Categories:
aglet, africa, anxiety, caregiving, day,
Form: Blank verse
DISPLAYING IMPATIENCE
Petrichor is blue on sad days
sometimes comes back as fire
but on happy wamble it's pink
as a flower
Aglet! Aglet! i tore your
armour now i walk with loose
shoelace!
Only on myleftFoot do i fear
life
AND vagitus speaks clearly
suing me within my heart
cut a star at glabella space
watching the cosmos drink
the memories of all my love
and pain
And she wore natiform on her
chest with a big heart bursting
seeds of flowers one that fell
between her legs and grew a
wild rose that ate me whole
i should be comforted
i should be comforted
i should be arrested
I'm my favorite patient
writing prescription
for mental constipation
burnt like cornicione
but i'm relaxing
and took ferrule stabbing
the tip of my eyes
which hides my burnt brain
:: 03-30-2016 ::
Categories:
aglet, poetry,
Form: Free verse