Pump on, lest death may play its part,
with weight of sin or righteousness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Indeed, when schemes may fall apart,
though souls be gripped by frightfulness.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
And though the wiles of a sweetheart,
her leave to cause much woefulness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Or when death nears, and angels dart,
seek not redress for life’s caress.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
All things forever from the start,
are linked as one through timelessness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Life is but hues of nature’s art,
not bound to whims of false noblesse.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Categories:
frightfulness, imagery, life, wisdom,
Form: Villanelle
How do you stand the memories?
That hit back at you so hard
Do the faces pop up at you
And the events are relived
In all of their frightfulness
Do you feel bad again and again
Where it doesn’t diminish or retreat
Your defence to it was once strong
Replacing these memories with new ones
But now you are left not looking up
Forever facing inward on yourself
As the black dog wins again
Not needing your permission.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Categories:
frightfulness, depression,
Form: Free verse
Star
Twinkling
Insightfulness.
Shines
Down
Heavenly
Delightfulness.
Shooting
Through
Moonlights
Rightfulness.
Falling
On
Twilight's
Frightfulness.
Categories:
frightfulness, creation, imagery,
Form: I do not know?
I unsteadily
Drift away on an air balloon
Vibrantly glancing at the crowd below the surface,
Sharing my utter enthrallment
I unbelievably
Cascade into the stomach of the churning ocean
Ceaselessly infusing my bleakness at the crowd above,
I disclose my utter frightfulness
I inescapably
Collapse into the bottomless paradise
Intensively eying the crowd before me,
I conceal my devastation
I face
A confrontation between life and demise
I trace
A pathway that unsteadily drifts back to reality
I glimpse at an air balloon released in the swaying wind
And I hope urgently to drift back into ecstasy,
But it’s above the surface…reaching for the universe
And I hope appallingly for another tranquil lifetime
Categories:
frightfulness, confusion, death, fear, imagination,
Form: Free verse