The morning is kind to me when I awaken
She dallies in waiting till I first peep my eyes
As one is half open and t'other half closed
Yet, both can detect her fresh, golden grin.
"Stay away darkness!" she seemingly says
"At least for now, let me take my turn"
So, darkness agrees and sleeps for a while
And the morning is grateful and laughs with the sun.
As the deer in the meadow bound for the woods
(The cover of darkness now is forfeit)
For, the trespassing deer are really quite shy
And morning has stalked them, back to their haunt.
Still, the morning is bold and hurries ahead
Nought stops her now, not even the rain,
As she braves it head on and shines through the diamonds
Gifting a rainbow, by my window to end.
But my window is closed and the rainbow stalls
And peers at himself in his own reflection
"Who is the fairest ?" asks he to himself,
He, gazing right back as the window is glass.
And what of myself ? what, then, of me ?
Remorses of yesterday spill all about
Then, the kind morning whispers (soon before noon)
"Ah! that was before - today, it is new!"
Categories:
remorses, good morning, morning, rainbow,
Form: Free verse
Ten summers have passed since I wandered there last
Though I've never forgotten the way.
Many times, I have thought that maybe I ought
Let tendency lead me astray.
When once I was young and springtime had sprung
And all of the day was sunlit.
It was then I was swayed by a maudlin charade
Much more than I care to admit.
How demons evoke when we met by the oak
Blaze whispered and purred in our ears;
I think of it yet, during evening's onset,
It has stayed with me down through the years.
Then time scurried by and so you and I
Were mislaid in a blizzard, so cold,
Where time is the thief of forbidden belief
And sombre remorses grow old.
Yet today I don't mind of the times when I find
Reflections bear all that remain.
I know that, alas, ten winters could pass
Before I may go there again.
Categories:
remorses, nostalgia, remember,
Form: Rhyme
another fruitless day
alas, a buck unearned
uninvolved in the fray
nary a lesson learned
o time, where hast thou gone
where's the spring of my life
whence lovers embraced none
daily struggling in the strife
where, the hours in their haste
have transpired unbeknown
o, the chatter, what a waste
mindly doings of my own
seeking every worldly pleasure
as fleeting as they did turn
wasted o, that divine treasure
youth, begone, not to return
now as I become senile
my soul still youthful and bold
wishes it had seen the Nile,
the Seine, overseas lovers untold
an old man full of remorses
little wisdom, hardly lore
still battling the wild horses
fighter, warrior evermore
for when i stared at the roses
sadly saw with great dismay
how quickly life decomposes
how short is the month of may
then i failed to recognize
that time waits for no man
old age hasn't made me wise
perhaps. when i pass it can
Categories:
remorses, life, wisdom,
Form: Rhyme
in a
time before
wings
on horses
we
made
our
remorses
Categories:
remorses, abuse, addiction, animal,
Form: Free verse
It only takes one.
One kiss, one grab, or one touch.
An unwelcoming rush of fear courses through your body.
A searing memory forever stuck with you.
A feeling brought by one whose remorses are few.
One thrust into my temple and I am no longer sound.
You've burned yourself a place in my heart and that I'll never be able to undo.
One kiss, one touch and another tear shed.
I'll never be able to remove these thoughts of dread.
Categories:
remorses, abuse, anxiety, fear, grief,
Form: Free verse
I.
The night hangs heavy in this room.
Only dead-folk live here now,
Except me: my eye-fires burn -
Angers, regrets, remorses turn
Lazy circles, dancing silent
In bodies of these dead-folk
They have stolen. What right have they?
I – I bid them go; they stay.
II.
There’s nothing for it, nothing for
This illness – no nostrum, potion, nor salve,
Magic nor science – all in vain.
Shall anything heal this heart-made blain?
Yet who is ill? Not I – it’s them!
These dancing bodies – no part of me.
Not even mine. “I divorce thee! -
Ah, ah, it’s no use – impotent fury.
Am I mad? A moonbeam splashes
Across the sill, vaguely lighting
My room, in which I am alone.
III.
‘Tis the curse of the godless age:
My Venus lies dead, impaled
On my floor, washed in moon-light.
The dead-folk speared her, then took flight.
We shared the moon-lit solitude,
My dead Venus and I, her wound
Yet fresh and bleeding. The silver spear
Pierced her heart. I draw her near.
Night-terrors must I face again.
Alone now.
Alas – how?
Categories:
remorses, grief, heartbreak, lost love,
Form: Romanticism
One day, in the woods, I heard chatter, and seeing
Shrubs move on a trail, came across the famed dwelling
Of elves, those immortal, most bashful of beings
Defending the mountains and darkness dispelling.
Two fanciful creatures of myth were together,
With hair soft as sunlight and robes in rich fettle;
They played in the meadows, refreshed by the weather,
And butterflies came in their closeness to settle.
I sought to remain in my hiding, enchanted
By beauty and wisdom refused to the mortals.
Alas, I was seen and with scorn reprimanded,
Forbidden to enter the magical portal.
I left as I envied the luck which is granted
To some, here on earth, by the whim of blind forces,
While others must suffer the seed which is planted
In frail hearts to stir and inflame new remorses.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
remorses, beauty, fantasy, myth, mythology,
Form: Rhyme
Foul infamy! You left into decay
The noble home your kin earned with their blood!
The crumbling walls stand proof that you must pay,
And that despair will drag you through the mud.
Lone misery! How truly fateful it must be
The errors of green youth to see at last,
To taste of bitterness and sense the vast
And scorching desert of a conscience never free!
Grim idleness! The silver gleam of dawn
Is but a horrid cloud of gloom upon your realm!
Unmoved by faith or hope, you whine and yawn
And wither in remorse when at the helm.
Blue melancholy! Dreadful is your heavy weight
When lifeless winter plagues the sullen heart
And hopes or cherished dreams are torn apart
While old remorses sing their songs too late!
Crass ignorance! How many times you’ve crashed
The ship of steadfast toil upon the shore of doom!
The sturdy boat by soaring cliffs was smashed
The day you dug the mariners their tomb.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
remorses, anger, depression, hope,
Form: Rhyme