Short Melancholies Poems

Black and grey—
half-dead, half-forgotten,
etched in silence, waiting.

Thou to draw, thou to withdraw,
tracing echoes, tracing the traces,
cursed yet, blessed.

Now, I sit, tracing
the scars of the ruby,
fingers brushing against old omens
in the reflection’s cold embrace.

(I know the echoes all too well—
for I am the one who breathes life
into the melancholies in my head.)

...

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Floating as in a misty gloom,
Peering through the obscurity,
Daunting apparition above me,
Shades do glimmer across heavens.
Disguised from eyes,
By way of the swirls between us,
Summer crescent cries out.
Shining upon the misty dew,
Glistening upon its purity,
I am here; listen to hear.
My words from ancient times,
Through creation, I see.
Melancholies as well delight.
Mystical fantasy I present.
Upon appearance in dark,
One appellation,
Titles of many,
Luna is one....

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A virtual reality runs slowly
In my over-trodden heart
No more agonies make me happy now
That I enjoyed in the past.

Like a flock of homecoming birds
Milky melancholies run
Bending downwards droop, stoop and
Get their port at last.

Doleful dismal sadness vast
I have in my wounded heart
Nothing remains
Not even dizziness mark
But a heap of only sparkling dark.

Cockroach corpus ant or lizard
Nobody gets wet near or far
That a silent cry
Doesn’t have any single drop of tear....

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