"Please don't
make me
block you,"
he said
in spite.
Now why
would you
threaten me
with such a
good time?
If an Aries
ever tells you
this it's all
by divine
design.
Perhaps you
should live
a happier life
and be a bit
less uptight
"Twin flames"
are unreal
this we know
to be true
and right.
Who knows why
you're so
desperate for
a woman's fire
at night.
I loved the sorrows
Of your changing face
And dream of the soft glaze
of your green eyes
And their shadows deep
How many loved your moments
Of glad grace
Exuding tender kindness
Shall you exist only in one’s
Deep desires.
Header
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: THROUGH AESTHETICA
Date:July 18, 2026
MIDNIGHT IN VELVET
In blue midnight she wore deep purple velvet, a crown of thorns in silk,
To meet her love where moonlight cut the dark like broken glass.
Love whispered in the ocean of fear, a tide that pulled and broke,
Two shadows danced while the night held its breath, alas.
Soulmates split by a black hole of sorrow, stars swallowed whole,
Tears fell like rain on velvet, drowning every silent vow.
A single shoe left lost behind, a fit that cruel time stole,
Before we turned to golden ashes, we sang our last song now.
I know someone, who is always there
The sorrows and victories,I can ,no doubt share.
A bond so deep,strong and precious
One who is regarded, being gracious.
A true friend, a guide,a protector
Paves the path to success,being a rector.
One who encourages, is always ready to sacrifice
His love and affection is vast,never dies.
He is there to cheer up and listen
With my success, his eyes always glisten.
He his benevolent, provides endless guidance
He is empathetic, with inbuilt patience.
To have him,is a divine blessing
My heart beats ,forever to sing
He,who is a hero,a selfless being
He is my Father, for me, he is a King...
Regret is my hopeful desert
Blooming prickly sorrows
Larger than saguaros
What ifs as vultures fly
As virga clouds pass by
Watering lapis mirages
Flowing to retro success
In a palm-limned oasis
Of dream-filled love and embraces
‘Til what ifs disappear with dawn
In time to rouse and mow my lawn
IN ECHOED MEAN SORROWS TO HER
(A Tanka Duet)
Peace rang the doorbell:
“Sorry, you’re at the wrong door.”
“We only do wars:-”
At the next door, she heard:
“Sorry, we’ve no vacancies.”
Moving on, peace heard,
“Your sorry butt got some nerves!”
“Get the hell away!”
In sorrow, Peace keeps belling;
Hoping one day, its God’s door:-
The sorrows we borrow,
the sorrows we keep—
are debts of the dead,
replayed in our sleep.
Blood writes the tally,
blood writes it in red;
tomorrow collects
what yesterday bled.
The sun drags its shadow.
The sun drags its shroud—
darkness advancing
cowering aloud.
Dry eyes at dawn.
Ashes inbred;
a prayer in the dust,
a prayer for the dead.
The sun flares faintly,
a wound in the sky.
The clouds part briefly,
yet cold will not die.
What was served yesterday
lies rotting today;
a banquet of abstinence,
a plate of decay.
Tears must be borrowed.
Tears must be sown;
the covenant is endless,
the debt as ever has grown.
I am summoned.
I am again sworn—
to gather the blood,
to nourish the thorn,
to water dead flowers,
for sorrow's reborn.
To Die
I numb my brain to ease the pain
The world is mad...a new insane
Compassion's seen with such disdain
The truth now seems so very plain
To die would be considered gain
***********************************
Alone
Alone, alone...always alone
The pain I feel cannot be known
This heart of flesh has turned to stone
Alone, alone...I am alone
Alone, alone...always alone
My dreams on wistful wings have flown
Depression has usurped my throne
Alone, alone...I am alone
Alone, alone...always alone
The wind gives voice to primal groan
This world no empathy has shown
I'll live, I'll die, and rest...alone
**********************************
In the vault of sorrows, the lights are dim,
Memories dangle stiff, stark, cold and grim.
In glass-fronted vaults of remains half-dead,
Haunting to avenge losses, regrets and dread.
Bitterness is grit, dust and rust—
Metal relics wrapped in tempered crust.
Too sharp to hold, too old to appeal,
Scars embalmed, behind bars of steel.
Fur skins and feathered bones, long dead.
Eyes once bright, are now glass instead.
Stuffed with pride, stitched in despair,
They rage within riles, gasping for air.
Old garments show arguments, long of old,
With threadbare cuffs, and buttons of gold.
They're sour of fit, and hung too tight,
To ever again leave shadows in bright sunlight.
Such bitterness belongs in museum displays.
Where you can visit it on sad, rainy rue days.
To see such hateful feeling-disheveled, dismembered.
Covered in dust, to be forgotten, not remembered.
Lock it up, behind the glass, don’t let it breathe,
Bitterness will bloom, when we fail to believe.
It should be kept under lock and key.
Where all such sour sorrows, are meant to be.
Meant to be, Meant to be-!
That's the key, That's the key!
The ocean is home to a curation of shells,
The type you admire, the kind you call into,
The ones that whisper stories the sea never tells.
The peach and the pink, the pastels and the white —
All of them bring such a sense of delight.
I trace my finger over each and every grove and indent,
Each fracture and dent,
Wondering what they have seen, and what places they went.
I wonder if they are signs — heaven-sent.
This poet wonders — does she know the truth that is grand?
The shell that is pretty mesmerizes those little eyes
While the sea calls out her name for help.
Sand between her toes and wind through her hairs,
She felt every emotion one feels at a shore.
The next scene was haunting — it took away her innocence.
Fishes started to wash up on the shore,
The water began to form bubbles.
As she looked at her mother, who
Whispered with her eyes-
“Sorry, my precious little baby,
Forgive the humankind,
For the future we will leave behind.”
Let all bye gone
Be bye gone
The preacher man
Keeps teaching
Let them correct you
When you're wrong
Be guided, so you don't go astray.
Wake up he says
From the darkness
Come into the light
He keeps teaching
In the light no deceit
You see and know
Everything behind, beside and ahead of you.
The people always
Endure and enjoy his teaches
Wisdom he always teach
His words are so edifying and wise
He's always ready for questions
Truth what he always teaches
He's steadily liberating the people from their sorrows.
Life is but a song of sorrows,
Days can feel like miserable melodies.
Our heartstrings plucked,
Chords that resonate with tragedy.
The beating drum, a dark percussion,
Can serve as rhythm to the chorus of our love and joy.
That which is memorized by heart,
In every generation, the song is sung.
In every life, a note is played—
Lows entwined with our highest moments,
Giving credence to suffering,
Unifying our spirits in a grand orchestra,
Composing a symphony of our very soul.
My friend, how deep can be your sorrows?
Through smoke filled maze of modern days
When time flies by in bleary haze
And we don't know about tomorrow?
Your eyes, once bright and full of life,
Nowdays, instead, to my dismay,
Are filled, like rainy days of May,
With hate, and pain, and fright.
No, you can't plea, no, you can't flee,
'Cause life is known for no compassion.
Your lust for it and inner passion
Have been dried up, like bloodless fleas.
Yet we don't know of what's to be.
You shed your nightly tears in bed,
But love, I beg you, please, don't fret,
And share them here, with me.
The lonely shadow aside from the worldly poles
Wrenching like an unhidden find to hold
And the horrible ink of dreadful poison swiftly mold
Eyes were injurious red like a bleeding bed
Thoughts of frightful threads wrap
and rashly roll the clutching traps
Shadow envelopes like a black door
Tears were tip and tapped one after more
Shadow of shades deeply shallows
Only the gist of suffering and melting melodies
Are fluttering over the sleuth of emotion
God knows the happening in cores of motion
Sometimes, a burial bleed on the surface
Lips bewail like a snubbing scroll
And silence echoes in the cavernous hell
All Alone in the stiff stage of sicks to bell.
Full moons fill you with joy, seldom the New,
And pleasure you conceive as good, not pain,
Let me like New Moon that stars can I view,
As some poets devise ways pain to feign,
Which, helps them pen dirges and elegies,
Funeral hymns and odes of laments long,
Let them. Days-nights on an eternal lease,
One can’t be sans its endless twain on song.
You know, this world is made of dancing duals,
We mortals go for one over the ‘ther,
We tend to choose one of them and fight duels,
The twain though in its dance go together.
So, let us enjoy full moon till it lasts,
Even new moon, you’ll see fair magic casts.
E’en God could not have cast coins single side,
Yea, joy without grief, what a groom-less bride!
_________________________
Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) |02.06.06, revised December 2024|
Poet’s note: A couple enjoys its togetherness under full moon, which the lady liked more. The husband also liked the new moon for a reason. He has his reasons to fall in love with both, or none. Finally, the lady sees the point and adds her own additional couplet at the end of their sonnet.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.