the rhythm changed before the ending came
not with thunder, but with delay.
not with cruelty, but with absence.
calls that once carried warmth became quiet corridors.
Messages arrived like late rain, thin and uncertain.
replies lost their color, their reach, their want.
the distance entered first, then made itself at home.
Sometimes the deepest ache is not betrayal.
It is watching something fade while still holding it gently.
My life's been a 'he's become a broken, bumpy ride.'
I am not sure how many trips I can abide.
While he comes, goes, leaves and slips from my side,
I daydream about a smooth, gentle tide.
It is from our depths we did always confide.
Now his ways seem as secrets the night hides.
I truly need for him to give me clues
about his friends, Moony Trends and Mangled Blues.
Both characters only recently showed
and both seem volatile enough to explode.
He reinforced the cellar door with sandbags
on the outside where yard air is so sour, I gag.
Now he wants to cement the cellar ceiling
and place a bed down there in case a malady
renders him contagious and in need of healing.
I never know what is happening or how the
words 'trust me' are but sad and maddening.
Why does he look to me for assurance
when he self-sources every disturbance?
He has developed such a worrisome act
with reasons that loom vague and inexact.
Seems his sanity is disappearing
and something catastrophic is nearing.
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
There was a time I remember
When life felt dreamy,
Whose memories now seem fuzzy.
How did I realize so soon that life is not Disney?
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
It feels like yesterday when the people in photo frames were with me.
How I wish I could go back and say goodbye happily.
There’s not much I can do but survive in this obligated reality.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
There was a time when I believed in forever,
But now life reminds me that forever can end anytime.
How did I get lost in these streets of uncertainty?
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
Those walls, those gardens, those streets, those halls—
They scream nostalgia, they should remind me of my childhood,
Of the days when my heart didn’t feel heavy.
But for some reason, they stopped meaning anything to me.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
Those people who once belonged to me now belong to everyone.
Not that it hurts me—
It’s just that life feels scary
When I sometimes see myself lonely.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
Right now I can't see you,
Whether that's at home or in the park,
I've been banished.
I wish we could spend these moments together.
Laughing, crying, talking.
I may be unable to ever see you again.
I want you to know that I love you,
More than words can ever describe
Every single second spent with you,
Is a moment I spend in heaven.
I want you to know that I love you,
Everything about you,
From your laugh and smile
To what you see as
Your flaws and imperfections.
I hope this makes it's way to you somehow,
Through air or sea.
I can't tell what the future holds,
But I will give everything,
To make sure you know
That I love you.
In the name of development and sustainability
and to substantiate our dominance
we have provoked so much
chaos and uncertainty.
Now the situation is so vulnerable
we are toiling hard to save
our people.
Hope! things will be normal shortly
We’ll enjoy life usually.
Take care, Stay blessed!
When you gaze upon a Jackson Pollack for the first time
Instantly your mind begins to ponder
What was he thinking?
Where was he going with this?
Can you even call this art?
Who knows what he was thinking, it's not like you can ask him
Did he have to be going somewhere with it?
And yes, you can most definately call his work art.
Art, to many, has to have structure
Has to have specific meaning
But, honestly who declared those to be the rules.....
Even better, who dare slap rules onto art.
Jackson Pollack may have broken the "rules"
But in reality, he showed art in it's rawest form
Art is meant to be whatever you want it to be in that moment
When you gaze deep in the masterpiece of Pollack
Whatever you are feeling, whether it lys upon the surface
Or barried deep with in your subconscious
Your emotions and desires are releashed threw art
It is easy to quickly label art as something that you want it to be,
But just because you place a label on it,
Doesn't mean that you can block it's true statement
And that is whatever you need it to be
So go on, for those of you who seek the truth
Have a look, I dare ya
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.