Yearning burns
Like severed ties,
Across the tides of time
Where our love still resides.
Twisted irony
The fates are crule
To steal us away from the others embrace.
To join us again without loves grace.
The unrequited is gut-wrenching agony.
Why do we suffer?
Mutual feelings are redirected.
My pain for her, is hers for another
All the same, unreflected.
Twisted irony
The fates are cruel.
My muse
My bemusement.
I regret nothing
Save for what is beyond our control.
Who am I, a mere man to question fate?
I must bury this now.
Am I so bold?
For my own survival my heart must grow cold.
If only for a little while.
Her smile still warms my soul.
Twisted irony.
~ 2021
Just a man alone in thought
The darkness overtakes me.
Content with the solace it hath brought
The silence, it awakes me.
Tired & weary in physical state
My soul calls out & mind berates.
Average mind of mad proportions
Why must you create such distortion?
Heart, trembling with wonder
Desire to feel torn asunder.
Find myself, rejuvenated, new day brings new life.
Different time, same old soul, anew created, retaining all its strife.
I mean not to sound cold or disconnected, habits of old formed once more by lessons unreflected.
Eyes that see time aloft, mysteries revealed.
All upon a mad man gone sane who must keep his secrets sealed.
~ 2018
The creature
Denies criminal guilt
Pain
Torture
Bodily injury
Captivated and frightened
unreflected thoughts
24/09/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Paint A Picture
7 lines and 14 Words using the Septolet form
Sponsored by: Joseph May
3rd place in the contest
Writing about life…
he was powerless over death,
life was what he was good at
Death, a combination
of all he would never understand
and all he would never accept
It was a major failing,
never to bring closure or a period
to the end of his sentence
Along a road predestined,
mirrored by the face of denial,
redemption unreflected—beyond his view
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Three walk the path to darkness on this night--
one to embrace, one to observe, and one
Deus ex Machina, a travesty
of the divine; the role is mine to serve
as I create. I am death's man.
There is a fissure in the earth
and I must stand alone
upon the other side
against all time.
Though on another day I might
perform the hero's art,
there is no part of me
that may be left to be redeemed.
I am death's man.
It matters not that my commission is
but once or many times--
that I am sweet and fair,
that I may laugh and lust
and forswear luxury before
all humankind,
I am death's man.
There is a shell around me; though it is
invisible, it still may hide
the gaping wound upon my heart.
It was my choice to be unique
although I could not know
the ultimate perfection
of that dull inchoate dread
which gathered over me
when I became death's man.
And do I pray, you say?
No hope, no penitence
may reach the void inside of me.
My smile alone is alien
and unreflected in return.
It is I you do not know,
nor may I ever fathom you.
How may it be
the beating of your heart
resounds in me?
Now stand aside.
I am death's man.
~
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