Shades of dull titanium unwavering
illume~ A Wistful evanescence is she
Her orbs light gifts us freely
Micro Poem - 4/29/25 Seventeen Words
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Wistful
Winter flees on
Pensive wings
Leaving behind ephemeral ice
Longs to taste warm sunlight -
Inhale lilac’s perfume.
traipsing down moonlight's path
bamboo sway on errant winds
jasmine perfumes the air ~
scent of wistful memories
running on empty
longing unfulfilled
hearing only echoes
deja vu enthralls
written on tenement halls
subway walls
Wistful,
wondering why.
Weeping.
She cried alone,
as she sat
on rugged rock,
ruing she ever loved.
Placed 2
forlorn
woebegone
in
pensive
musing
this
yearning
this
longing
melancholy
becomes
a
rueful
pining
almost
nostalgic
contemplation
I am the remnants of a man,
The embers, not the fire;
I am the leavings in the can,
The smile without desire.
Dreaming of castles in the sky
wishing that I could drop by
I could maybe learn to fly
Seeing unicorns passing
silvery coats glistening
as sun beams are shining
Leaping frogs croaking
at flies that are teasing
by merely swooping
Trees are slowly creeping
ashes and oaks are bowing
forest is breathing
Ah dreams escaping
each is speaking
leaving me wondering
I’m getting old, and where I live I doubt
I’ll see it any more, except maybe on screen
When troubled towns are featured in the news,
Or in those festive greetings cards with sleighs
Or frozen pines, perhaps a coach or deer
And mystery. Always its rarity was there,
And as a child I’d pray for it to come,
To fall like magic as in Dickens’ days,
One welcome night when soft and silent
Flakes began. But mostly it would not.
No land made perfect for our eyes.
No waking to a world of white for us,
It happened somewhere else, where people
Hated it, it seemed. And so with every
Other thing: some love, some hate
And none have choice. For life itself is thus.
I felt alone, though there were multiple crowds around me.
I felt, I should go to a lonely place and cry aloud.
Why, though the environs are full of flowers, there's no glee?
Death snatches the joys of the humble as well as the proud.
You were young. You, often, dreamed of a new heaven and earth.
Your thoughts, words, actions, and aspirations shone with newness.
You said you would define the fate that defined each one's birth.
Amidst your shrewdness, there was in you coolness and smoothness.
You were a friend to all. Your heart was full of love for all.
You were as uncommon as a blue moon or a shooting star.
Why should Destiny rudely send you an untimely call?
Why should you, as though the life here is not enough, go far?
Will those blissful days of fun and frolic ever come back?
Will my wistful moments, towards optimism find their track?
"Wistful/Wishful: sometimes if a word can ever be realized, just an 'alphabet' change will suffice," ... by the Poet
The coconuts have gone awry,
and its fronds they seemed to deny,
their stumped stilts beaches pierce the sky,
an empty beach where birds fly by,
no imprint sole of surfing guy,
except I write the reasons why,
appropriate it with a sigh.
It's because of the lava flow,
in "83 nobody knows,
but then it started the big show,
at first, 'twas small and started slow,
until it grown, and grow, and grow,
the forest like a mower, mow,
night sky turned an orangey glow.
Since "83 it kept its pace,
it filled the ridge, a lengthy space,
then poured downhill like in a race,
the town lay at the mountain base,
lava came, the town prayed then braced,
home after home, place after place,
pierce a lifetime shown on their face.
The mountain lava met the sea,
wherefrom my hometown used to be,
everyone is an absentee,
all now have a new addressee,
and they are new hometown adoptees,
how can poetic words air-free,
for one who's wistful presently.
Like branches of a rooted, sturdy tree
my family survives- each limb entwined.
__by Poet
So wistful are my thoughts since Easter day:
my husband, children, grandkids, and great-grands,
were with me at our home- a getaway
for some who traveled far to all join hands;
show how our family's deep love expands.
Then came goodbyes, not knowing where or when
a chance will come when we all meet again-
be all together, gathered in one place;
fulfill my hope, that this craved wish will then
uplift my wistful heart as we embrace.
"The pain is deep when the heart is spent"...Poet
Your face floats through my mind
in vaporous wistful dreams of illusion
that drape over my soul
in an invisible cloak of yearning
the footprints you left on the soft ground
as you vanished in the shadows
when the rain poured
the last cold kiss devoid of feeling
frozen by the heart's emotional collapse
these are visions of melancholy
that dance with me
on a floor of vacuous emptiness I found
where nostalgia is a hard shattered shard of lament
that lay scattered across my mind
in sobs of burning torment
that form a wistful smile to cover my forlorn face
whenever you appear so present
Quote: "“I love you and that’s the beginning and end of everything.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald1.
As soon as I came home,
She waited by the door,
No inkling of when I'd roam,
Love's footsteps yearning for more.
Thoughts of love, they dance, unsure,
Caged desires like a bird's sweet cries,
She longed to break free, to procure,
Yet deep love kept her ties.
Now, no one's there, just the floor,
I wait, doorbells silent chimes,
In solitude, I explore,
Echoes of love in these times.
In the stillness of the night's embrace,
I seek solace, finding grace.
Memories dance, a bittersweet song,
Echoes of love, once so strong.
Alone I stand, yet not alone,
For love's essence I've ever known.
Though she may not be by my side,
Her love in my heart will forever abide.
Through the silence, whispers of love,
Echoes from the heavens above.
In each moment, I find my way,
Guided by love's eternal ray.
When I think how my life could be,
I see how life isn’t good for me.
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