Details |
Tyler Iron Poem
I have my platinum muse
It is a flighty, windy memory
Of a memorable, miserable encounter
With someone that reminded me...
I have not even fooled myself
Into believing something so weak
As the crippled, dying cupid
That is love at first sight.
The woman I am marrying,
Wasn't loved at first glance
She was a shallow puddle of mud
At my eyes first introduction.
Though, as I splashed in the mud
I was swept off my feet
Back into the primal wilderness
Of a child at play.
Caila makes me truly happy
Like a young boy
Tenderizing his stomping ground
After a heavy spring rain.
When the mud dried
I knew it was the remains
Of a memory when I was a child
Of being happier than ever.
What rose from those sterile ashes
Was a woman, a beautiful woman
She has flecks of gold in her veins
Eyes that emeralds envy
She didn't come and go,
Like the coy but beautiful Emma
Emma is only comparable
To a whiff of a nostalgic scent
Caila is my golden totem
Every moment we spend
Is frozen in time
Comatose, in its prime
Caila is my one true love
When that is no longer a fact
I will have forgotten about Emma
Completely, but sweetly.
Copyright © Tyler Iron | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Tyler Iron Poem
How amusing is the missing muse
When I can't write on my true love
Rather, I sit here and imagine
The whereabouts, of Emma.
I would be a liar
If I told you that I never wonder
About Emma and her shimmering shield
Of anonymous perfection.
It had been four days since I knew her
As person and a woman
Now she only resides
In the stark cove, of a theory.
In that sense, she is older than me...
She has existed in mythology
Or the hypothesis of pure love,
Within the dust of a romantic codex.
Her scattered remains touch everything
Like one could say, like God would
But there is something very different
About the residual harmony, of Emma.
The idea of existence as an idea
Is something I will never touch
But the apple fell on Newton's head
So under a tree, I sit.
I live in the shade and constant danger
Of fruitful death from above
Maybe Emma will suddenly appear
On my mind
In the form of something sweet...
Like an apple.
Copyright © Tyler Iron | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Tyler Iron Poem
Calm down.
The words that were disconnected.
Why are you afraid, again?
Perhaps, the tenderness of my lyric
Or the striking reflection that is sane to love
You told me I speak with grace
I saw no hesitance in the text
I truly believe
I watched you get consumed by the snares of doubt
It slowly infected you and tore you away
Leaving only a memory and the can I left
I watch the string; still like the dead spiders’ web
And wait for you to pick it up
Right where I left it
In between ‘I like you’ and ‘I think i really like you’
I hold my can to my ear
Listening to the silence
Always getting fooled by the wind
Thinking it is you, only not as pure
The can will always be there, Emma,
Don’t hesitate to talk to me, once again.
Copyright © Tyler Iron | Year Posted 2010
|