Time fleeting, it washes away with the tears of longing.
As each moment passes into another, with no way to
replay those seconds. Feeling it’s lost as I do your
presences.Oh, turn stop those hands. To freeze those
seconds. To stop time in it’s tracks so that I may once
more relive our untamed passion..MB.
This so reminds me of a song by Rush, “Time stand still”, if only time could be stopped so as to linger and savor those fleeting moments just a little longer….
You
Hold the key to my heart
And to all those other places
That don’t require a key
I allow you full
And total access
I love you
My Beloved
~The Sensual Starfish
Missed….
Knowing what you had and walking away,
Tears streaking the sky on a sunny day.
Head held high, mask on tight,
Shielding your heart within the blight.
Memories strong in the mind,
Bashing the walls down in time.
Words bitten off on the tongue,
To be sucked back into the lungs.
Emotions in check to the desert of the day,
Loneliness my old companion returns for a stay.
A.H.
In this life I’ve known too many days that pasted like this to count, now a distant memories but still too easily recalled…
An original poem luv? *hugs*
There is a wolf:
He hides in tender skin,
and beneath my own,
running in shallow veins,
and deep deep within.
The tendrils he weaves,
light shadows in the forests
hidden within my heart,
dying of a lovers thirst.
My red cloak is stained
with the blood of my downfall,
and the tears of those who
have worn this cloth before me.I am the sheep,
that has lost her way.
The long forgotten,
abandoned prey.I am my own defender.
There is no bastion to my name.But in my defense,
I have found my own destruction.
I have found the reality,
of why this cloak and my hands
are stained with drying blood:Oh I am the wolf.
I was always the wolf.
Living and breathing
Dying and weeping
Sorrow and sadness
Happiness, madness
Who’s to blame for the poor girl’s feelings
her death and her love,
and her own shallow breathing
He smiled so lovingly
He kissed her so rough
But the poor little girl
Took the ending so tough
Around came the…
Nice poem, if sad (and the writer is a Sims 2 lover too).
and make no sound; they
would hear us cry the end
of isolation,
hear us dead and leave
no mark, no meaning.
They
would steal our secrets
and tell us none
of their own. So,
wordless, we must talk
of things we do not
know, touch
the earth verbatim
for music, for sound.
And
should we fingertip
each sound ungraciously,
the silences would rebel.
No doubt that art,
and we,
are nothing to
| — |
James Strecker ~ (Schoenberg: Klavierstücke Opus 11 & Opus 23) From Variations on Genius - A cycle of poems inspired by the life and recordings of Glenn Gould, and commissioned by The International Glenn Gould Society for presentation at the Glenn Gould Festival in Groningen, The Netherlands, in October of 1992 via ginger-ninja(via frenchtwist) |
I wander these hollowed halls,
The children’s laughter now muted
By an unnatural emptiness,
A softness to the once solid walls.
Damned at every turn by the twin entities,
Perspective and perception, in my quest,
Seeking the elusive flower, a Lilly called truth.
The once bright dwelling now dim,
Cobwebs of deceit and mistrust,
In the alcoves hidden in the gloom,
Where once the light of an older code held court.
I bemoan the fate of souls who have pasted through the gate,
Now barred and locked.
A pure voice lost to the night, silent.
I lament the fate of souls who’s quest unrealized will remain,
The righteous way lost in twilight and shadow.
Was it an illusion, believed by the fool,
The brief shining moment of Camelot reborn,
Or just sadly a moment now past.
| — |
~Me~ About friends now scattered to the wind and a place long deserted. |
