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Literature Text
If only the rain would stop falling,
So that my face will not be drenched
If I look somewhere other than down.
If only the sky cleared to reveal
The shining eye of heaven, so that
I can know I am not forsaken.
If only I could stop from playing that song
Reminding me of the treasure I cannot grasp,
Of the woman I stand far away from.
If only I could sleep, to forget my toil
And my troubles, and wake up after
I have forgotten all about myself.
If only the snow came to shroud this city
So I can take joy in its white gleam,
Its numbing cold, and reflect my smile
In the ice-covered sidewalk.
If only all knowledge fled from men's mind,
And no secret could stab me deeply
Like stilettos that assassinate my spirit.
If only I could run, run so fast that time
Will not ravage my hope, so fast that
I can leave her in my past, behind me.
If only I could stop from writing these poems,
A foolish man’s inarticulate verses
That shames the name of “poet.”
If only I could stop seeing you in my mind,
Every hour, every second, every day, every minute.
If only I could stop loving.
So that my face will not be drenched
If I look somewhere other than down.
If only the sky cleared to reveal
The shining eye of heaven, so that
I can know I am not forsaken.
If only I could stop from playing that song
Reminding me of the treasure I cannot grasp,
Of the woman I stand far away from.
If only I could sleep, to forget my toil
And my troubles, and wake up after
I have forgotten all about myself.
If only the snow came to shroud this city
So I can take joy in its white gleam,
Its numbing cold, and reflect my smile
In the ice-covered sidewalk.
If only all knowledge fled from men's mind,
And no secret could stab me deeply
Like stilettos that assassinate my spirit.
If only I could run, run so fast that time
Will not ravage my hope, so fast that
I can leave her in my past, behind me.
If only I could stop from writing these poems,
A foolish man’s inarticulate verses
That shames the name of “poet.”
If only I could stop seeing you in my mind,
Every hour, every second, every day, every minute.
If only I could stop loving.
Literature
Epiphany
Epiphany
Awake now and leaning
into my own
shadow,
a dim moment passing,
another beginning
slow and slowly unfinished
Literature
Envious
Everything she has,
I want.
I want to be thin,
to have her curves,
her beautiful shaped eyes,
dancing and perfect green.
I want to have men stop,
stare, willing to do anything,
for a moment of my time,
as they do her.
I want to be so loved,
so spoiled.
Men offer her jewelry,
trips, cars, clothes...
everything they have,
just for her attention.
Anything she wants,
is hers for the asking.
I want to have her long legs,
able to go dancing,
whenever she wants,
as long as she wants.
To be able to wear...
sexy clothes,
fine jewelry,
delectable shoes.
To not be laughed at,
to be desired...
I want to be he
Literature
Unfinished
My body feels so untouched, needing and wanting.
Craving a brush of your fingertips against chapped crimson lips.
I need you and some how I can't forget you,
The memory of you carved into minds wooden dreams.
My heart screams silently wanting you here inside
It's bloody crannies and dull nooks.
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Something I thought about after listening to Ojalá by Silvio Rodríguez. Sometimes, I do feel like this. Right now, I can't tell how I feel. Maybe I'm just fine. Maybe I need sleep. I don't know.
© 2009 - 2024 Swords-and-Bandages
Comments63
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This so beautiful and visually penned. Poems of the heart, will get me every single time...