Hand in hand
Grass of Parnassus envelopes;
Our legacy shall live on
As the orchards
Tenderly nurtured
Firmly rooted
On the edge of possibility
Arriving at the age of tomorrow
Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
I’m trying to hold on to something moving,
Something to breathe life into me,
Because everything is static,
Everything seems sufficiently dead.
Ice giving in to fire,
Fire, too frustrated to melt the ice,
Even the fire seems cold,
Its element, has the world lost,
Dust has conquered the air,
The air has become too heavy for one’s to breathe,
No one has died, but there’s a reason to grieve.
I see the devil dressed as an angel,
But only I have that knowledge,
A knowledge that I consider a curse,
Nothing I would share with someone else,
I see a smile, they all admire,
My bruises are shown, suddenly seem clear,
They think my envy is turning into fear,
But I am not to tell why we’re both here,
When angels come a devil goes,
But when a fallen angel dies another on falls,
They gave me knowledge but not the power,
Wake up, the rain is gone,
The sun is up, cozy and warm,
He said as he took his umbrella and coat,
“What kind of paradox is this?” as he left I thought.
I enter my brain and go back to a time,
My mind told me she will stay forever but days went by,
And as fast as a weary man closes his eyes to sleep,
Her departure like a knife ran fast to cut me so deep.
You change shapes before I could memorize them,
Your temper I learned by the heart,
I keep following the same rhythm,
When you decide all over again I have to start.
You have one hand on my mouth and one holding me down,
Then a third arm appears to hold me from the waist,
Suddenly you’re an octopus and I know we will drown,
That thought is a weight held on my chest.
Sitting in what should be a state of joy,
A celebration and everybody’s content,
But my heart is stuck in a funeral,
To be Pleased and happy I couldn’t pretend.
I’m not like anyone I don’t belong with any crowd,
My face speaks, my eyes screams,
But no one could hear me cause the music is very loud,
And being heard was one of my far-off dreams.
You can leave him and go to heaven,
but still you choose to dance with the devil,
He makes you feel warm with his cold eyes,
In your ears he whispers his well known lies,
He holds your hands with his,
filled with blood,
he makes you think he’s the only hope you got,
He brings you beautiful gown
then compliment it,
At a point you wish he had never sent it,
His eyes will kill your joy, steal your youth,