In the meadows

Listen, the sound of sweet lulling kiss,
In murmuring bay is cast aside a hiss,
Speaks of wisdom and all dark days late,
New Muse in the distant shadow ye hate,
Believe me here when all I say is true
And so slap me twice for hatred through,
Is here but now the art of war in mind,
Known here are keys to write life behind,
How prosaic are the mosaic stars idyllic,
A cool known breeze blows tears so thick.
I cannot sing the air to be so want of it,
Now drops of water in a distant are lit,
A path ye shown ere breaks the heart,
The words it keeps are the ones at heart,
Do you sometimes regret meeting at first?
Do flow’rs bloom when two clouds quench thirst?
And all is awash with silent tears to drown,
A sinking heart to dwell in mind to frown.

And the night;- closes around me,
The silence is but blessing in me,
A curse is love but so is blessed,
A God oft I knew no more to test,
A larking spree in hell’s match,
A heaven known in meagre patch,
So burn me and love is all but lost,
So churn my blood till all is tossed.

Thirty Days and Nights

I am for one so spent in time,
Drew sunken cheeps in bitter rhyme,
Had I not been in past so fitter,
Nor never my lone state come bitter,
Then sat was I in lonely rock unmade,
Sang laments of lone stars to fade,
Then in light’s demise for words bade
Mine hourly depart from sun to hence,
Small my word casts from there whence
Grief conjures me a man to do worse
For simple tale upon my dreary hearse,
For I am distant past in little waste,

The Universe and He

Nor did he not sing from whence he were.
Nor did he climb so high to fall so well.
Nor did he walk through hills and cried.
Nor did he sign his heart to greater foe.
Nor did he look towards the Sun in awe.
Nor did he breathe the evening air so smooth.
Nor did he take himself to still and utter light.
Nor did he not pain himself to greater pleasure.
Nor did he write his purpose etched on heart.
Nor did he seal his bonds to the stars at night.
Nor did he say never shall he try again.

etc..

Big Bad Wolf

Out of the darkness their mighty fall,
From hence they rose ere more they throw,
In light of thirst they yonder grow,
Tender words thought at once so low,
And there begins a triumph better they call:

Wonders then for what he was, whom shall be,
These simple words; his mind so whispered far,
Tuned his mind to the sound his life ne does make,
And threw his eyes at reality’s greatest scar,
Whose life how fret could play not in tune. Ne.

His Universe

Unsound is still and hearth benign,
Which instead becomes strange depart,
His earnest thought comes modest known,
And the saints draw lines from the stars,
The oceans swept and hundreds pass to fall,
By and large this man from centuries hurled,
Who threw no fault except for hands he breach,
Found himself in the distant space afar
And soon shall he in knees to fall despair,
Ere thus he laid to plea for time in peace,
Ere thus he comes to dark is lost for time,
This big bang his mind comes into foray,
Learns that his life is but fraction of this,

Our Light of Woe

There, is light but none and he,
He, but is not the light I knew,

These dims that call me from far,
Is far from him as light never was,

Though mine heart is ill and conjured,
Though conjured is little said but mourn,

Ere morn, my morn is the evening hollow,
Is God more the light and dark too still?

Alas, of the night my light is utter spent,
Is ill before and my sight is hinder lent,

Free are the chains to chain him in time,
In time he shall enter the crossroads lone,

What there is

Observed were these folk who knew to bond,
Is so clever the device that is so fond,
When locked together by not even feet so bare,
Once they travel together, hence they live together,
Indeed was not their minds in bliss never to deter,
This much they knew never show to conform better,
Thus all complex thoughts in them were long erased,
Simple acts that had it in them were gay but phased,
And never did part from their routes to aspire,
How more for time lest cease they respire?
The mornings due but honest wait was long at bay,
In bed each of them their rooms so dark each lay,
Thoughts that start to race ere their minds bestow,
Laughed from times had, what fears locked below,
Like an angel in the dark she walks slow around,
And all happiness is surely but at once a noun,
Sudden faces would twitch and feel then touched,
This fear they locked was the angel unclutched,
All things once they thought they never had,
All the feelings of loneliness once so bad,
At first so vast was their mind another world,
Hurled into great expanses as mountains hurled,
This who they become and they thought was madness,
But surely is not but an angel to show no madness,
That reasons to be alone are reasons for life,
That they shall not stir but confront their strife,
No bigger strife is that against a mind so large,
They’d try for phone and music lest it barge,
At some point they go through roundabouts inside,
They seek a force from the circle of death to budge,
A simple word, or simple act that hurts to lodge,
Then they see themselves in the ire of Solitude,
Who sought themselves no light but long in solace,
Then they learn to accept the darkness in essence,
Then they learn themselves more in presence,
But darkness an all-encompassing drug so potent,
Is wholly the antidote to fulfil ones desires,
Through each moon this thought becomes them,
Through each night they stir closer to mind,
Through each mind lays the blueprint to life.

Within the Widest Space

To envy the past for what it is,
For better nor for worse than is,
The wind that blows slowly passes,
A subtle movement once it stirs, gone,
The buildings stood thus again stood,
The cars that drive shall drive again,
Another day that passes, another sun,
Nor night that covers the eyes soon,
The trees that glide through time,
The clock that still is whole but ticks,
With every tick a drop of rain utters,

An hour for a day

Still as the night brewing,
Is more the night so still,
Shall stop my clock another,
My heart is singing for night,
More night for an hour;
More the night an hour eternal,
Bring the nightingale from rest
Where brings me soothing tales,
Long listened and hence soothed,
An hour, just an hour for a day,
Is all that asks time for once,
Just the day to form mine hour,

By blood and poison

And then I’ll return from when I hence,
Leave me behind I’m only shadow past,
Slower I breathe your name how shallow,
A single kiss to break my loving fast,
A darker emblem that binds me apart,
Hide me under the Earth nor to speak,
Weeping is me in feet of neither feats,
Gather the thorns their poison’s peak;
Wrap thy neck round the cold wreathes,
Return me from me into you and see,