May

The trees are beautiful green
We’ve already entered May
Then why the hell I ask you
Are the days still f*cking grey?

 

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To get me out

Tides may turn, turn the dead end roads within me
Turn back time towards me. Waves of infinity
To wash ashore and leave me be.

Uselessly.

Bring hope, give it to the trembling body.
I waited ages for us to meet and lay floating
In my inner desiring sea.

Patiently.

Listen to a conscious voice inside me
Run. Now. Flee.
Don’t watch the tides turn – they trick
Your mind as you trick me.

Deadly-
it’s never. You will survive and see
Overwhelming waves drowning
The certitude that used to be.

Lost within the disarray of my body,
I refuse to obey this. I refuse to comply.
Rather trying to find out cunningly
Whether I’m wasting my time and me.

Eternally.

But there’s ends to everything, you see.
I’ve always known this, supposedly.
Perhaps denied the upcoming, too badly,
Because of your chest and hands and all – manly…

I could turn my back and walk away,
Create this end so viciously.
Going under in my sea, indistinctly.
Putting an order to things again, as it should be.

To get me out.
To get me.

Finally.

 

*What you get when you spent an hour reading about literature and poetry. You start to hope that one day, they’ll analyze your writings. You try to write something. You fail at catching what you wanted to catch within these words. But somehow, I’m still a bit proud. I somehow got to say a bit of what I wanted to say.
Reading and understanding’s up to you.*

What’s the point of forgetting…?

A Song

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
And I sat near.
The handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car,
and you'd shift the gear.
We'd find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we'd repair
to where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish I knew no astronomy
when stars appear,
when the moon skims the water
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,
in this hemisphere,
as I sit on the porch
sipping a beer.
It's evening, the sun is setting;
boys shout and gulls are crying.
What's the point of forgetting
if it's followed by dying?

Joseph Brodsky

Time goes faster than I could believe, therefore I was convinced I had posted something recently... 
Dear lord, where did all those other days go? 
This poem fits in the melancholia I've been talking off before, but I wanted to share it anyways. 
I found it in my manual on literature, and it struck me with its simplicity and truth.

To darkness and to me

Nothing but footsteps in an empty street.

No one to see. Sleep, people, sleep.

Keep your world small – pillow, human, sheet.

I will stay awake. I’ll walk.

There’s hunger I’ve caused which I must feed.

I know I shouldn’t run away.

Take me there, take the lead.

Force me to stay, make me talk.

I can feel my heart and body beat.

And the people sleep, sleep unlike we.

But I don’t want to feel the need.

It’s a dead end road, walk away, decisively,

And leave the world to darkness and to me.

I kind of stole that last line. Apologies.

And all the flowers were mine

Sometimes… Sometimes it’s okay to look back with nostalgic eyes. Sometimes it might be good to remember. Melancholy. Every now and then. Just to remind yourself of the fact that there are moments you want to relive…

What is better than a touch of Poe then? I mean, add one letter and you’ve got poem. Says enough I believe. I like his poetry a lot, because it makes you feel the melancholy really well. The sentence ‘and all the flowers were mine’ has been eddying in my head for a few weeks and then I decided to search for the poem. It struck me again with its flow and sadness. To you in blogosphere…

To One In Paradise
– Edgar Allan Poe
Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
“On! on!”- but o’er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!For, alas! alas! me
The light of Life is o’er!
“No more- no more- no more-”
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams-
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.