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Literature Text
More than I’ll ever need
Far more than I can sustain
She’s evaded the iron clasp of my youth
The trove of sweet-nothings
I’ve toiled over in secret
Each moment I delve
That trails on endlessly
Far out of reach
In an ominous refrain
Of how, where and when
I empty the troves
Hastily, bereft of thought
As romance clouds
My mind in its frenzy of promise
The soothing sweetness
Of a caring and generous morrow
Magnified solace
Even dreams cannot retain
More than I’ll ever need
Much more I’ll never know
She spares me
For the refuge of another time
An opportune haven
When growth
Has paved my jagged state of mind
With all I can
With every patient fiber within
I strain and strive
In mending the chasm of time
Far more than I can sustain
She’s evaded the iron clasp of my youth
The trove of sweet-nothings
I’ve toiled over in secret
Each moment I delve
That trails on endlessly
Far out of reach
In an ominous refrain
Of how, where and when
I empty the troves
Hastily, bereft of thought
As romance clouds
My mind in its frenzy of promise
The soothing sweetness
Of a caring and generous morrow
Magnified solace
Even dreams cannot retain
More than I’ll ever need
Much more I’ll never know
She spares me
For the refuge of another time
An opportune haven
When growth
Has paved my jagged state of mind
With all I can
With every patient fiber within
I strain and strive
In mending the chasm of time
Literature
So In-Love With My Jesus
I can't believe how long I've gone,
Without feeling You're here,
I thought I'd die, I thought I'd fall,
But You made Your presence clear,
You tested me,
That I would follow what I know,
And I believe,
That You are here when You don't show,
And I will say,
That You're alive 'cause it's a fact,
And I proclaim,
That You're my Lord; I'm never going back,
I've come too far and walked too long,
And there's no way that I can say,
I never felt You by my side,
You always heard me when I prayed,
I know You're here within myself,
And that You love me more than life,
I want to breathe You into me,
Like rain on a hot mid-summers night,
Literature
The Listening Tree
In the middle of a city park, There grows an old oak tree. Its thick trunk, Twisted and knotted, Like a sleeping elemental. I touch its rough bark, Feeling its life force, Transmuting light, Into organic energy, In a sacred communion. Sitting in its shade, I let my weary soul speak, Of the hopes and fears, Twisting like vines, Around my beating heart. I close my eyes and listen, To the rustling of the leaves, As an acorn falls on my lap. A blessing of strength... And a promise of new life.
Literature
Ligne tire/Line drawn
La ligne est tirée… Le rideau est tiré et le mur érigé… Les lendemains ne pourront être bénéfiques. Un trait à l’encre rouge au tracé horrifique A été gravé par ce martyre infligé. Les hordes barbares ont été mises à l’œuvre Pour infliger la désolation infini. Les frères ne seront plus que des ennemis. En générations, de rancœur seront les heures. Un despote a fait son nid dans le monstrueux Et son peuple l’a suivi en fermant les yeux. Il vise les bébés, les enfants et les femmes. Rien ne leur est épargné du plus infâme. Ils font renaître ces temps barbares de l’hier Où déferlait sur l’Europe l’abominable. Ces jours, l’envahisseur déchaîne cet enfer, Avec plus de brutalité inconcevable. Le nouveau Gengis Khan insensé du Kremlin Suit les traces de son précurseur de Berlin, Semant sur ce pays sa terreur dégoûtante. Déjà, tant de faits exécrables qui nous hantent. Le rideau est tiré et le mur érigé… Les lendemains ne pourront être bénéfiques. Un trait à l’encre rouge au tracé
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This poem was inspired by a girl turning me down. She wasn't too harsh and was even nice enough to give me a false sense of hope.
© 2014 - 2024 Loftydreams101
Comments11
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I enjoy the last stanza the most.