romanticism
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The fear of the pitch black
Which, like a demon, frightens most
Mesmerizes me like an owl
Who perches from the tree
With glowing eyes of hope
The undescribable,
Sky that blooms of lavender
There once was down by misty waves
A grot in which she lay
The princess in her southern grave
Where waves doth gently play
Tell me
That life is good
Sing to me
Songs from childhood
Wake me up at the sunrise
Tell me the world has become a little wise
Tell me
The war is over
Part I:
Once upon a time not so very long ago
Romantics aspired for high class views
While maintaining minds that were opposed to prose.
In all their writings they embellished upon
Light warms you in winter,
And in summer it makes you say no more.
It snares you by its polish.
Scarcely sometimes welcoming,
But mostly sham and dull.
I asked it, "What so special?
You annihilate me,
And what else I would like to say.
They say, "I ain't behold
Anyone, other than you".
As they don't know, that
I see my reflection in you,
I see myself in you.
there’s nothing like a summer evening
hair loose and feet bare
dumb grins and happy stares
the sun hits the air just so
and the world glows
It is too easy to make affliction handsomeWhen it's lined with rhyme Traced by thin fingersThe numb glow of a dawn window.White drapes on skin and glassDark eyes torn with pain madeBeautiful
The moon fused in harmony only once every four years.
Every other day it would appear to be doing so in dead set,
but they knew better, behind perfection were only tears.
Dear howling winds,
you whistle through tiny cracks
of our small, whithered home
songs of your journey
from further out miles.
Take me with you
as you pass by.
Pick up my soul,
He touched her with a sensitive soul
and carried her feelings with nothing but
an unshakable pledge
He gazed at her for she was a
Goddess
and with her, moments held greatness
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In third grade,
They handed me a poetry book
And I found it terribly boring.
I was a child of prose, reading stories of adventures
And faraway lands.
In the direction of which my heart relies, I find my own warmths life support
To embrace the endless swirling sky, my towers never err and fall short
I cherish the silence, hearing naught but the breeze
As golden sunlight filters down through the autumn leaves.
Peace fills my heart as I take in the comfort
What if on a night we have a dream
Not the ones of make believe
We capture nothing on this night
Our darkness submerged in our night
What if we could not make a sound
We find it true we met the ground
Stumbling & reckless,
Shackled by mad musings of destruction.
Beware of the one whose cries
Whisper fallacy.
Lookest in mine eyes and tell me it isn't she, but the one that stands before you, your
most beloved, me.
O blindest me o forgotten one, thy eternal Re.
O achest me, take pity.
Mine eyes have been taken by thee.
I can romanticize anything
Books, jobs, boys
Toys!
This list is endless.
I am a clear romantic at heart
I can spin a tale and have that tale
Be invigorating, special, fun, exciting
Oh beautiful Mother,
with limbs branched outward,
rustling the voice
of your brother the wind.
There is a notion that
Crying is Romantic at night
Alone into the bed sheets
But the truth is
It can hit at dawn
Or in the afternoon
In the shower
In a crowded room
In a big room
The evanescent of life,that glows,
The dusk to dawn eyes;
Though feels through flesh not awake but still sees,
the cool blue-green grass under it.
I want to be one with the world
I want to feel what it's like to be strong
I want to be bright like the sun
I want to see that light
She is the light
In a world inhabited by Benedict Arnold’s and despair,
She stands out from everyone
For she is the light
Too reliant is humankind upon the salary.
No longer can be seen the sincere modesty that once,
prevailed.
To lead a peaceful life without worries has long been forgotten.
Toil on day after day to secure.
