To run in the rain,
n to face the adverse winds,
To shout out loud...
Into the green hills.
To be free to touch the ocean,
n feel it in my palm,
To dive into the depths,
And restore calm
To be held in those arms,
With love in those eyes
To watch you sleep,
while the moon arives
while the moon arives
To reveal all at once,
and await your rejoin,
To oppose myself...
n see the other side of the coin.
To be pleased from within..
n spread the cheer,
To touch every heart,
n live without fear...
In solitude for hours
with friends at bay,
forever will i dwell...
Over the hills and far away.
6 comments:
That's beautiful!
to know where i stand
n the road i must take.
to stand on the crossroads
n make the wisest choice
to dream of things
n learn to believe.
to be there for all
who matter to me
to see you smile
that twinkle's reserved for me
to live in a land
magical n free
come n join me
over the hills n far away... ill be!
"To reveal all at once,n await your rejoin,To oppose myself...n see the other side of the coin."
that part really is nice...for me,the highlight of the whole poetry. the whole idea of trying to find out the "greener side" of life, its nice...
Awww.. that was sooo lovely! Thats what most women would Love to do.. thanks i could actually relate to it :)
keep it up sweets!
An a zillion thankz for linkin ma blog.. *hugs hugs*
Miss Melancholy, this is for you.
Hello, miss full of life.
Reading books to tell yourself that you’re more than mellow.
The lights have gone blind of the reading and scrolling through magazines.
Her hair falls on the pages; yellowed by the old age of the bulb.
She might converge on a single idea.
Or redefine the heavy imagery in her head. At this present moment.
Like horses running on empty, muddy fields,
Her futile curse of imagination evolves and revolves.
I spy into her day. I look reasons to pry into her.
Stealing is my quality of theft.
No wonder I write.
Tenderly girl, tenderly.
I am exactly in the same season as you were, or as you are.
Her words greens into my insides. Juggling irritation.
Playing illogical sounds of vibrations and waves.
Gelling into this life is god forbidden and time wasting.
Orgy of confusion and play.
But her pregnancy of words and figure insults my doubts I trouble myself with.
Probably that’s why I build, delete what I build, and create and move.
That’s why I write in cryptic verses of lines and paragraphs.
See, I can fool you too.
She rhymes her lines,
I die in the headless thoughts of modification.
I chime in the chimney of the gore and the beautiful. Line by line.
Rhyme by rhyme, crime listings of mine.
There is this supernova exploding from the center of my chest.
For her, I would write it all, blow it all, like a holocaust.
Bomb it with all I can, merge it with ashes of the night.
Can you feel the heat I generate from the lines I write?
P.S. wrote for u one day...hope u like it....
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