My 199th post. Nothing special, actually. The first two lines popped out of nowhere when I was taking a shower, hence this result.
As darkness descends,
As the sun slowly sets,
As another night unfolds,
The moon will be,
But a silent spectator -
An endless conversation,
Falls into bottomless silence;
Laughter stops, smiles falter,
And words die,
A peaceful death -
Preserved in history,
Sculpted in time,
That single moment,
Oh, so precious moment,
When your eyes meet mine.
Stolen from Meena's prompting thingy. The words are emboldened.
My heart tips, this side and that,
Very much like the physical balance -
The scale tips, saying you're just too good,
And then you make me think, "Fat chance!"
My heart swings, this way and that,
Very much like a simple pendulum -
One minute, I think you're oh, so charming,
Then you show the manners of pond scum!
My heart theorizes, assumes, proposes,
That you're an easygoing, lovable guy -
And then, you begin dictating, irritating,
And you make me think, your love is a lie!
One moment, I've got you all figured out,
But then, you go and change the rules.
When will my heart stop its confused wandering,
When will I stop feeling like an angel as well as a fool?
Meena wanted me to write a poem on these words, really a long time ago. Now that her work is about to get published, I wanted to congratulate her, and this is all I've got to give her, at the moment. I'm not sure how well the poem goes with the title, but I really wanted to give this poem the title Meena really liked, because, it's all about the girl we all know and love.
I could almost see myself,
Smiling at the cheering faces,
Waving at the milling crowds,
Tossing out a few choice phrases,
Voicing out my thoughts aloud,
Autographing copies of my work,
Being reviewed as one of the best.
I could almost feel myself
Being praised, being exalted,
Reveling in all the special attention;
My works could never be faulted,
And I would always be free of tension!
People love me, they love my work,
They always say it's one of the best.
I dreamed, just a sweet little dream,
Of myself, telling such lovely stories
Spinning such perfect yarns, deep poems;
I dreamed, with a passion burning in me,
Writing away, feeling all well at home
Making people smile with my work,
Trying to make myself one of the best.
Now, writing is more than just a dream,
It's even more than just a little passion;
It's all about watching understanding dawn,
Not just writing what's currently the fashion.
It's not just about spinning the perfect yarn,
But it's all about spreading the light with my work,
Doing not just what I'm good at, but best.
Definitely horny tonight.
Oh dear, but you frighten me so,
I've really got you under my skin,
Oh, you open up my window,
But can I, would I ever let you in?
You're all I've always wanted,
You're my deepest, darkest desire.
You touch me, hold me, undaunted,
Oh, you do set me gloriously on fire.
If I just tightly close my eyes,
Would this feeling of abandon go?
We're totally at it, like fire and ice,
Oh, you open up my window!
If I hold you close, hug you tight,
Would the flames eat us alive?
If I do that again, they just might -
Watch the flames grow and thrive!
Melting, hot, waiting to be put out,
The candles burn with a warm glow,
Oh, honey, without a single doubt
I say, you open up my window!
You run your fingers all over me,
You touch me like a starved guy,
You kiss me, making me go cra-zee,
Can you hear my hot, yearning sigh?
Look here, at my shaking fingers,
My weakening knees, curling toes,
Oh, this is such a wonderful curse,
Oh, you open up all my windows!
P.S. Really bad of me to not have thought about this already - but I really must dedicate this work to dear, darling Ty, who - well, almost - co-wrote it with me. Love you, honey.
