Tag Archives: literature

It Feels Like Rain (Poem)

It’s dark, it’s cold, it feels like rain.

I feel the mist, the death approaching…

Nevertheless the coffin brakes

And flies from underground are floating.

I’m dead.. you’re dead.

The souls are rotting.

Your chances minimizing faith,

Into abyssal bliss are dropping.

I’m dark. I’m human. I’m alive.

I was good once… now I am evil.

Awake, eternity I strive,

Embracing obscurity’s receival.

I say goodbye to earthly things…

I need my darkest sleep of reason.

Behold the quantum orb of kings,

Their history evolved in treason.

No thunder smiles, no tender gestures,

Nor day, nor night, nor noon, nor dawn…

They grow apart apocalyptic textures

For Rome and ruined Pantheon…

And blissfully away I run,

Embracing moments that I gain.

Life quadrupling under no Sun…

It’s dark, it’s cold, it feels like rain.

Advertisements

Congruence [Poem]

Beneath the night’s sky… / The lights just fell asleep.

The city is so silent / The silence is so deep..

The fog of winter sings / A sinister embrace,

Just shadows of the membrane / Dark figures without face.

A colorblind newborn / With implants of vague hope,

With holographic dreams / And circuits, plastic, rope…

An ever-beating heart / A never-ending night.

A call for endless fight / Believing what is right..

Time unexpectedly stops… / This web is filled with fright.

78cbcc856b7397b884190eb3a06dde00

Argue [horror poem]

This darkened rain that pours so soft,

This day of war and cruelty…

One gallon – blood is coughed

And death sings continuity.

A lovely, white-pale corpse

Of former lover – mine,

Just sits and rots, decaying works;

One gallon – red mulled wine.

 

I take a sip, I lose my mind,

My temper; devils dwell.

Inside my brain, my darkness’ faith –

My home, sweet home – hell.

A house of bones, the card of death,

A room filled with disaster;

I friended vipers and neglect,

Becoming murder-master.

 

And now at the beggining

Of my eternal end –

Damnation is the key.

Our love was sick,

You lie down dead

And I am lost – but free.

 

Ascension [poem]

Stir of echos, darkened souls;

I see perfection inside your flaws.

Your gentle smile, your golden hair,

A whisper telling me beware

Within my nightmares – sweetest dreams;

I hide from truth, I drink blood streams.

I learn to scream, I learn to fail.

A whisper tells me sweet … beware.

Come Back…

The clouds were somehow dancing relentlessly above my head. There were also a few spots where a crystal blue color was smiling hope. It was quiet. Too quiet. Too quiet for the shouting thoughts from my head.

I was alone. Too alone for an enormous world filled with so much life. And yet death awaits for me. Inevitable end with little care for my future.

On this island, my island, the present mingled with the past and with the de-ja vu of a shattered future.

My only treasures were the memories, the cracked reminders of my former self, the images of people I met, people I knew, I loved…

The picture of her…

Standing in the rain wearing a black dress and carrying around a rose-red umbrella. The city was all gray, lost in some sort of sad fog. Big raindrops were hitting the ground like meteorites on the surface of a barren planet. A universe without emotions…

And she was standing there waiting. But not for long. In a few seconds her image vanished. And I found myself once again stranded on a rocky island, too alone, too sick, too old and too late for a happy ending.

As I closed my eyes I whispered “Come back…”.

But she never returned…

[Inspired by the story of Dear Esther, which I replayed last night]

In-Sanity

The truth speaks in convulsions

Twisted, dark precipitations

Tar pours down from clouds of autumn

Pressing shadows down to bottom…

Do we see the monsters’ clan?

Do we know their wicked plan?

I guess not, we’re simple strangers…

We embrace the mortal dangers.

Haiku: Simple And Expressive

Using a juxtaposition of two ideas along with some sort of cutting word between these can help defining a short form of Japanese poetry called haiku.

Born from the desire of expressing the beauty of simple concepts and life notions – this form of writing managed to use the artist’s potential in order to create a symetrical artistic image.

The structure of haiku consists of 17 syllables [also called on or morae] having a 5-7-5 usage pattern. This helps establishing a certain attractive aspect of stating the visual element.

One wide-known haiku is signed by Basho – sounding like this: Furuike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto [translated as Old pond… / a frog leaps in / water’s sound]. Just listen to these words and you’re going to feel the abstract nature of their sensibility.

I think that this form of poetry is subjected to a raw intelligence since it takes a lot of attention and eficiency to find the right words for explaining a phenomenon. As an exercize you can think about composing a few haikus describing your personal feelings towards different domains. Haiku expresses actions and involved subjects and of course a unique link between them.

Some say that writing isn’t art…but I believe differently. Since poetry can affect your emotions – it is a spiritual bonus – therefore an art-related activity.