Poetry – I Fell in Love (With a Wandering Guitarist)

I Fell in Love (With a Wandering Guitarist)

I fell in love with a wandering guitarist.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much.

With a wooden, acoustic 6 string carefully resting in his lap,

He strummed chords of soulful melodies and lyrics of memories lapse.

Like a traveling story-teller reciting words of gold,

Chosen sentences and structure of prose,

Produce vibrant images of a vast globe

That plays like clear movies through my world.

Stage lights and bright colors,

A single bench and a lonely mic,

And through his delicate hands

Did he tell the innocent observers of his life’s plight.

Lost love, lonely walks,

Joyful engagements and friendly talks,

Hopefully wishing and consistent company,

Short days and never-ending nights,

Random travels and lonely nights home alone.

A novel of one soul is told.

So, I fell in love with a wandering guitarist that night

And surprisingly, it didn’t take much at all.

Just an hour and a half of gentle guitar playing

And listening to the light, breathy voice of a bright soul.

Poetry – Secrets

Secrets

I wanted to ravish you in unimaginable ways
Just to make myself feel better.
Selfish or spoiled; I’m not so sure.
But I wanted you to be mine.

I cry every night as if I am being tortured.
Longing makes the pained conflict in my chest increase.
Trapped between two situated struggles,
Having nothing to hold onto.

While the life is being sucked out of me,
I wandered back to the desire I held for myself alone.

I wanted to show my affection in physical styles,
But I’m too confused to try.

I wanted to show how much I loved you,
So that you could cry for me when you were alone too.

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I’m on a poetry kick lately. I think I may consider writing song lyrics or something. Maybe I could start a band…

Poetry – Desolation

Here’s some poetry for everyone

Desolation

Perplexed person is very puzzled.

There is a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

My mind is very bewildered and unstable.

Senses are a little overwhelmed.

Sadness likes to take a fine grip on me at the moment.

Reality makes me its bitch.