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THESE DAYS OF MINE
Another winter gone,
And spring blooms,
And I am with memories.
Flowers in gardens,
Lovers glad,
My park no longer exists.
I am repeating,
My feelings,
Fear they may become cliches.
Hussain* is amazed,
Says I am,
A mass of contradictions.
I look at Daphne*,
Her pictures:
They still smile innocently.
Evening and nights,
Laugh at me,
Make fun of my loneliness.
Nothing important,
From Pluto*,
Have I come say soothsayers.
No one has gone there,
Only Mars*,
Is somewhat within reach now.
How come I travelled,
All the way,
And landed on this strange Earth?
I am different,
I know this,
The past revealed it to me.
But I try to blend,
With people,
Yet most of my efforts fail.
When Daphne was there,
I managed,
Her love always gave me strength.
Even now she does try,
Smiles at me,
From another world still unfound.
I am all alone,
Deep inside,
Though God says He's everywhere!
I long to be loved,
But silence,
Mocks me as the clock ticks by!
from your thoughts here
I sensed the stillness speak
a near diatribe of distraction
babbling from a typing form
of tongue in cheek
and then a listless heart appeared
making everything so confusingly weak
my eyes were listening in
as your twisting words
you began to tweak
am eclectic comfort of sorts
for yourself perhaps
but a painful bloodletting of the very
soul
to this fellow poet
your scars were a rash
as each line though skillfully streamed
at me shrieked
in crude unapologetic contrast
that fell into the eyes of dust
and mingled with a garish sort of retreat
the heart has to be a wrangler
roping in the strays
while fighting with time to preserve
the precious priced meat.............
I know this is barely 'Skimming The Surface'
but when I'm effected I don't retreat
you know who!.........so why type it?