conceit

An Open Ended

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Open Ended

 

 

The quaint potteries

of thine flowers flowering

there is beauty in—








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The Train

Folder: 
First Poems

[Clackety Clack, clackety clack!]

Hurry up, my dear friend,

Train of life still has an end.

Hurry up, my lovely fellow,

Justice comes above or below.

 

Oh, honey dear, wouldn’t it be great,

To enjoy a cup of tea by the fire on a date?

To forget about the leaves

And the silver silky wigs?

 

Hmm… Didn’t you say that time is a gift?

So let’s stop contemplating and swift

Jump into dusty rusty air

With no prejudices, no care!

 

Didn’t you point out that time is a river?

Then, aren’t we a floating schooner?

So pull it on the side,

Against the will of the tide.

 

I have an idea for our gray years:

Flip the hourglass, my dear!

Yes, we’re doing fine, fragile doves

One for each of our loves.

Leaves depart their mother tree

And join a jolly dancing spree,

But tempests have no pity,

They rejoice in your infirmity.

 

Yellow, orange, red and even green

Whisper farewell and disappear from the scene.

Queen… of Winter settles her majestic palace,

So does she looms into my hair,.. and my essence…

 

Oh, you darling, train of this thread,

Can’t you be for once delayed?

Can’t you drop me by that place

To rewind my watch of space?

 

Spring has come,

But not for me…

Look, it’s final floor,

 

Sweetheart,… Close the door…

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my first peice of art :)

Enjoy.