Give me a minute
of time that’s minute
and forgive the cheek where rests a tear
For a hole in my heart did tear
Slowly time will heal the wound
As time is no longer wound
TIME IS AN ETERNITY
Tag: Writing
A Nightmare
Antiquated truths in the moon light
We have faith for griefs presented—
Apathetic praise of graves by night
Loss gave as intended.
Ah! what is now a truth by night
To those whose virtues trap
Astray without them causes fright
Run towards a fated hap?
Those terrible truths—that terrible truth,
Split one from no one whose praising,
They scorned us as an ugly group
We precious villains racing.
Went over that night, fro’ calm and bright,
So steady so near—
Went list there be less cryptic fights
From liar’s dark-jeers?
A Dream
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream—that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?
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Circumspect
Oh, burdened are the excess of humanities woes
from corner to corner,
foolish cries are caught
their expectations inject most fervently
though otherwise argued facts not prudent to the cause
withheld is my discretion,
away from all the world
never again to believe a word from lying lips that preach too much
from now until eternity,
weary are actions of this cautious mind
I am the fool
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TOO CURIOUS
Have I lost myself?
A notable question I’m sure for amelioration is inconceivable
Too curious is a mind that covets without contrition
Perhaps too many desideration’s?
They are more like unshakable ghosts eager to haunt
To save me is to kill me, as fate just contradicts archaic modes
Integrity is in the guise of swift imagination’s making fools for fun
Where am I?
Dissipated behind the curtain, too aware of the eyes of death which is at length
I have lost myself
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Shell de Toni 