Tag: poem

Coming Back to Life

Posted on by A Hopeless Anachronism in Stories

If only I were what they say as careful,
If only it was my heart that would rule,
If only there would have been no brain,
If only you were the one I wanted to gain,
If only I could somehow change my way,
Would it be easier to accept, you say?

If only I would make less fun of you,
If only I could make my eyes cry too,
If only I were a bit more trustworthy,
If only there was no sense of jeopardy,
If only sometimes I could see through,
Would I be much more wanted for you?

If only some part of me could shout out,
If only I could know what this’ all about,
If only I were some little bit more caring,
If only I would follow the steps of sharing,
If only I could see what you want to see,
Would my life have come back to me?

Image by Gerd Altmann

Country Roads

Posted on by A Hopeless Anachronism in Stories

I look back at the days
Of greens and greys,
When we had our ways
Through life, that is a maze.

And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.

I laugh and I smile
By the window and the aisle,
Nights were wet for a while,
Words on top of another pile.

And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.

The colours of the beady eyes
Drew new paintings over the skies,
Some joke or two, some advice,
All of them were fun in disguise,
Always up for a surprise
Knowing the unpleasant may arise,
Never cared for petty sighs,
The thrill was the only prize.

I see faces glowing yellow
With each stroke of the willow,
I hear the empty roads bellow,
With my head on a pillow.

And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.

Image by Real Men Shoot RAW

The Illusionist

Posted on by A Hopeless Anachronism in Stories

I have watched you sleep
With your eyes wide open,
As I could see in them deep
A dream long forgotten.

I have seen you cry hard
From the corner of your lips,
When the waves took apart
The secret of unsailed ships.

I have heard your gasps
Which came along each nod,
Unable to dodge the rasps
They bore with the obvious flawed.

I have felt your cold hands
Under the summer leaves,
They spoke of distant lands
Where not a single soul grieves.

I have tried peeping into you
To find the mystery in your shrine,
But it was not to be, I knew,
The day you looked in mine.

Image by Stefan Keller

The Last Chapter

Posted on by A Hopeless Anachronism in Stories

Do you remember the faces?
As the stream of tears races
On your heart leaving a stain
And you keep up with the pain
But fail to move along the flow,
Since the eyes cease to glow.

Do you remember how it felt?
Transcending over time you dealt
With all the faces who greeted,
Daily shower of wishes cheated
On your blindfold that mystified
The sense of belief oh so tied.

Do you remember the sounds?
The division bell calling rounds
For you to pass a verdict definite
On the faces masked over deceit
With colours of trust smeared on
That now clouds the future dawn.

Do you remember all the mistakes?
Not realizing how much it takes
To put efforts to make things right,
As others kept on with the fight
You watched but never learned
Alas, against your own you turned.

Do you remember that time?
Now it all make sense and rhyme
Along the words you danced to,
Surpassing all faith your soul too
Will lose, translating what has pearled
That was when you ruled the world.

Image by Arek Socha

Dreaming Real

Posted on by A Hopeless Anachronism in Stories

Falling through the dark and distant dream,
Failed grasps aimed for branches supreme,
Thoughts crossed over as the reach recedes-
Landing on the moon may need newer creeds,
Waving above were the leaves passing by
And twinkles smirked while blinking an eye.

All this while the ground grinned below
To greet another fall on its hard pillow,
And high hopes kept sailing higher,
“Oh no” cried the moon in despair.

Falling through the dark and distant dream,
Failed grasps aimed for branches supreme,
Clouds crossed over as the black globe spins,
Stealing the moon as if hiding its sins,
Some leaves fell down some towards the sky,
Though none reach out like wings to fly.

All this while the ground grinned below
To greet another fall on its hard pillow,
And high hopes kept sailing higher,
“Oh no” cried the moon in despair.

And the fall gave away all nearby dreams,
Laying on the back drowned in the screams.
All nearby dreams
Drowned in the screams,
All nearby dreams
Drowned in the screams,
All nearby dreams
Drowned in the screams,
All nearby dreams
Drowned in the screams,
And the fall gave away all nearby dreams,
Laying on the back drowned in the screams.

And high hopes kept sailing higher,
“Oh no” cried the moon in despair.

Image by 52 Hertz