A Poem for the Creative, A Message for the Hopeful and a Wish for the Future

The tear emerged shyly, hesitantly cascading her lid before it soared down her soft cheek

It trailed, a journey steep and perilous, before it trembled her lips to which she’d speak:

“I didn’t want you to see me cry.”

Never sure if releasing her pain would result in a sigh or something to deny.

True to his word, there was no judgement from the eyes that returned the stare

Only a finger to remove the saddened droplet, a reflective tear and a promise of care.

 

The vision blurred, heart beat in symphony, as she became entangled in the sight

Shoulders clasped, cosseted by a cotton covering that gripped her tight

Breathing fast, skin drenched in fear’s residue, she realised what she saw.

Of course, it was a dream, a representation of a passion to which she’d buried as a flaw

Never to be seen, never to be explored.

 

We veil so much beneath the skin

Hidden dreams and desires, all locked in a place we perceive as safe from sin.

Should it be so hard to free ourselves from such anguish?

One that penetrates the heart, captures the soul and leaves us yearning for its vanish.

 

Those words showered shreds in her mind, as she arose in the darkness.

Heart no longer beating its quick pace, only thoughts raced competing equal fastness

She wondered, “Is it fair to be wistful of a dream? Maybe that’s all it is, all it ever will be.”

But if a world without a love, an absence of a passion for a journey, was enough

Then can someone share the wisdom of why finding happiness shorn of it is so tough?

 

What we do, what we feel, how we are, they shape how we grow.

If you believe in someone, let it show.

If you care for someone, let them know.

If you have a fear, then let it go.

They say silence is golden, but clouding our kindness only casts a sorrowful shadow

 

Shimmering glass shone back in the moonlight

The girl’s gossamer shape mirrored in the dewy twilight.

Maybe she would finally unmask her heart? For she had nothing to lose.

A pen in hand, letters danced across the paper; her artistic writing her favoured sinew.

For as much as she could not speak the words that skipped through her mind

In the escape of her scripture, peace she did now find.

 

 

 

2 comments

    • Thank you, Jon 🙂 Being a bit of a poem novice, I decided to read that poem last night, and I suppose there is a similarity, especially with this notion:

      “0 speak, and set my doubts at rest!
      What if all this should prove at best
      The empty dream, more light than froth,
      Of a heart simple and untried?”

      If you have any other poems or poets to recommend, then send them my way!

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