I see your image / Drawn directly into my mind, / Soft strokes of the gradations / Of your personality, / The highlights and even the darker …
The first of a cycle, of unrequited love.
The depth of love / The success of love is simplicity to measure
-Does he? / -No. / -Shit! I do!
Useless dialogue
Yes, I intended the word to be spelled that way, for it is the one I meant to use. If you don’t know what I mean by that, it’s all to the good, I suspect. This was written on 1/26/2008 and in regards to the usual suspect.
I used to be inspired ….
Truthfully? It was written precisely because I felt rather dead, that day. There are persons who like it, though, so …
I can still hear your laughter / and the crying that came after / Echoing down the halls of time
Author’s Comments / Just something I was half awoke and started composing in my mind. I forgot some of it, added other bits in, etc. as I hadn’t finished it before I got up .. didn’t want to lose it. I had one I was building in my mind before, when I was too tired to get up and do anything about it, something about my daughter but it had to do with dipping ink pens and it was really really .. profound .. the sort of poetry that One wishes one could write but seldom does, I think. And in case of point, One didn’t, so .. So this time I woke up and got on the computer and gave it my best shot lol
Drinking in images which roll out my eyes / Wishing they wouldn’t stain my face
Old commentary, from when I was still on Deviant Art, follows: “Actually, this poem was completely spur of the moment and was inspired by me trying to think of something to put in the little “listening to ” and such categories when posting a journal entry. Well, and obviously inspired, in part, by my being gonzo over clown boy! grrr “ Yes, in some respects, I still have it bad for clown boy, the tattooed wonder that he is, but I think I have gone and developed a crush on someone different, in his absence. I am a loyalist, but don’t deal well with tedium grin
tattoos, piercings, hair dye .. / all the things that bring brightness / and beguilement to your plumage
Written a wee while ago for the very same, previously mentioned, tattooed wonder. And yes, he is a wonder. He keeps me wondering, all the time. lol
That I am no longer sure of such love / As grips me in it’s greedy grasping fear
I think, in a way, poetry is like masturbation It is usually ugly and only of worth to the person doing it .. but that’s not what I meant. It’s a form of release when you can’t get what you want or feel you need .. or, in happier moments, a way of hastening a reaching towards another … Not that I advocate masturbation .. but, then, I’m not really into poetry, unless the person is very very good or I care for them a lot. So, go and equivocate that, shall you?
Fluttering veil fell; tears slipped silently
It explains why they grow weaker as we age, especially without caring for them well / His soul was brown and veiled, seemingly deep, but l…
Your expressions change frequently – I know them all. Your smiles and frowns, your laughs and all your tears. I know how you feel.
I wrote this a few months ago. I look back on it and it does sound a little too sad and desperate. I was going through a moment. I was full of emotion and angst and I had to get it out…so I wrote. :D I hope you guys love it. Love can be a wonderful thing. It’s tragic, sad, depressing and physically painful but it can also bring out the best in you, can make you smile, make you happier than you can ever be and that is a beautiful thing. May all of you find love! / _________ © This is copyrighted and owned by the artist Anastasia G. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
i cannot bend to your will / therefore i will shatter / from the labor of opposing it
poem / spring 2005
Someone is living the life that I had dreamt to be That someone so forlorn to say / Is not me
Living in the now…..easier said then done.
and all of your seekers / have got lost on the way…
A poem of unrequited love, and the realization that one is being manipulated.
Dripping feelings from out of her breast best and lightest dress. She sends him a photograph of her hair
A Confounded Letter
Unrequited love is love supreme / Love that is always just out of reach / He knows he is beautiful but / is not sure yet what to do with tha…
Unrequited Verses Skin Debate featured in CORE 20-7-09
She visited -fleeting photograph / Radiant smile
The poet finds his muse but only in a photograph.
‘A searing, stretching, sadness / is pushing my insides, out: / It’s like I have no centre. / I gave that role to you / these past few months…
The poetic equivalent of ‘He’s just not that into you’, girls ;)
As the hurt comes tumbling down, I reside around for more. / So many want to enter this obelisk ….pedestal…. / bygone… door..and I wo…
I read of so many hearts that experience the words of this poem / In my every day work as a spiritual reader. I meet many Alices ..although this piece is not written from personal experience..I listen, hear and people watch and I feel their pain of unrequited love… time and time again….if only they had the courage to do just this… stand up be counted have self value and turn the tables on the ones who hurt and ignore…when they themselves are so special, but often cannot see for their own beauty evades the true picture…you know who you are…?.
This deep grown longing / That lingers in the shadows / Whispering the need / To lie with you at nightfall / To wake with you tomorrow Sha…
I write this for myself and for the love I may never know and for all those who have lived or are living through long distance or with unrequited love. xx
She was swallowed up and trapped in her lion hair and no amount of coaxing would get her to leave her harem of waves.
he told me to get out of his dreams
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