Some memories i never write about, means they didn't happen.

The way I read your mind
Is the same as sign language in your poetry?

Poetry is the chiseled marble of language;
It’s a paint-spattered canvas - but the poet uses words instead of paint,
and the canvas is you:

You borrow a phrase, and hanged it like a gibbet,
That meant nothing for us: it was so ribbit ,ribbit
You sat there on the log and watch as the frogs
Jump from Lilly pad to lily pad: in the dusky fog
The frozen frogs’ moves, your words croaked

we decipher your deepest fears,
so why do you filled the pond with the splashing tears?

she waltzed to the sound of
her sadness-oblivious.
Distorted by piano keys, major
melancholy Madness.
Feather tears picked on harps- flowing
as though the rain began to fall.

There is love in
my shadows
Tucked away,
In my dusky soul.
Resplendent
In its legend.
Written in
another
Tongue.
It's there.
Among the Ruins.

Ground-hog Day has arrived once more
To breakdown my dreams scattered on the floor
Same old feelings into poetry I pour
Days when I sink like a stone

Chasing lost dreams till four in the morning
In pictures I keep memories, my souls does the hoarding
I walk in the daylight with my heart still in mourning
Days when I sink like a stone

I live my life to the same old tune
To the sun and rain and the midnight moon
I keep on smiling and repel the gloom
Days when I sink like a stone

Well after midnight my feelings in writing
Putting down words, in life I keep striving
Head above water just barely surviving
Days when I sink like a stone

Dear loved ones move on to another life
To begin again in a different light
Out of my reach and out of sight
My heart now sinks like a stone

Inspired by a Tears for Fears track called Ladybird
13/10/2012 last edit. Written 2007