neither is it hello
or is it?
.
everyone's got their reasons
even those that say they don't
everyone's got their seasons
whether they live it or won't
our ears are designed to hear
and lips were made to kiss
the batting of your lashes
turns stony hearts to bliss
for a time and half a time
this pen will cease to scribble
until reasons find their clime
then again, resume their ripple
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 28th, 2026 05:05
- Comment from author about the poem: ...from a long, long time ago now. Not nearly the best but says something that needed to be said at the time.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: throwback.
Offline)
Comments6
Reading the author's note I am reassured that present writing will continue and that is a relief. The poem itself is a soft romantic threat of pause and that draws a breath of trepidation and concern. So tender is the tone of this piece it seems to settle like slumber awaiting and awakening. A lovely write Cryptic.
And as such is/was a very useful metaphor as well. Thank you dear Soren 🙏🏻🕊️
You are most welcome my friend
Good seats at the Opera House? your picture plus poem bought back a memory...
Awesome! Most excellent 🙏🏻🕊️
Lovely! If I may ask what caused your "pen to cease", " resume"?
A compelling compunction 😊🙏🏻🕊️
Nicely done.
Thank you, dear Friendship🙏🏻🕊️
I am relieved
🙏🏻🕊️
Reading this felt like those stretches where words just don’t come…not because they’re gone, but because they’re waiting. I’ve been there, and the way you frame that pause as part of the rhythm rather than a failure feels honest. And hearing your voice on SoundCloud…yeah, that sealed it for me. Followed you on there, my friend. Powerful write. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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