Once upon a tide ,
there was a rainy day
somewhere in hours
of november .
the lunar shadows ,
ferried the poets reveries
to his abode of immortality...
.......................................
The time of dreams ,
smile at its reflection
in the solar mirror of illusions.
feelings that beg for a gaze
that will forever preserve
a few tender soft relic of memory
beneath the unfatumable mourning
of the heavens ...
The years take on the dress of the seasons
and fancy of destiny ...
Oaths disguised as a fleeting eternity
slumbering in orgasmic marble..
Ecstasy only clothed with regrets ,
dissolved in the cold venom
of a dying passion ...
The angel of the last journey,
turns the page of the great book of dellusions.
Poet ,did you breathe solely
for that spectral inspiration ,
and solo drinking binges,
whose tomb ,never will ever flourish ?
Fragments of a rainy november day ,
swept away at the hour of the lords
by the lunar shadows ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 10th, 2026 11:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments4
We live in an ever-changing world, yet we seem to need the belief that some things are not destined to perish. We create illusions of permanence, dreams that might outlive their creators…
A thorough analysis that effectively summarizes this text !
this poem swept me up and I enjoyed journey
Archeology of a soul .
elegy of time .
anatomy of an illusory immortality ..
beautifully put my friend
Now orgasmic marble sounds like a whole new meaning to a hard on and what of those stones. A mystical read my friend
Are we the authors of our own lives or are we actors in a story whose complet script we will never know ?
I know that script Shakespeare wrote it "All the world's a stage" the problem I was given one that is not too popular and it only ran a week. Poor acting they said.
Applaudite cives !
November gets to me too, Lorenz…I struggle with the shorter days, and I write through some of that myself. This was an uncomfortable read for me, but I’m glad I read it. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Everything belongs to the realm of disappearance and metamorphosis.
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