So sad ~ So sad, your pretty face; tears behind the smile. So tired, the days drag on; scarcely seems worthwhile. So long, It’s been like this; can’t go another mile. © Copyright 2008 – 2012 Aarron Laidig Melancholia in the realm of odium
Archive for the ‘Poetry Of My Making’ Category
So sad ~ Leave a comment
Elderberry wine ~ Leave a comment
Elderberry wine ~ To drink the nectar of paradise, And find myself so transformed Beneath a starlit moonless sky; to mortal Life I said good-bye, Finding myself deformed. A robust ambrosia I did intake; Causing rapid ascension, leaving my body below depleted: Knowing somehow I have been cheated, The cause beyond my comprehension. The gods laugh […]
scent ~ or crush # 5 ~ Leave a comment
scent ~ or crush # 5 ~ Ah, she left a bit of clothes soft, warm, her scent, longing grows I hold them to my cheek and sigh, wondering if she knows. Her scent, gives me vision to see only her love can set me free I hold them to my cheek and die Knowing we can never […]
Oh God ~ Leave a comment
Oh God ~ Oh God, w .What is the answer to my troubles? h .How can I have done this to myself? y .Yearning to undo the things I have done, h .Having only begun to recognise my sins, a .another chance I beg of you. v .Valiant and noble I would be, e .Even unto […]
Mind ~ Leave a comment
Mind ~ This headache wont go away, my stomach is so sour. The clock ticks on and on; Louder by the hour. Flowers blooming in my yard, smell like summers death. Their time is done and so is mine; I’m feeling out of breath. Each day gets longer, My mind now so tired. Thoughts come sluggishly; […]
Go on ~ (or) For you? ~ Leave a comment
Go on ~ How can I go on without you, when everything I have ever done, everything I have ever thought, everything I have ever wanted, every thing I planned to do, was for you? How can I forget you, when all my dreams, all my hopes, all my faith, all my love, was for you? […]
Vexation ~ Leave a comment
Vexation ~ Isolated from humankind, free of bothersome demands I find union with creation. Serenity is salvation. A fictitious audience, ghosts often from my past, critique work as it progresses. Phantoms cheering my successes. This solitary time is pretense. No way to elude pestering demands. Called away from artistic rapture, burdens triumphant in my recapture. […]
