by Forest Wayne
Last night I gave all my love to a star,
and she thanked me with all the burning lights she
had.
Lullaby
On a rainy day, I wished for nothing but her
under this crescent moon.
with her beautiful
curves curled up underneath the sheets.
Her words were pretty like flowers,
she wrote them intimately into my crestfallen heart.
We can all become better she said,
better than we used to be if we weren't so broken.
Mr. Pirate
She found you shipwrecked, washed up on a shore
and she gave you everything with love, just to see your
wounds heal in time.
But as always you left with all her gold like the pirate
you always were.
Let Her Go
I wrote you into every memory I had
Because I was too afraid to face the thought of you
gone.
In selfishness, I clipped your wings,
leaving you forever bound to me,
and slowly the lovely flowers in your pretty heart
withered and fell,
right then I knew I had to let you go.
She was beautiful, but beauty was the least of her.
You never know where she hid an ocean of tears,
or a pocket full of smiles.
I told her I would build a boat,
and we would sail off into the
Milky way,
just to watch the stars from their homes.
Part 2
A Chapter For Dear Loneliness
"Sometimes a god cries because he feels lonely.
Birds sit on tree branches because they feel lonely.
You sit near the water because you feel lonely."
—Jung Ho-Seung
The void and I
I
There's a path
that leads nowhere.
A place I go,
to sit alone with the silence.
A place where the darkness shines,
and nobody calls.
II
And even when it spoke.
The only words between us
were said softly within
the silence,
after the echoes of emptiness
that will forever be unknown and unheard.
Stories by the fires
"There's no such thing as love," he said "we are all just
sitting by the fire trying to write a new story.
Hopefully a one without a fatal Hamartia.
Some of us may try to reach a hand towards love,
hoping to be rescued.
But I've learned to face my demons alone."
"If that's the story you choose to tell," she said, "then
it isn't worth writing."
The SS Phantom
Dear Sailor,
my fellow weary traveler.
You are the captain of the night,
the restless wander aboard the SS phantom.
but you'll never find a home amongst the sea.
Just like the unsettling waves,
you have no one to anchor to.
And the ale will only taste bitter each night
on your never-ending journey with loneliness,
until there's no one left to remember you.
But do not be sad,
there are no sirens
on your path to the ends of desolation.
For you are truly
and utterly alone.
I would shed a tear
with you my friend,
but these tears are yours.
We are fated to row endlessly together,
on these barren seas.
The boy who built walls
No one thought him
how to build walls,
but when he did
he felt secured,
everything he ever wanted.
To be away, far from the world
was what he thought, he wanted the most.
But not so long he found out
he had built something
so beautiful, so magnificent,
something he could not escape.
The curse of loneliness.
He had on his own shouldered solitude,
and the weight was now becoming too heavy.
With no one to share this burden
he became sad,
he wondered why he never thought to build bridges.
The Best Of Us
Oh, Lucifer who will love you.
Who will hold you when the night falls cold, you self
righteous soul.
Do you not see the wind around.
Why does everyone run from you?
Your heavenly wings glow with such darkness.
And the people will cast stones all around you,
they do not know you bleed scarlet as they do.
But even the best of us holds a bit of darkness that the
light cannot reach.
Where The Red Thorns Grow
Alas, my dear moon,
I will take you to the fields of my heart,
you must promise me
not to shut your eyes.
There are things I must show you.
I need you to see
Where the red thorns grow.
In a grassy field awaiting the snow
where the colors hide
ashame of its glow.
In a night where the day will never come.
Where hearts are ridden in pain bereft of
love to heal
Of all the dames who came to see none could
bear to look.
My heart is laid to rest underneath this
graveyard, a place where an ocean once rose,
and love effortlessly flowed.
Please you must see.
Lady Midnight.
Sometimes I wonder
If the night curses
the day in spite for
leaving her in darkness.
Maybe like the rest of us she knew
she was always
destined to be alone.
And even when the tide changes
everyday,
she's forced to repeat
the cycle without hesitation.
el romántico Solitario
My heart is fickle like a romantic.
I love everything too greatly,
and even when they leave
me
cold,
and shivering
in the night.
I can't help but wonder
if they found a little
warmth in the darkness.
Haunted
The sounds of your falling tears
will remain the
saddest memory
I've ever had the misfortune of carrying.
Although I turned away in silence after words
Unspoken.
The moment still haunts me.
Kindness for ashes
What is thought to be love, when humanity is
desolate.
The grasses are no longer green,
and the earth will fall from its axis.
The mountains will give way.
And all who lived left nothing but sorrows, they loved
as selfishly as they could, but they left her lonely,
laughing through their crooked teeth.
She's the lonely outcast with too many neighbors,
too many of whom, who cared too little for her.
She watched from the shadows and gave to them all
she could.
But daily she is cut down by the roots and made into
ashes.
Her name, vilified by men whom she loved and
sheltered with her branches.
All this for her kindness.
The Color Of Broken
/> Sometimes beauty exist
only in the shadows
of haunted lovers
and memories long forgotten.
And if I should find
life only interesting
at the end of a whiskey bottle,
it is because I'm broken.
PART 3
A Chapter For Other Poems
"Art takes time—
Monet grew his gardens
before he painted them."
—Atticus
Dear Reader
years later,
when we've found love hidden
beneath our lonely hearts.
The end I promise you, will not be so fatally tragic.
Those Wishes We Made.
Wishes are stars that faded before touching the skies.
If only we had prayed a little,
loved a little.
Maybe then,
maybe just then,
those wishes would have soared through.
The tale of the boy who would not move
When love inspires
a fool to jump through hurdles.
He sits in a dream,
waiting on Neverland,
like a boy with a broken bow.
And if someday destiny should ever call,
I hope he won't sit still, waiting for a past love
that is now long gone.
I feel like an empty shell of glowing shadows.
dancing through the night,
trying to make sense of the beauty
before my eyes.
My love,
my dear star,
you stand all alone in the dark
and yet you shine.
Untitled
Somewhere deep down you know
your gods are murderers,
your heroes are scared,
your dreams are an illusion,
your love is ephemeral,
your lies are detrimental.
For who walk through a field of thorn
blinded, without the lights.
We are colorful playthings.
A cheerful expression of a dying universe.
We don't mind the ride before the
darkness.
We just dance.
The starry truth
I'm sorry for the tears,
beautiful things often make me cry.
Ever since I was a boy
I've always thought of beauty as the most compelling
force of nature.
The Starry truth is no one ever hated the night sky,
because beauty exists everywhere, even in the
simplest of things,
the ones we overlook without appreciation.
You don't even need to wander off into the streets of
Paris or the intricate structures of Rome
to know that beneath you, above you and within you
it's there,
if only you just look.
December
It was cold in December.
but the heavens dared to send forth rain,
within blowin' winds of harmattan.
crying between bounties of heavenly rain,
came the darkened clouds roaring heavily across the
northern skies.
Lonely, lonely the heavens cried.
Love and ash
When the night falls into the day,
the world becomes lonely,
And lovers become poets.
Was not true love meant to be destroyed,
in the end when we all become nothing but ash.
Woman Made.
One time I died,
but twice you came.
And three times I had to mourn.
For you have been a reckless thorn that settled too
many times on my gentle grieving heart.
Now I can no longer bleed nor forget you,
for every ounce you've taken has left me too cold to
even feel,
and I shall go on unloving, unfeeling,
as inhumane as any man-made machine.
T'was love that left me too dead to be alive,
and I shall go on unloving, unfeeling for you my dear,
you who made me.
Scarlet Love
I've written words from the blood that
flows from within my own heart,
I made them all into poems,
but still you wouldn't read them.
So for this Valentine,
I may be willing to give you my
whole heart wrapped within a cherry red box.
If you don't mind having me,
bold and in scarlet.
Love in Dysphoria
I thought of everything that never was.
The unspoken thoughts and feelings not yet shared.
I thought about the cold hands of destiny,
how it frequents the weak and the brave.
I thought about the meaning of life and how we are all
inconsequential little speck of dust travelling through
time,
struggling to find meaning in the chaos,
and love in dysphoria.
I wonder why we dance, laugh and sing
when we are moved with joy,
and how we slowly sink
each time we are taken by melancholy.
After all this, I've come to believe
that all life is rare.
And existence however cruel it seems,
should be cherished.
For whatever way we found meaning
un the dust of chaos.
We loved like we
always did,
peacefully and endlessly.
The ancestral song
History tells a tale of Africa.
From sunken ships.
not so long ago
when men made judges of themselves,
to rule over the oppressed.
He witnessed the suffering of my
ancestors as they
followed the ropes of the hangman,
as they were lead to certain death.
And their only company were people of the same
color who rotted before they
found their graves.
But so they sang a lovely song to their gods.
Screaming and wailing,
night and day as they cried,
Oh take me to the land where I once
knew my name.
Where the waters of
Nile flows so abundantly.
And may my fathers before me
send forth death to teach me the
ways of the dead.
For
today I will know what lies at the edge
of tomorrow.
Lagos
I
She's all alone in this city, the streets are busy while
she sits there pretty.
The buses shuttle off back and forth, as the conductor
screams from his teeth all gritty
She counts down a hundred, deep breaths and a sigh
heaved from clarity.
Anxious but unbothered her thoughts run wild in
absurdity.
II
The city where dreams come to die.
This concretes jungle is filled with bones of struggles
and despair.
Fancy cars and funny looking Chinamen travelling far
from shanghai.
Home of countless chubby power-puffed debonair.
Shopping malls and flowers shops with pretty bonsai.
But beware if you wouldn't dare to err.
The story of the writer
The greatest story ever told was
written by a man who never believed in God,
but when he moved his hands
it was as the becoming of gods,
a new sensation,
that mere a mortal
could never feel.
/> But there he sat writing
like he believed in everything.
like he suddenly believed in the old gods,
the winds,
the trees and all of heaven.
He spawn secrets no man ever knew, as words came
flashing through his mind.
For your eyes only
Each night
I lay far away
counting the stars my friend,
they are beautiful
and just like them
you too were far away
to reach.
But for something that never was
you brought comfort to my soul.
And if it were the old days,
I would think of your kind words as written letters
for my lonely, lonely heart.
So now I write to
tell you the things
I never could.
From the long rainy days
when you would
text me "hello" from your
electronic box,
and we would talk about
Gandhi's philosophy,
like him, I chose a path flowered with peace.
Some days the memories of the time we spent in the
old college walls would slip into my mind,
the days we spent with friends,
Some of whom we've parted ways with.
If this should ever reach you,
know that I have never forgotten you,
even for a day.
And with so much gratitude I will think of you as
fondly as I can.
May your world be littered with flowers and someone
who is not afraid to love you till the very end.
Poetry no one will ever read
Orpheus your poems once ate a nymph.
she's love-struck and now her heart yearns for more,
What did you do?.
Orpheus your poems once deluded a God.