The Insurrection

A community for Poetry on Opera.

Summary:
'Ars Poetica' was created for those who would be interested in anything pertaining to poetry and help them meet others around the world who share similar interests. Discussions may be made on poets or their works or even your own creation may be put up so that others may peruse at their leisure and comment or give their opinions.

Visit: Link

Heavy hearted, heads rest on the other's shoulder,
Fiery and ruddy are the eyes, blinded by many a tear.
The fire may burn out soon, but passions will smoulder,
And forever will remain in melting hearts memories so dear.

Reminiscences flood in, seeing anything from the Earth to the skies,
Swelling hearts and brimming tears indicate the Parting of the Ways;
Embittered souls curse unforgiving, unceasing Time that flies.
Will these young hearts ever re-live their memorable days?

Admiring the friend's strength, while his little weaknesses we've borne,
Giving warmth in despair, tickling ribs when tense, together we've grown,
In caring, comforting and compassionate acts, our fraternity we've shown,
Reassuring the heart that despite the Parting, we'd 'never walk alone'.
Though during the Parting of the Ways, the bereft heart grieves,
Strong is our Bond and shall not crumble like withered leaves.

On my back, I lay, heat penetrating through skin
Scorching sun, burning sand and blinding light, which to torture seemed akin.
Motionless, as if in a stupor, spreadeagled across, abandoned and bare,
To rise and walk, enduring the Satanic rage of the Sun, would I dare?

A slave - now, prisoner by War,
Atrocities on me have left many a scar,
Scars that evidently will fade not until death,
But, too stolid and stunned have I become to fume or fret.

It was, then, that I felt passing over me the shadow of a Falcon,
Regal wings spread wide - it had the appearance of a beacon.
I followed it with my eyes and then, on my legs as it flew towards the North,
With an enkindled flame I walked, overshadowing the solar wrath.

Sweat running down sinews, I traversed the sands, bearing binding rope burns with which I was scarred,
Then, realisation dawned that I was only human - with the passage of time, senses seemed to retard.
On the threshold of losing all hope for survival, manifested before me an oasis,
In the Land of no Man, the body of blue seemed like heavenly bliss.

Was it only a Mirage - false like people in life where the virtual seemed so real?
Preparing for the worst and hoping for the best, I advanced upon it with a new-born zeal.

Was this where I was destined to find my road to freedom - only Time would tell.
Would the last sound I hear be that of pleasant music or that of a Knell?

Something I do when caught in the snares of boredom - poetry-writing (if you can call it that). They scarcely make sense and the only good thing about them is that they rhyme. Tell me what you think

Here's a sample:

Walking carelessly, my eyes fell on her on the corner of the street
A look refined, a benign air of pride; man, she looked so sweet!
Expressive visage reflected innocent heart, didn't mind admiration
Time ran swiftly, ceaselessly and I, unaware, stared in fascination.
Footsteps like rustling leaves, she passes by like a gentle breeze,
Pride of a lady, heart of an infant, she's got a child's caprice.
With pride, innocence and gait that could charm the birds off the trees
Felt my passionate heart covetously plead, "Will you be mine, please?"

Verse 2 (continuation):

Gentle, searching looks, snow-fur she had and a sharp claws for nail
Joyous walked to the "Pet Shop" window, pride showing in upright tail
A satisfied customer, I walked out, in the end, with a load flabby
In hand I held my pet, selfish, wild, yet, the cutest little tabby.