Night shadows
beautiful and rare, though my lover gone
My world has fallen silent once more, returning to the solitude of my own mind. It is inturrupted only by noises of outside commotion, passersby.
So few have penetrated through me like he, he was within, his tender thoughts enriching my soul. The music of his poems, his words, breathed life into my heart. For a brief time I felt it was safe again to give, as though he wouldn't leave.
So few understand the depth of my emotions. So few share my desire to savor life. He does.
Alone again now, though I prefer it to the presence of someone grasping to connect and failing.
So few have penetrated through me like he, he was within, his tender thoughts enriching my soul. The music of his poems, his words, breathed life into my heart. For a brief time I felt it was safe again to give, as though he wouldn't leave.
So few understand the depth of my emotions. So few share my desire to savor life. He does.
Alone again now, though I prefer it to the presence of someone grasping to connect and failing.
Here is more to enjoy.
And so they entered the pub/café on the run to take cover from the pelting rain that seemed to appear out of nowhere in the thick fog.
The city was enveloped in it. It was all so strange and disquieting, such inquietude. The lamplights were swallowed, only a very feeble light halo remained in the pallor of the night.
It seemed as though the road was covered by small moons, a panorama a bit macabre.
There was only one free table in a corner hidden by a support beam. A table for two.
Someone must have just left as the tablecloth was messy and full of dreams left behind.
So many small, bright moons invading the road outside. Lights enveloped in dreams.
The music was a caress of the senses. A melody, incisive, sweet, romantic, and daring all at once.
They were tormented somewhat, their eyes locked intensely, and now_ without words.
“Why” she asked.
He caressed her, got up, moved his chair, sat down again, looked in her eyes...
“I don’t know why” He said, and he got up and left the Bistro.
The fog still there to embrace the lamplights. Up to that moment there had been a welcome noise, a blending of conversations in the cafe bar. But now strangely for her, all was dissolved.
She did not feel the world around her any longer. Just a few words,and “total destruction”!
A split second, and the fog had taken it “All” away in its silent mantle.
Addio, she mumbled, and she went out the door vanishing in the fog, her tears a faint sparkle.
And so they entered the pub/café on the run to take cover from the pelting rain that seemed to appear out of nowhere in the thick fog.
The city was enveloped in it. It was all so strange and disquieting, such inquietude. The lamplights were swallowed, only a very feeble light halo remained in the pallor of the night.
It seemed as though the road was covered by small moons, a panorama a bit macabre.
There was only one free table in a corner hidden by a support beam. A table for two.
Someone must have just left as the tablecloth was messy and full of dreams left behind.
So many small, bright moons invading the road outside. Lights enveloped in dreams.
The music was a caress of the senses. A melody, incisive, sweet, romantic, and daring all at once.
They were tormented somewhat, their eyes locked intensely, and now_ without words.
“Why” she asked.
He caressed her, got up, moved his chair, sat down again, looked in her eyes...
“I don’t know why” He said, and he got up and left the Bistro.
The fog still there to embrace the lamplights. Up to that moment there had been a welcome noise, a blending of conversations in the cafe bar. But now strangely for her, all was dissolved.
She did not feel the world around her any longer. Just a few words,and “total destruction”!
A split second, and the fog had taken it “All” away in its silent mantle.
Addio, she mumbled, and she went out the door vanishing in the fog, her tears a faint sparkle.
Last edited by Van Canna on Sun Feb 14, 2010 6:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
Van
-
Rick Wilson
restless
Untainted by the limitations of space and time, I feel his touch that calms my fears well after he’s gone. They tell me time is a continuum though breathing in now I realize I’ve breathed him in before, long ago.
The essence of a soul so timelessly familiar it becomes difficult to distinguish the separation between his words and my thoughts. My desires and his dreams.
Still, I remain restless, moving, turning to glance at the past while knowing only the future holds promise for change. And how will I change now? Is it just I changing or are we two bending and yielding?
The essence of a soul so timelessly familiar it becomes difficult to distinguish the separation between his words and my thoughts. My desires and his dreams.
Still, I remain restless, moving, turning to glance at the past while knowing only the future holds promise for change. And how will I change now? Is it just I changing or are we two bending and yielding?
night shadows burning
Last edited by Van Canna on Sun Feb 14, 2010 6:02 am, edited 1 time in total.
Van
From the XVan Files
Leo,
I believe this is the poem to which you referred...
I believe this is the poem to which you referred...
Thank you so much
Yes, I searched much for it
Thank you so much!
Thank you so much!
To read that againAnd so, it is four AM and I get up.
I go into the kitchen in search of a bit of peace, hoping to taste the light of a new morning.
It is a feeble light that changes according to my moods, the light that filters through the window and Seems to slam on the kitchen floor.
But here, there is only silence, a silence of tomb that terrifies me.
And the internal dialogue begins by knocking at the door of my regrets. A mind grumbling that never stops between doubt and reflections upon my life.
I want so much to cry. My nonna, told me once that once becoming a woman I wouldn’t cry as much, and I hold back the tears to make her proud of me.
A few days ago I met a woman, Eleanor, she is desperate because she lost her man and she cannot make out a reason for it and she seems to be taking it very hard. She drags on day after day trying to forget, but she cannot. So many lives touched by the inclement hand of destiny.
A friend at work, Paul, lost his wife to a brain tumor three years ago, and now he suffers in silence. At times there is no one to talk to and the sorrow becomes desperation, a mourning that will never be dealt with.
I have bolted from people’s suffering so many times, it scares me, it submerges me, and I have no more roots. There is no space left for sorrow.
I have known sex without love. It is squalid, degrading and it leaves such emptiness, a price to pay for the inability of suffering, a price that fear extols.
I lost my parents early; I lost so much, all the affection all at once. There hasn’t been much afterwards, only constant, incoherent, apathetic, irrational emptiness.
Léo
