Below is 'Bref double ' poem rules for which are, •4 stanzas: 3 quatrains and 1 couplet •3 rhymes: A and B rhymes appear twice in the first 3 stanzas and once each in the couplet. C rhyme is the final line in each of the quatrains •Entire poem is isosyllabic
info source-google ____________________________________
Stars glowed as honeyed lullabies when everyone except me slept dry branches swayed delicately along my guitar's symphony.
Clouds formed some familiar figures reminding me of lost home's sight unpleasant events were windswept beneath sky in serenity.
Crescent smiled up from the caelum on petrfying dark lilac nights when zephyr blowed the dryest leaves and the clouds poured an elegy.
Shadows stayed, holding me close tight when you were gone, celestials wept.
ps. The title belamour which means beloved does not refer to the one who left, who is referred at the end of this poem but refers to the ones who stayed, which are stars, clouds, moon, shadows and nature.
pps. I am not a pro but just curiously trying different poetic forms. corrections are welcomed :)
Following is 'Ae Freislighe' Poetic form with guidelines: •Quatrain stanzas (4-line stanzas) •7 syllables per line •Lines 1 and 3 rhyme together, but they rhyme as three syllables •Lines 2 and 4 rhyme together as two syllables •The final syllable, word, or line of the entire poem should be the same as the entire poem begins (the poetic term for this is dunadh)
source- google picture credits to rightful owner
()- [Greek astron, star]
When darkness is adequate and the airspace has nothing they shimmer and dominate until day after morning.
Few of them are separate or at times occur in groups but in sky they aggregate even when clouded by troops.
At dawn they break alliance at night they are not afar a short laconic dalliance of astrophile and stars.
Heart is filled with amazement an event not so mundane that feeling is persistent to contemplate them again.
May the day pass blindingly and colours of day vanish stars paint an imagery as constellations lavish.
A group of old memories though themselves scattered a peek back in centuries a dark sky with stars splattered.
Painted in black with a hint of old greys patches of new blues and spark of unconditional glitters. I sway here and there in my flowy white skirt fluttering around like a newly born bird. With a bouquet in hand and a smile bloomed on face dangling thread earings and perfectly tied up hair. A rose so lucky finds its way to the twisted bun while few were used as cologne leaving behind their essence. Dark blue nights trapped amidst head talks counting numbers to sleep and jumping over obstacles in course. Little early to morning quiet late to noon I walk past the crowd through the constant jibber jabber. With a smile sewed on face and few tears sponged off masking broken patches leaving behind whats long gone.
There awaits a hopeful dawn painted in tones of joyous red and orange there are hints of bright vibgyor right after the thunderstorm but shades of gloomy black and tints of comfortable white in it never gets too old of carrying the lost essence.
ps. Random scribble pps. The title means, lack of sight of colours and finding comfort in old black and white shades. Where colours indicate new opportunities and black and white indicates something worn out or old or lost or faded.
Tonight I am tired. So tired that I can't write, can't feel, can't think about you. But what made me so tired? A friend asked me, why can't my poems or letters end up happy even when you're gone.
'Because my innocent self trusted him enough to place my happiness in his hands. I gave it to him as a gift and he gave this heartbreak to me in return and went too far that I can't even trace the traces of my smiles anymore.' I thought.
I answered her with silence. The crimson, murderous, excruciating silence. Because it was all you gave me when you went without saying a goodbye.
I was lucky enough to be the part of your existence. I was lucky enough that you loved me once. I was lucky enough that you smiled because of me sometime. I was lucky enough to paint the canvas of my memories with your face, whose grave is greeted everyday with lavenders in my heart.
No matter how far I run to find answers, silence always succeeds.
Lying half dead on the porch of your memories, I went back to the day when you kissed me for the first time. I was experiencing it all over again for real.
We were climbing the stairs out of the library when you stopped for a while to look at the time. It was 11:11, your favourite. Your eyes shone, brighter than the usual. 'Perfect' you said and came closer, in no time it was your lips against mine.
I am stuck at that moment tonight. I close my eyes and all I see is your optimistic face, with those hazel eyes and wide smile. I put my hand on my ears and I hear you saying my name as if it's the only word left in the world. I feel you, everywhere, near me.
It seems as if I've been loving you since eternity and will do the same till infinity. I can't remember my happy face when you were not the reason behind it. You're the only always I know. Yes, now you're gone but you're happy without me and that's a big reason for me to smile.
If our paths never cross ever again, know that I love you. Know that I kept you in my every prayer. Know that I practised our love as my religion. Know that I was the shore to the sea of your memories in my head.
Know that I've remembered you with my every breath. Know that I am nothing, if not yours. Know that you were the greatest teacher I had because you taught me patience before the pain so that I could bear it.
Know that I died fighting like a warrior for breaths so that I could love you more. Know that I've prayed enough to meet you in another life time and I hope you'll love me then.
Some people are just not meant to be together, no matter how much we wish to be otherwise.
And i thought of not thinking about you tonight. I thought of painting my dreams. I thought of writing endless dark poetry. I thought of stargazing, of roaming with the beloved moon.
But you're all those things to me. I wanted to paint your face when I picked up my brush. I wanted to write about our love when my fingers caressed the quill. It was your face I saw when I looked at the moon. The stars shone like your twinkling eyes.
I ended up seeing you everywhere, even when you weren't here. And I heard you say, "you can never run away from me, for I am your muse, for I am your art, for I am your poetry." And I blacked.
You're nothing if not the subject to my art and poetry. You're immortal.