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  • tonyfresh 1d

    A Call Unto The Puerile

    When their skin hasn't touched the embers
    They shall be sharp
    And their tongue, spiteful
    They shall be first to judge
    And last to empathy
    Their look shall be full of contempt
    And their gaze shall be up high
    Above the burnt ones
    Of whom they shall speak with scorn
    And they shall boast of their witty minds
    And ecstasy all while long.

    At last, the tongue of fire shall come
    To French-kiss them
    Then, they shall stop their romance with arrogance
    And aimlessly they shall stroll
    with their shoulder pads in their mouth.
    With their gaze reclined back to the victims of their folly,
    They shall remember a saying of one of them:
    "We call an adult's shoe too big, and his cap too wide,
    until we have become Adults too."

    One at a time, they shall retrace their steps
    And for the Strong, they become Gold.
    For the flimsy-hearted, they move from furnace
    Into abyss.

    A call unto the Puerile,
    That life is a furnace.
    One becomes nothing without journeying
    Through it.
    And a thousand burns one can shield
    With the Voices of the Experienced.
    Their voices which are deep-rooted,
    Which can never become noise.
    Voices which wake one up at dawn
    And stroke one to sleep at night.

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 7w

    There is life
    There is love
    There is common sense
    There is luck
    There is imbalance
    There is imperfection

    There is poetry to weave them all

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 7w

    I grew up as a saint
    All the way, I prevent any taint

    I suffered for good like a slave
    Now I regret if I shouldn't have been brave

    Maybe I could have carried lesser weight
    Of these good hurty memories

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 8w

    76

    Remember.

    As humans, the problem isn't that this harmful emotions
    And vicious tendencies come.

    The problem is we don't fight them.

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 9w

    Tanka

    In the ambience and
    Serenity of my heart
    Thou promises made
    Haunt me in my rest, my dreams
    In my lovers' soothing thighs

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 11w

    Diminishing verse

    I have made mistakes
    Yet I have no regrets. But I sulk for the stakes
    I could have made. I was scared of what life takes

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 11w

    Love is dead

    We ran down the stream
    To recount our dreams
    We recited them like nursery poems
    Our eyes gleamed
    The cloud was moist with our tears
    The sun shone ready to dry them
    We pledged our promises
    Aloud like anthems
    We flapped our wings
    In unison with the birds
    We asked the river for its blessings
    And the tree stood witness
    Our lips danced
    To the rhythm in our heart
    We thrust and moaned
    There on the sands
    We exchanged breathes

    The tree is dead
    The stream is dry
    The dream is empty
    The birds are no where to be found

    The sun has set
    The rain of our shame has fallen.

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 12w

    Ode to Gloom

    I write neither to whine
    Nor mumble.
    I write neither to love.

    I write to deify gloom
    And the god of it's whip.

    I write for its lashes.
    Although, tough,
    I feel the aftermath tingles
    From its blisters.

    I write to the brain cracker.
    for how would I weave these things.
    I could never have been an art.

    I write to the eye opener.
    For my sight is as clear as the summer clouds.

    I write to the ear opener
    For how would I hear the hearts of dying ones
    Or decipher the sound of their silent calls.

    I write to the teacher
    For how could I be prodigy of insights
    How could I have grown a grey tongue
    In this little mouth.

    How could I have had conversations
    Heart to heart with my emotions
    Or understand the voices of my soul.

    Although I'm spent from his drill
    And was broken by his crush
    Although his teachings are heavy
    And whip severe.

    I grow tougher than steel
    And humbled as the sands of the desert.
    I learnt the value of ecstasy.

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 12w

    There's a thin line between love and grief

    I have traveled round
    The world of love.
    I wish it is flat
    that I may trample on the
    Hills and steeps of hurt
    And fly high like the Angels of light.
    But the world of love is round;
    it revolves round grief and love.

    Dear One!
    I fear the day of eclipse
    When grief might overshadow our love
    And we might submit to the limits of
    Of our pains.

    Oh Dear One!
    I fear not my love to strew
    But the days of gloom
    I fear that grief has a spare key to the rooms
    of my soul.
    I fear the days I might spar with the demons.
    I fear of going berserker.
    I fear that you might be hemophobic.

    There is a thin line between love and grief.
    I still grieve over those I love.
    I wish we are myopic to our faults
    Rather our eyeballs are as long as lenses

    There is a thin line between love and grief.
    One leads us to the other.
    Either grief to love or love to grief.
    Oh Dear One! I wish we could erase this line.
    And stay in the diameter of love forever.

    ©tonyfresh

  • tonyfresh 12w

    76

    Remember.

    Glory can be heavy.
    Success can smother.

    Build your capacity
    to shelter success.

    ©tonyfresh