WHAT WAS (POETRY)

Was a love I couldn’t control

Washed up tears, aggressively stole

Running through trees

Rose bushes and oceans abound

Lost in time that had such a beautiful sound

Leave me to dream

Denial hates to be  found

Playing between the sheets, blankets, pillows and all

Hearing the voices but never once answering to its call

Please wake me from this forbidden craft

That hides itself fully

Behind religious mask

The lust and betrayal

Well, it’s really hard to tame

And it could never be the same

Because sensations knows my name

From past games

I know there are many ways to avoid

Such gut wrenching pain

Love is really powerful

And can drive the strongest king insane

Pleasurable pain

Strong enough to awaken the most forbidden sin

Love will stir your heart up

Take it back

Strengthen it

Only to begin the madness again

Put me back together

Because I’ve fallen apart

Razors

Daggers

And swords

Aiming straight for my heart

Protect me from this weapon

I choose to call love

And never trust the past

Because

It

Will

Always

Be

 

What was

 

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21 comments

  1. Thought you might like to read the whole thing…. (mine)

    POETRY

    What tribe will have you dance its folk lore
    Anyhow you wish and still call you right
    Like poetry would do with words for sure,
    Misspelling and not punctuating left and right?

    You married the spouse and planted the trees,
    Amassed the wealth and ensured the health,
    Won over the law and gained with the fees;
    Even books don’t give the freedom of a poet.

    1. WELL, DEAR AND I DO SAY THIS WITH ALL DUE RESPECT I AM NOT A GREAT SPELLER OR AN INTILLECT. I AM HOWEVER A POET, OMG HAVE YOU READ MARK TWAINS BOOK? I DID IN COLLEGE, OH YEA, I’M IN COLLEGE AND STILL CAN NOT SPELL,,,LOL, ANYWAY, HIS BOOK WAS FILLED WITH ERRORS AND HE WAS PUBLISHED. WOW, IT WAS SAD REALLY BUT THE PEOPLE LOVED HIM. WAYYYY, BACK THEN (:

  2. Reblogged this on David Emeron: Reflections upon Reflections and commented:
    I like this poem very much.

    As for the prompt/picture, here are my two cents worth, so to speak:

    When it involves poetry, or in fact any act of creation, there is no such thing as living in the past. I know this very well, as I have witnessed the search for novelty in art result ultimately in mere unintelligibility; the unconscious backlash from which results not so much in living in the past, but to some artists, choosing to master, or even refine older forms, and some to chose newer forms or invent such forms. Materials and subjects may always change. Therefore all new art is new, regardless of whether it is in an older style or a newer.

    There is one poetry critic, whose name I will not mention here, that suggests that all subjects have been dealt with in poetry. But that is a ridiculous notion as well. I may well have read, for example, all the love poetry throughout the centuries and found nothing that made sense or “resonated,” so to speak, with what I feel, and think. Then, perhaps, in the year 2020, I happen to read some poetry that our dear Latoya has written on the subject and I might say or think: “Yes! That’s it exactly! That’s the way it really is for me!” That is newness.

    And what if our Latoya has decided, for what ever reason, to master some older forms in 2015, and perhaps writes these poems in 2020 in the style of Greek Odes, simply because she likes the sound of them now that she has come to appreciate such a sound. So, am I then reacting to something old or something new? Obviously it is new, because all new poetry–new art–is new. In fact when I encounter a 500 year old poem in 2020 for the first time, it may strike me the same way. This poem is new to me.

    In any event, I loved this poem and am going to reblog it–am reblogging it even as I sit here writing this in the bitter watches of the night. This has the sound when I read it aloud of loose couplet rhymes, and the line breaks punctuate it nicely. Lovely. I hope you will keep writing.

    1. AWWWEEEE, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL REVIEW, REALLY, I SAY THIS FROM THE PITT OF MY HEART AND EVERY FIBBER OF MY SOUL, JUST SO BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE THE WAY YOU COMMENT ON BLOGS, YOU REALLY GO PRETTY DEEP MR. EMERON. SOMETIME I BROWSE AND THERE YOU ARE WITH A LENGTHY VERY ARTICULATE, MIND BENDING DIALOGUE (: I AGREE, POETRY AND ART CAN TAKE MANY FORMS BUT CHANGES VERY LITTLE . ONE THING FOR CERTAIN, TWO THINGS FOR SURE FROM WHERE I STAND, LOVE NEVER CHANGES, LOVE JUST TAKES DIFFERENT ROADS BUT NEVER CHANGES. I HAD THIS POEM REBLOGGED THREE TIMES, A RECORD FOR ME. I ASKED MYSELF, SELF, (: IS IT THE PIC OR THE POEM PEOPLE LIKE. I PULLED “WHAT WAS” OUT MY OLD NOTE PAD AND THERE IT WAS FROM 2002, AND LOVE TOOK ANOTHER ROAD SINSE THEN. I HAD ONE PERSON THAT REBLOGGED FILE THIS UNDER GRAMATICAL ERRORS AND NO PUNCTUATION, I FOUND THAT LAUGHABLE AND FLATTERING. POETRY IS A FUNNY DAILOGUE AND YOUR LUCKY IF YOU ARE ABLE TO TRANSLATE, ALMOST LIKE A PARABLE. NOT EVERYONE IS PRIVILEGED ENOUGH TO MASTER THE SKILL. I LOVE TO WRITE AND I HAVE VERY SELDOM BEEN NOT BEEN ABLE TO FILTER THROUGH OTHER POETIC CREATIVITY. I WRITE ABOUT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING, YOUR EXPIRIENCE AND MINES. I WRITE ABOUT WHAT I SEE ON THE PLANE, AT WORK, IN OTHERS, WHAT I SEE ON THE NEWS, A BROKEN HEART. IF I SEE IT, I WRITE. IT IS JUST GOOD TO BE APPRECIATED, THANK YOU.

      SORRY ABOUT THE CAPS, I’M A LAZY TYPER (:

      Reply

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